The corridors of the arena buzzed with voices and hurried footsteps. Servants carried trays of fruit, scrolls, and jars of wine to the viewing stands. At the center of it all, the name Lukas Fernandes spread from mouth to mouth like an unexpected thunderclap.

  — Did you see that? — an officer of the House of Spring whispered. — It looked like he already knew every move of House Gold.

  — That wasn’t luck… — another replied. — It was field reading. As if he’d played against her a thousand times before.

  Lukas walked with steady steps, though inside he felt the weight of all that attention.

  César’s voice rang in his mind, sober and sharp:

  — Enjoy the spotlight. But remember: too many eyes also mean too many blades pointed at you.

  Morgana laughed softly.

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  — Oh, please… let them stare. A little spectacle always helps. Besides… — her voice slid like silk — it’s fun when they try to knock you down, and you only become more irresistible.

  Lukas ignored her.

  ---

  In the viewing stands

  Darian kept his face composed, a polite smile offered to the nobles at his side. He even raised a cup in honor of his “younger brother,” as etiquette demanded.

  But inside, his rancor festered.

  Damn skinny runt.

  The image of the warboard still burned in his mind. Lukas — the boy who, only months ago, was nothing but dead weight — now made the Patriarchs themselves lean forward to watch.

  — Impressive, isn’t it? — said Alex, the firstborn, stepping closer. — The boy is surpassing himself.

  — Hm. — Darian kept his cold smile. — Even rats can escape a trap… if they’re lucky.

  Alex raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer. He knew that one wrong word could set the rivalry ablaze.

  ---

  The announcement

  The herald returned to the center of the arena, his voice echoing:

  — Third Trial! The Endurance Field of House Copas! Three stages, in groups of ten from each squadron, and it will be decided by brackets!

  The crowd erupted in cheers. House Copas was famed for brutal physical trials, demanding both endurance and combat strategy.

  — Ah, this one I like… — César’s tone was satisfied. — But your body isn’t ready yet. No surgical strikes, understood?

  — As if I’d ignore that, — Lukas muttered.

  Morgana sighed with a wicked chuckle:

  — If you collapse from exhaustion, at least make sure you fall into someone pretty’s arms…

  Lukas didn’t reply, but he felt the tension coil tighter. The Third Trial wouldn’t just test his mind anymore… it would test how much his body could endure before breaking.

  End of chapter 18