The sky above the Arch Kingdom stadium burned a brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight.
Fireworks cracked above the spires as thousands filled the stands, louder than ever before. Flags waved. Magic rippled through the air in a hundred colors.
It was the day.
The Third Round of the Royal Guard Draft had begun.
The sixteen remaining participants stood within the grand arena, sunlight gleaming off armor and weapons. Though the teams were no longer official… each group remained close, instinctively clinging to their familiar bonds:
Team Gold: Draven, Renza, Opal, Sento
Team Pearl: Clipso, Lily, Geno, Gena
Team Crimson: Helion, Zezzy, Liena, Yuri
Team Silver: Noah, Cynthia, Alec, Ril
Each of them stood tall, but behind their confidence, nerves stirred. Even the strongest among them knew—this was no longer a game of teamwork or clever tactics.
The arena mage's voice echoed across the walls through a massive burst of amplification magic:
"WELCOME… to the FINAL STAGE of the ROYAL GUARD DRAFT!"
The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers.
Zeyr, standing near the judge's platform, looked out over the battlefield with a quiet pride.
Syrus, Arion, Axel, and Arinelle stood across the stage as officiating captains—ready to oversee the matches.
And above them, at the highest peak of the stadium… the King himself sat watching with his beautiful queen and princess.
The crowd's roar slowly died down.
Then—
A sharp gust of wind passed through the arena as Captain Axel Nova stepped forward from the platform of captains.
Gone was the relaxed, joking air he usually wore like a second skin.
In its place stood a man tall and composed, silver-lined coat fluttering behind him, his voice now low and authoritative—laced with elegance and purpose.
⸻
"The Third Round of the Royal Draft…"
His voice echoed effortlessly through the stadium, powered by subtle magic.
"…is the final stage. The decision-maker. The line between dream and duty."
He paused, letting the weight of the moment settle in.
"From here on out—teams no longer matter."
Gasps and murmurs passed through the stands and among the remaining participants.
"You will now fight as individuals. One on one. Regardless of who you fought beside… or against… before."
He scanned the sixteen competitors now standing beneath him.
"Four teams remain. That gives us sixteen warriors."
"Which means—eight battles."
"And only eight of you… will ascend to the rank of Junior Royal Guard Knight."
A hush followed. Not from silence, but from focus.
The finality was real now.
Friendships, loyalties, strategies—none of it would protect them anymore.
It was just them, their strength, and their will.
⸻
Axel's voice rose again, this time with a piercing energy.
"Prepare your spirits. Sharpen your minds. These battles… will not be easy."
"You're not fighting for survival anymore…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"…You're fighting to be chosen."
Axel continued, "The matchups have been randomly chosen. They will be split into two groups. Four battles will occur at once in Group One, followed by four in Group Two."
He raised his hand.
One of the royal mages stepped forward, tracing a glowing arc in the air. In a flash of magic, the matchups materialized on the massive projection crystals above.
Gasps and shouts rang out across the arena.
The names began to echo from the crowds:
"Renza versus Gena!"
"Clipso versus Alec!"
"Lily against Ril!"
And then—
"Helion versus Draven?!"
The energy in the stadium surged like a tidal wave. Even the air seemed to tighten with tension.
The names for the second group followed shortly after:
"Zezzy versus Opal."
"Liena versus Noah."
"Yuri against Geno."
"Cynthia versus Sento."
There was no hiding the chatter now. Commentary swept the stands.
"Renza and Gena — fire versus water, a classic clash."
"Clipso and Alec? That's a clash of styles if I've ever seen one."
"Lily's precise, but Ril's raw talent is no joke."
And then… all eyes turned to one name.
"Helion versus Draven… That's the one to watch."
Up in the high booth above the arena, Zeyr Chrono rose from his seat, staring at the projection.
He muttered under his breath.
"Draven… Of all opponents…"
His voice tightened.
"The First son of the Head Valden family. Cold. Ruthless."
Beside him, the white wolf Loken growled low.
Zeyr narrowed his eyes. "Still… Helion's made it this far. He's earned this fight."
In the captain's podium nearby, Syrus stood frozen for a moment, then stepped forward, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
"Helion versus Draven…"
A whisper of a grin pulled at his lips.
"This will be interesting."
Down below, Draven glanced up at the screen — emotionless, unbothered. He gave no sign of concern as he turned away from the list. His arms folded, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Cold. Focused.
Helion looked up at the glowing names above him.
His heart beat faster — not from fear, but from fire.
He swallowed, then cracked a faint grin.
"Draven, huh?"
His hand brushed the hilt of his sword.
"This is going to be good."
In a private booth just across from Zeyr's, the velvet curtain was drawn slightly aside, revealing a man cloaked in cold confidence.
Vlad Valden — head of the prestigious and feared Valden family — sat reclined with one leg crossed, swirling a glass of crimson wine between two fingers.
His sharp gaze locked onto the projection hovering in the center of the grand stadium.
Helion vs. Draven.
He smiled, slow and venomous.
"Well now," Vlad muttered, his voice a serpent's hiss. "Draven versus that boy…"
He raised the glass to his lips, savoring the moment like the vintage.
"This will be fun. A clear reminder—no one rises above the Valden bloodline."
He drank slowly, eyes glinting with malicious pride.
⸻
On the main platform, Axel Nova stepped forward, posture regal and tone firm. The playful air he often carried was gone, replaced by solemn clarity.
"The third round… begins shortly."
"The battles will not be held here in the stadium," he declared. "Instead, each of you will be transported to one of the four specialized terrain fields—located across the outer edges of the capital."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"The arenas are currently being reconstructed by royal enchantments: Open field, A river bank, Mountain Cliff, and the Jungle Wild."
Each terrain stood distant from the public eye, hidden beyond the city borders—designed for full-scale combat without restraint.
Axel lifted a hand, and a soft hum of mana pulsed in the air.
"In a few moments, you will each be randomly assigned to a battlefield… and transported there via Hyper Beam."
"But before that—"
He gave them a nod.
"You may now return to your former teams. Say your goodbyes. Wish each other luck. Once you leave this floor… you fight alone."
Across the stadium floor, the sixteen remaining participants turned to face their teammates—those they had fought beside, bled with, and risen alongside.
Soon, they would stand as individuals—no more team strategy, no more safety net.
Only themselves. Their elemental spirit.
And the battlefield.
Team Crimson stood in a tight circle near the edge of the platform as the air around them hummed with growing magical energy.
Helion, fists clenched, stood at the center—his name the first drawn.
All eyes were on him.
"You're the first one up," Zezzy said, her arms crossed but her grin wide. "Don't let them forget our name."
Helion smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Liena stepped closer, her golden hair catching the morning light. Her usual sharp confidence softened for a moment.
"I'm just glad none of us are fighting each other," she said quietly, voice trembling at the edges. "Let's promise… all of us—every single one—we meet again. On the other side. As Royal Guard Knights."
She smiled, then quickly looked down, brushing away a tear.
Yuri adjusted his glasses, his expression unusually serious. He stepped forward and placed a steady hand on Helion's shoulder.
"You'll do great," he said. "Show them how it's done."
Helion took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across his friends—his team, his family.
He tightened his fist.
"I've got this," he said. "I'll win—just watch me."
The four of them stood there for one final moment, silent and strong, as the magical energy in the air began to spike.
Above them, the skies shimmered with converging beams of light.
The third round… was about to begin.
As the light began to gather above the platform—swirling and humming with arcane energy, preparing to transport the first group—Helion stepped forward.
But just before the beam descended, a hand caught his.
Liena.
She held onto him, firm but trembling slightly.
Their eyes met.
No words were spoken at first. Just a deep, silent connection shared in a glance.
Liena opened her mouth, as if to say something—anything.
But then… she stopped.
Instead, she gave a quiet nod. Strong. Sure. Trusting.
Helion nodded back, his grip tightening just for a second.
Then—light swallowed him whole.
And he was gone.
Light swirled around Helion's body, forming a radiant cocoon of energy before dispersing into a gentle breeze.
When the glow faded, Helion stood at the edge of a mountain ridge—high above the clouds, where the wind howled and the stone beneath his feet felt ancient and vast.
He took a deep breath.
Across the rocky expanse, another beam of light touched down.
Draven Valden appeared—arms crossed, eyes cold. The wind tugged at his cape, but his stance remained unmoving.
Helion took a step forward, eyes locked on his opponent.
"So we meet again," he said. "This time… we settle it."
Draven stood still. Arms still crossed.
"You think you can really fight me?" His voice was calm—almost bored. "I hope you brought everything you've got."
Helion's hand hovered near the hilt of his blade. The mountain wind whipped around him, tugging at his armor and tousling his hair, but his eyes never left Draven.
In one smooth, fluid motion—he drew.
SHHHING—
The Solstice Edge flashed free of its sheath, its silver-white blade catching the rising sun. Light pulsed across its surface in radiant ripples, reflecting off the mountain stone with an ethereal glow.
In another part of the kingdom—deep within the dense green of the Jungle Wild terrain—two beams of light struck the mossy ground.
Clipso appeared first, adjusting his gloves with a confident smirk. His amber eyes scanned the treetops before settling on the figure across from him.
Alec, clad in polished silver armor, stepped out of the light. A slim rapier hung at his side, and a throwing dagger rested on his shoulder strap. His expression was unreadable—cool and composed.
Clipso nodded.
"Team Silver, huh? I haven't fought any of you yet… Let's see if the rumors live up to the hype."
Alec simply tilted his head and drew his blade, wordless.
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On the grassy expanse of the Open Field terrain, two more lights dropped from the sky like falling stars.
Lily landed first, her cloak flaring behind her. She scanned her surroundings—flat land, nowhere to hide.
Perfect.
Across from her stood Ril—dressed in armor nearly identical to Alec's, glinting faintly in the light.
Ril gave her a sidelong glance, unimpressed.
"So… Team Pearl," he said dryly. "Took you long enough to beat Captain Axel. Let's see if you're actually worth my time."
Lily's fingers hovered over the sword at her hips. She smiled—but there was no warmth in it.
"You'll find out soon enough."
⸻
Farther still, by the cascading waters and slippery stones of the Riverbank terrain, the final beams descended.
Renza materialized, a flame already dancing at his fingertips, flickering in tune with his heartbeat. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck—his usual lazy smirk in place.
Then he laughed, his voice echoing softly across the water.
"Well, well…" he said, eyes locking with his opponent. "Looks like we get a nice little rematch."
Across from him, Gena stood poised in a low stance, water already swirling at her feet.
Her eyes were calm, focused. She didn't speak—but the tension between them said everything.
Fire and water.
Emotion and control.
The match was set.
⸻
Four battlefields.
Four sets of fighters.
And across the entire kingdom, the crowd watching from crystal projections held their breath.