[POV Kitsuna]
"Yo yo yooooo! Welcome, welcome to the final stage of the Under 16 Tournament! I hope you all have your snacks and drinks ready for the first round of the final stage. Today we have three matches for all you lovers of violence!" the announcer's voice boomed across the stadium with infectious enthusiasm.
The crowd roared, cheers and stomping feet echoing like thunder through the arena.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I know many of you came to see four matches today, but as of two hours ago, three competitors have withdrawn from the tournament! That means the ever-lovable blond Logan goes straight to the finals!"
Boos and scattered cheers followed, with a few diehard fans chanting Logan's name.
"But wait, I know what you're thinking: if only two remain, how are there three matches? That's because the semifinals will also happen today! That's right! And the finals? They've been moved to tomorrow! So if you've already bought tickets—congrats! You're in for the Grand Finals, folks!"
Up in the stands, Apricot leaned toward me, resting her elbow on her knee. "Seems like Mom's going to be tired tomorrow," she said, eyes sharp.
I raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. "Do you have a plan?"
She smirked. "You know how I operate, no?"
"Run in, ask questions after?"
"Hey!" She nudged me with her shoulder. "I'm joking."
Kayda joined us, folding her arms and glancing down at the arena. "Are you ready for today?"
"Of course. But why did they change the finals to tomorrow?"
Kayda gave a tight nod. "Why do you think so?"
I shrugged. "So we don't have time to prepare? Minimize casualties? To catch us off guard?"
"Exactly. The Angel cult is already in the capital."
I frowned. "So they'll only go after demons and demi-humans?"
"That's the plan. Which is why most of our operatives today are human. Let the cult focus their hatred where we want it."
"Smart and risky. But smart."
"As for your fight tomorrow—if you need help, Kayda and I are ready. Dean is stationed outside the city to intercept other forces."
"What about Amari?"
"Still recovering at home. Hospital-bound."
I sighed, nodding. "Alright. And the others?"
"Handling their assignments. Zagan's gone home."
"I'm not worried about Zagan. It's Amari I'm concerned about."
"She'll be fine. Focus on your match today. Use as little mana as possible. Don't expose your hand before Logan."
"I won't be distracted."
Apricot tilted her head toward Kayda. "Hey, Mom, aren't you up first?"
I looked down to the arena. An angel was already pacing angrily, glaring up at the stands.
"I've got ten minutes. Look at him—he's already fuming."
Kayda smirked. "I wouldn't push it. Go end your sentence quickly."
With a grin, I fast-stepped onto the arena floor—appearing just behind the angel.
"Oops, wrong side," I said innocently.
The angel jumped, wings twitching in surprise. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Getting ready to fight. What else?"
I casually walked to my starting point, pulling a longsword from storage.
"Let the match begin!" the announcer roared.
The angel launched forward immediately, shield raised and sword glowing. I sighed and swung my blade horizontally, sending a blade of ice that struck him midair, slamming him to the ground.
He groaned. "What? What the hell was that?!"
I strolled toward him, expression unreadable. "Poison didn't work, huh?"
He blinked in disbelief. "You're immune?!"
"Obviously. Mana-based poison? That's amateur stuff."
Reaching into my storage, I pulled out a pair of mangled angel wings.
The crowd gasped in horror and awe.
"Did you talk to your companion this morning? Oh wait—he's dead."
Angry shouts erupted from the angel faction's seats.
I ignored them and stepped up to the downed angel. With one clean swing, I beheaded him. Blood sprayed across the arena floor.
"That's your second-best angel? Absolute garbage!" I shouted toward the angel delegation.
"Kitsuna Draig, please leave the arena! The next match is about to begin!" the announcer called nervously.
I grinned at the crowd. "Let's make it a three-way! That was boring, right?! Let's make this fun!"
The audience roared in agreement.
But instead of leaving, I raised both arms high and paced the arena like a showman.
"Come on! That can't be it! Was that really your so-called holy might?!" I shouted, twirling my sword and pointing toward the angel faction's section. "Bring me a real fight!"
The crowd erupted again, some cheering, others jeering the Angels. A few even tossed snack wrappers into the air like confetti.
Children stood on their chairs waving flags, adults chanted my name, and the overall vibe shifted from excitement to bloodthirsty anticipation. This was no longer just a tournament—it was a spectacle.
"Draig! Draig! Draig!"
Even the announcer couldn't help but join in, laughing nervously into the mic. "W-Well, folks, the Fox Princess is certainly not shy about demanding action!"
Then, from the far tunnel, two more angels entered—the next act in this bloody drama—one a towering paladin, the other a slender female with silver wings and a gleaming bow.
"Sure, let's go, fox," the male said, planting his shield.
The female said nothing, her expression calm. But her aura was sharp—dangerous.
"Make your little chicken leave," I said, gesturing at the previously downed angel now being healed.
"Guard, fall back," the woman ordered. Her voice was cold and controlled.
The paladin bowed. "Yes, Milady."
We took our positions.
"Let the match commence!" the announcer shouted.
The paladin didn't move. Defensive stance. The woman behind the paladin closed her eyes to channel her energy.
'Oh, I see. She's prepped for something massive.
I flash-stepped behind her and went for a strike—
Clang!
The paladin blocked it just in time, his face set in grim focus.
"You're faster than I expected," I said with a grin.
He shoved me back with force, advancing in short, tight steps.
"Finally, a proper paladin," I muttered. I caught his shield with one hand and slammed my fist into his helmet.
Crack!
He stumbled but stayed upright.
With a snarl, he threw the shield at me and drew his longsword. I met him in kind—except my blade sliced clean through his.
"You!!"
The woman opened her eyes, raised her hands, and cast a massive sigil into the air. The arena's protective barrier shattered with a deafening boom.
"Ah. That's what she was charging," I said, intrigued.
Suddenly, four wings burst from both their backs.
"Noble angels… This just got fun."
I vanished—reappeared—and cut through all four of their wings in a blink. Blood and feathers rained down.
"Kyaaa!"
"Aaaagh!!"
They screamed in unison, collapsing.
"You should've stayed inside the barrier," I said calmly.
Before I could finish the girl, she summoned spears of radiant light. I blocked them with an ice dome, then countered with a wave of lightning.
The paladin charged again, flaming sword in hand. We clashed hard, my tail wrapping around his leg and slamming him backward.
The woman followed up with explosive arrows and a shadow spear. I intercepted the spear with my tail and dodged the blast.
"Let the light judge you!" she shouted, casting a sky-born holy beam.
I raised both arms and deflected the beam with a swirling vortex of wind and frost.
The paladin tried to rise again, panting and bloodied.
I summoned dozens of floating ice shards.
"Let's end this."
The shards launched. Half hit the shield. The rest pierced his armor. He collapsed.
She fired a final shot, but I twisted midair and sliced the arrow in two.
Then the king's voice boomed across the arena.
"That's enough. You have won the fight, Draig."
I bowed respectfully. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He stood in the VIP box, arms behind his back.
"Leave the wings."
"Tch… fine," I said, tossing the mangled wings to the ground.
The girl hissed from the floor, glaring. "You'll pay for this one day."
I chuckled. "Sure. But karma owes me a favor. It's going to take a while to catch up."
Her eyes widened with a mix of fear and hatred as I walked away.
Backstage was quieter than usual.
The roars of the crowd still rumbled faintly through the stone walls, but in here, the air felt heavy. Heavier than blood. Heavier than sweat.
I shook the last bits of ice from my fingertips, flicking them onto the floor as I strode past the nearest medics and stunned guards. Most of them gave me a wide berth—some out of respect, others out of fear.
Waiting by the corner was Stacy.
She didn't look frustrated. Not exactly. Just tired. Thoughtful. The kind of look someone gives when they know a storm's coming and no one else sees the clouds.
"Quite the show," she said, arms folded, her black coat catching the faint light from the sconces.
"You think so? I thought it was a bit tame," I replied with a grin, though my shoulders ached.
"You cut off their wings, Kitsuna."
"Yeah, well… They grew back last time."
She looked at me over for a long moment before sighing. "Tomorrow's the final."
"Yup."
"Logan."
I nodded.
She didn't say it, but I knew what she meant.
'Be careful. He's not normal. You might die. Or worse.'
We walked together in silence through the stone hallway, flanked by guards. The corridors gradually widened, the hum of enchantments growing stronger with every step.
"The king requested you come to his VIP chamber," Stacy said after a beat. "He wants to speak with you before the final match."
I raised an eyebrow. "Now?"
"Now."
"Let me guess—he's going to tell me not to kill Logan?"
Stacy gave a small, knowing chuckle. "Maybe. Or maybe he's hoping you will."
We arrived at the ornate double doors of the VIP suite, flanked by royal guards in red-trimmed armor. They nodded and opened the doors without a word.
Inside, golden light poured across the marble floor from arched windows. Velvet seating, silken curtains, and a map of the city laid out on a floating board showed just how serious the atmosphere had become.
The king stood facing the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"Kitsuna Draig," he said without turning.
"Your Majesty," I replied, stepping in.
Stacy followed, silent as a shadow.
The final talk was about to begin.