The bell roared like thunder.
The entire arena rose to its feet as Valquíria Fernandes descended the steps, her black war hammer resting on her shoulder. The ground trembled beneath every step of the Queen of Clovers.
On the opposite side, Lukas stumbled into the ring. His whole body throbbed from the previous fight—dried blood, burning muscles. The new curved shield, given by Aníbal, gleamed without runes—raw, heavy, but steady.
“He’s going to be crushed!” shouted a noble.
“Don’t underestimate the skinny one,” another replied.
“HAHAHA!” yelled Luiz from above. “This is gonna be beautiful!”
In the patriarchs’ balcony, Kyros muttered between laughter and fear:
“Mercy...”
?? The First Impact
Valquíria raised her hammer with one hand.
“Stand your ground, little brother—if you can.”
The blow came down like a mountain. Lukas lifted his shield.
The impact thundered, sending him flying back several meters. His arm shook, bones screamed, iron groaned.
The crowd held its breath.
The second strike came from the side—he barely managed to twist the shield.
The shoulder joint cracked.
The third came down again—stone shattered beneath the hammer. Lukas rolled, coughing blood, covered in dust. Still, he rose.
From above, Sarya whispered,
“He’s still standing...”
Valen bit his lip, fists clenched.
“Standing... for her,” he muttered through his teeth.
?? The Brutality
Valquíria spun the hammer.
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Each strike was a sentence.
Each of Lukas’s defenses defied the laws of physics.
The stands quaked. Besouro roared, gripping the railing:
“HOLD ON, CHOCOLATINHO!”
Akemi trembled, hands clasped in prayer.
Leli cried silently, nails digging into the bench.
Nanda and Tariq shouted his name together like a chant.
Chique-Chique and Neiva pounded the ground in rhythm, the crowd following the chorus:
“CHOCOLATINHO! CHOCOLATINHO!”
At the fourth impact, the curved shield was covered in cracks. Lukas dropped to his knees.
Valquíria raised the hammer once more.
“Fall, Lukas.”
He spat blood and smiled.
“Not yet.”
? The Break
The fifth blow came like lightning.
And in that instant, darkness condensed around the shield.
César roared in his mind:
“Raise your shield! Now, legionary!”
Morgana laughed, like the underworld applauding:
“Yes! Show me how much you can take before breaking!”
Lukas planted his feet, his left arm trembling.
Light and shadow intertwined along the shield’s edge, like twin flames.
“SACRED BLACK IMPACT!” he shouted.
The shield shattered into fragments.
The channeled energy surged through his body and exploded in a brutal flash.
Valquíria’s hammer split down the middle, the runes fracturing.
A thunderclap of black light swept across the arena.
?? The Silence
When the dust settled, the world seemed mute.
Valquíria was kneeling, holding the broken handle.
Lukas still stood.
Breathing slow. Eyes empty.
César whispered, deeply moved:
“Honor to the soldier who stands even without strength.”
Morgana murmured, sweetly:
“And to the sweet boy who shines until he bleeds.”
He closed his eyes.
And collapsed, like a flag after the war.
?? The Reactions
“LUKAS!” Leli screamed, leaping from the stands.
Besouro threw his arms in the air, laughing and crying all at once.
“HE DID IT! CHOCOLATINHO DID IT!”
Akemi covered her mouth in awe.
Nanda exclaimed, “Worthy of your son, Kyros. Truly impressive.”
Tariq burst out laughing: “Just like I expected! He’s Kyros’s clone, obviously he had a trick like that!”
Sarya stood frozen—her amber eyes filled with something new.
Respect. Concern. And something she dared not name.
Valen, beside her, trembled with rage.
“Always him… always that damned Francino!”
Above, Dariam clenched his teeth.
“Luck. Just luck…” he muttered, his red gaze fixed on Lukas’s blood.
Luiz, on the other hand, laughed—his crimson aura flaring in the stands.
“Damn skinny brat… he did it again.”
He grinned and shouted:
“You surprised everyone! Guess we can’t call you a failure anymore.”
“The seat that was yours by right just got filled at the table, little brother. Congratulations—the Copas officially recognize your strength!”
---
?? The Patriarchs
Kyros crossed his arms, smiling.
“That little pest… he really broke her hammer! Hahaha!”
“Kid… how the hell did you turn into this monster? We’re gonna have a long talk after this, mark my words.”
Helena, blushing, clutched her fan to her chest.
“He’s exactly like you, Kyros. Every stubborn inch of him.”
Kotan burst out laughing.
“Pure fire, just like his father!”
Aurelius sighed with respect.
“Autumn recognizes courage when it sees it. And it seems Autumn is starting to take an interest…”
He murmured with a sly grin,
“Sarya…”
Flora wiped a tear.
“That Lukinhas… he’s got the soul of a broken sun.”
Kyros looked down at the arena, pride swelling in his chest.
“He’s the future of the Tenth.”
---
?? The Dream of the Commoners
The stands trembled.
The people rose, voices united:
“CHOCOLATINHO! CHOCOLATINHO! CHOCOLATINHO!”
Every shout was a promise.
Every tear, a vow.
Amid screams and dust, a symbol was born—
The failure who dared defy his own bloodline.
The boy who fell and rose again, bleeding, but smiling.
Down below, as healers rushed to him, Lukas’s body lay still.
Broken. Beaten.
But victorious.
The Tenth House was alive.
And the name of the skinny boy echoed as legend—
CHOCOLATINHO.
End of Chapter 18
