The crowd's roar hit Liam. It felt like a wall. He stood in the dueling circle. He breathed slowly. His mana was low. It throbbed. Elara Voss picked up her bow. She looked frustrated. But she also looked respectful.
"That burst… I've never seen it," Elara said. Her voice was quiet. The crowd's noise faded. "You hid more, didn't you, Lithian?"
Liam tilted his head. He didn't answer directly. "One must adapt, Lady Voss."
She nodded. Her sharp eyes looked him over. "Be careful. Some here fight dirtier." She turned. She walked away. Her pride was hurt. But she wasn't broken.
Sir Lucas was at the circle's edge. He got there fast. His face showed a fierce grin. But his eyes were still careful. "Save your strength, boy," he said. He gripped Liam's shoulder. "That was great. But costly. Your mana… it's low. You might not have much time."
Liam nodded. He felt the drain. Mana at 20 out of 280. Dragonheart Refinement worked. But full recovery would take hours. Not minutes. An attendant from Oulbeck appeared. He guided Liam. To a shaded alcove. He offered water and a wet cloth. Liam sank onto a stone bench. He closed his eyes. He focused on breathing. He tried to regenerate mana. Slowly.
Grandmaster Orin Oulbeck watched from the high dais. His face showed nothing. But his gaze fixed on Liam. It was strong. Higher up, Sword Sovereign Eldrin was a dark shape. His attention felt heavy.
The tournament kept going. The herald's voice boomed. He announced the next quarter-final. Liam watched. He had to. He used Dragon's Gaze. He looked for facts.
Kael Thorne fought Ser Alaric. Kael used an axe. He was brutal. Alaric was a noble. He used precise sword moves. Kael got cut. Many times. But he kept fighting. Liam's Dragon's Gaze showed Kael's Vitality and Endurance were very high. For his rank. Kael's feelings were raw. Resentment burned. He had strong will. Kael's axe broke Alaric's defense. Alaric's sword flew away. He yielded. Kael panted. He was bleeding. But he won.
Then came "Glen Forhimer." Prince Arthur moved slowly. Almost lazily. His opponent was an arrogant young lord. He underestimated Arthur. Arthur let the lord attack. Let him use energy. Arthur's moves looked simple. Passive. Then, Arthur struck. Fast. A single, precise blow. To the wrist. A clean disarm. The fight was over. Less than a minute.
Liam's Dragon's Gaze saw through Arthur's act. The Prince's mana was barely used. His true Strength and Agility were higher. Much higher. His feelings were cool. Calculating. He was amused. His gaze went to Liam. After his win. He was interested. Arthur's S-Rank Potential glowed. It was a silent warning.
The other two quarter-finals passed quickly. Ser Bastien, a strong knight, won. He had good defense. Another fight was an upset. A quick rogue beat a favorite. Liam felt his mana return. Slowly. Maybe a hundred points. Enough for another fight. Not his best.
The winners waited. Kael Thorne wiped grime and blood from his face. He nodded to Liam. "Not bad, noble," Kael grunted. "For a noble."
Arthur Razakia spoke. He approached Liam. His face was mild. Almost friendly. "A surprising display, Lord Lithian," Arthur said. His eyes were calculating. "You fight with… notable ferocity."
Liam met the Prince's gaze. His Dragon's Gaze was active. He saw the lies. "One does what is necessary to survive, Master Forhimer."
Arthur smiled slightly. "Indeed. Survival is paramount. Though some," he looked at the other fighters, "seem to invite more… attention." The jab was clear. Liam showed too much power.
Sir Lucas found Liam. His brow was furrowed. Lucas's hand rested on Liam's shoulder, his grip tightening. "Liam," he began, his voice dropping, "the opponent you might face, 'Glen Forhimer'… he's more than he seems. If you find yourself matched against him, I need you to consider forfeiting. This isn't just about winning a tournament; it's about survival. Some battles, even House Lithia can't win. Facing him now could be one of them."
Liam tightened his jaw. The tournament was a viper's nest. He had a target painted on his back.
The sun climbed higher. The heat increased. The herald stepped forward. He held a scroll. The four semi-finalists were called. Liam Lithian, Ser Bastien, Kael Thorne, and "Glen Forhimer".
Grandmaster Orin Oulbeck came down from the dais. His presence commanded silence. He held a small, ornate wooden box containing four marked tokens. "From this, your pairings. Fate will guide your path."
Orin gestured. "Each of you will draw a token. Your opponent will be revealed when both pairings are complete."
Kael Thorne grunted, stepping forward. He drew a token. Ser Bastien followed, his movements stoic. Then Arthur Razakia. Finally, Liam. Each held their token.
A pregnant pause hung in the air. Liam felt the almost physical pressure of Sword Sovereign Eldrin's gaze from the high balcony.
Orin then looked at the two pairs. "The first semi-final: Kael Thorne versus 'Glen Forhimer'!"
A wave of murmurs. Then an excited roar. This was a clash. Kael grunted. His expression was unreadable. Arthur Razakia's calm face didn't change. But Liam's Dragon's Gaze saw it. A flicker of heightened calculation. Muscles tensed. Mana flowed faster. Arthur knew. This was a critical fight.
"The second semi-final," Orin boomed, cutting through the anticipation, "Lord Liam Lithian of House Lithia… versus… Ser Bastien!"
Another roar from the crowd. Liam looked at Bastien. The stoic knight merely nodded. A silent acknowledgment.
The horn sounded. The fight began. Bastien was a fortress. His shield felt like part of him. His heavy longsword was slow. But it was unstoppable. Liam activated Dragonheart Vigor. He funneled mana into Strength. To counter Bastien. And into Agility. For quick strikes. He moved fast. His Crimson Fang was a red blur. He aimed for small gaps. Each clang of steel jolted his bones. Bastien's Endurance was strong.
Liam used every trick. Feints. Misdirections. Fluid footwork. Even the moves Orin taught him. He tried to break away. To circle. To find an opening. But Bastien never stopped. He wasn't just defending. He slowly pushed Liam. Towards the edge.
He's waiting for me to get tired, Liam realized. His mana was low. His defense is too perfect.
He remembered Lucas's warning. Forfeiting. The idea sparked a fire. Not here. Not now.
Liam pulled back. He drew Bastien in. Then he struck. A flurry of blows. Feigning a direct attack. Bastien braced. Liam pivoted. He channeled Dragonheart Vigor into his Adamantine Claws. A spectral shimmer of dark claws. It briefly covered his left hand. With a cry, he slammed his clawed hand against Bastien's shield. He didn't try to break it. Just move it. Enough. A momentary opening.
Before Bastien could recover, Liam was there. Crimson Fang plunged. Not to kill. But precisely. To the edge of Bastien's shoulder armor. It caught the joint. Bastien grunted. He staggered. Disarmed.
Bastien's eyes widened. Surprise. Respect. He lowered his guard. He conceded.
"Ser Bastien is disarmed! The winner of the second semi-final... Lord Liam Lithian!" the herald boomed. The crowd roared.
Liam stood. He was panting. His mana was very low again. He had won. But it was a hard fight. He looked towards the competitors' area. Kael Thorne and "Glen Forhimer," Prince Arthur, were in the finals.
The crowd was electric. Tension filled the air. Liam and Arthur stood at opposite ends of the dueling circle. The Prince's calm, serene expression didn't change. But Liam's Dragon's Gaze saw it. A flicker of heightened calculation. Muscles tensed. Mana flowed faster. Arthur knew. He knew Liam was more than just another noble.
"The final duel! For the Championship of the Oulbeck Tournament of Spears!" the herald declared. "Lord Liam Lithian of House Lithia, versus Master Glen Forhimer!"
A roar went up. Liam gripped Crimson Fang. Its ruby fuller pulsed dimly. His mana was still dangerously low. But his Draconic Refinement had improved his stats. The win had boosted his resolve. He had to win. For the prize. For his future. He had to rewrite it.
Arthur moved with silent confidence. He drew a simple longsword. His movements were precise. Economical. Unnervingly fast. This was no commoner. This was a prince. A master of disguise. Ready to show his true self.
The herald raised his hand. "Begin!"
The fight started. No clash of steel. Just feints. Measured movements. Arthur pressed. He moved fast. His sword was a silver blur. Liam relied on Draconic Senses. And his past life's skill. He parried. He dodged. He sought openings. Arthur saved mana. He used pure skill.
Liam unleashed Dragonheart Vigor. He poured his last mana. Into Agility and Strength. Crimson Fang sang. Its Blooddrinker effect was eager. He moved like a whirlwind. He forced Arthur to react. Pushed him back.
Arthur's calm broke. He twisted. He ducked. He countered. With unnerving precision. He activated his skills. Liam's Dragon's Gaze showed [Shadow Step (B - Latent)]. Arthur vanished. Reappeared. In a blink. It was disorienting. Liam compensated. He used his enhanced senses. He tracked mana distortions.
The duel became a battle of wills. Each fighter pushed the other. To their limits. Arthur had hidden power. But Liam met him. With desperate ferocity. A strength born from a rewritten past.