The roar of the arena still echoed faintly beyond the thick stone walls, but inside the contestant lounge, silence reigned.
Lucia Whitecrest stood alone, arms folded, face shadowed by strands of her silver-blonde hair. Her staff leaned against the wall beside her, scorched at the tip. Her fingers trembled—not from exhaustion, but rage.
She activated her comm-crystal with a sharp flick, the white gem glowing in her palm. It pulsed once... then again...
A voice answered. Cold. Commanding.
"Father," she said, voice steady despite the fire in her chest. "I lost."
There was a long pause on the other end.
"A boy named Zane. An outsider. He—he canceled Final Judgement. As if it were nothing. Not resisted. Not countered. Nullified."
The silence that followed wasn't disappointment. It was dangerous.
"Describe the technique he used."
She did—her voice clipped, sharp, detailing the ripple of darkness, the way it devoured light, how it silenced her spell as though it had never existed.
When she finished, her father spoke again—quiet, lethal.
"This boy... he is a threat to the balance. The House will not ignore this."
Lucia's eyes gleamed. "Then...?"
"You've done well. Return with honor. I will handle the rest. From this moment forward... Zane is an enemy of House Whitecrest."
Lucia exhaled, slowly.
Then she turned her gaze toward the arena, where another match was raging.
Let them cheer for him. Let them praise his power.
Soon, they'll learn what it means to cross the House of Light.