Chapter Thirty-Five – Mana
As Prince Ethan walked out of the arena with his usual calm stride, the tournament staff rushed in to lift Reyan's unconscious body and carry him toward the healers. The crowd was still roaring his name, the echoes of his flames lingering in the air.
Up in the balcony, Atta leaned against the railing, watching in silence. He noticed Princess Isha beside him, her usually steady gaze troubled.
He raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, Princess? You look stressed."
Isha glanced at him, forcing a small smile. "It's nothing. I'm just… worried about you. After this round, only the strongest mages are left."
Atta chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving the arena below as earth mages repaired the shattered floor. "So what, Princess? This isn't a death match. I'm not going to die—" he smirked, "—and more importantly, I'm not going to lose."
Isha exhaled, shaking her head. "You have one sword, Atta. Just one. And barely any mana to speak of. Do you even realize I have eight times more mana than your first opponent, Luc? And he almost had you beaten."
Atta smiled, hopping up to sit casually on the railing, legs swinging. Without looking at her, he said, "You're right, Princess. I don't have mana…"
He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming. "But I do have someone inside me who does."
Isha froze. "What?"
Atta's grin widened. "Someone whose mana could rival all the Guardians combined."
Her expression twisted into shock. "Are you saying you'll use Azeon's mana?"
Atta turned to meet her eyes, calm and unreadable. "If I have to."
Before Isha could respond, the speaker's voice thundered across the stadium:
> "Now, for the next match!
The winner of the first round—Atta of the Human Kingdom—
versus Lio Dasmon of the Noble House of Dasmon, Angel Kingdom!"
Atta chuckled lightly. "Looks like it's my turn."
Isha sighed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you keep your promise—not to lose."
Atta winked. "Don't worry, Princess. I never break my word."
He jumped down from the balcony in one smooth motion, landing gracefully in the center of the arena.
From the opposite entrance, his opponent emerged—a tall, striking young man, a few years older than Atta. His golden hair glowed under the light, his deep blue eyes calm but confident. Dressed in white combat robes embroidered with silver markings, Lio Dasmon looked every bit the noble warrior.
Atta sized him up with a smirk. "I don't know who you are, and I can't sense your mana level… but I can tell you're strong. I hope you give me a good fight."
Lio smiled politely, his tone composed but sharp. "Don't worry, human. I won't disappoint you."
The announcer's voice boomed once more, shaking the arena:
> "The match between Atta and Lio Dasmon—begins now!"
Atta's hand moved toward the hilt of Derona on his back—
—but before he could even draw it, Lio vanished.
A sudden flash—
And Atta's head snapped sideways as a kick smashed into his face, sending him flying through the air.
The crowd gasped as Atta spun backward midair, blood trailing from his lip.
He gritted his teeth. "Fast… too fast."
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To be continued…