CHAPTER 118: AREON’S MOTHER

Of course, he recognized her.

Selphira Kane. One of the female lead of this novel he was in.

An intelligent, self-contained, scholar-minded girl with a sharp tongue and sharper intellect. The type of person who just doesn’t care about anything or anyone in plot.

She was said to have one of the most creative minds in the empire. He believed it.

And so, while the tension thickened, and Selphira’s words rang across the sands, Razeal turned and slowly scanned the coliseum.

All around him faces.

Some beamed with anticipation, excited for the spectacle.

Some sneered, clearly waiting for him to fall.

Others tried to hold back the urge to shout, restrained only by the presence of the silver-haired magistrate beside him.

And in the middle of it all... he stood alone.

But unshaken.

Still, Razeal couldn’t help but be impressed by Selphira as hiw she had silenced an entire coliseum with just few carefully words.

He cast another sideways glance at her.

"What do you think, System?" he asked inwardly. "Will I be able to beat this woman?"

[Can’t say for sure, host. Her ability isn’t really that special... but it’s just herself that makes it into something overly powerful. Especially her rune language and combining it with her affinity. She can just reach a different level. I can’t really judge based on her skills and affinity, but as for how strong she is, all I can say is that if you gave her abilities to someone else, they would never reach her level maybe not even you... Of course, if you didn’t have the system’s help, that is.] The system gave an honest answer.

"I see... I see," Razeal murmured to himself, still watching her, genuinely curious.

Selphira, feeling his gaze linger far too long, turned her head. Her sharp grey eyes met his.

Is he... checking me out? she thought briefly, puzzled.

But she didn’t flinch or speak instead

She just met his stare, passive and unreadable. Testing his intentions.

Razeal, for his part, didn’t look away either. His stare was steady, expression blank, neither curious nor polite just uncaring.

They stood like that for a moment two minds behind unreadable masks, neither breaking the silence.

Selphira narrowed her eyes slightly.

He’s... weird, she thought to herself.

She turned her attention away as something shifted in the air. Two presences were approaching.

She turned, as did the entire coliseum.

And then as she did she froze.

Not just her. The entire coliseum stilled.

Breath caught in thousands of throats at once. A weight fell over the crowd like a wave of heat.

From the upper chamber, two women walked toward the center of the arena with measured steps.

"Your Grace, Lady Arabella..." Selphira spoke, bowing with practiced grace and respect as

A woman approached, radiant and powerful, with a wide smile playing on her lips. Her crimson hair flowed like fire in the wind as she moved, her long combat robe fluttering around her legs. At her back robe shimmered the Crest of the Crimson Dragon, wrapped around a sword proud and unmistakable. The unmistakable emblem of House Dragonwevr.

She wore a sleek black combat pant suit, formal yet clearly built for battle. Her presence was magnetic. Dangerous. Regal.

Lady Arabella one of the Four Duchesses of the Empire of Aetherion, matriarch of the House of Flames, and reputed to be the most hot-headed noble the empire had ever known. Beautiful. Dangerous. Entirely unpredictable.

At her side walked a younger woman a mirror, yet an opposite.

A girl cold as winter steel. She had icy white hair, cascading like frost down her back. Her expression was perfectly composed, unreadable. She wore a tailored white and crystal-blue combat suit, nearly identical to her mother’s in design but colder in tone. Her hand rested calmly on the hilt of the sword at her waist.

This was Nancy Dragonwevr, Arabella’s younger daughter.

The ducchess smiled broadly as she reached Selphira.

"Hahaha greetings accepted," Arabella said with a laugh as she reached out and playfully ruffled Selphira’s silver hair, completely ignoring protocol. The young magistrate stood still, silent, allowing it without complaint her face impassive.

She offered no resistance.

Arabella didn’t spare the boy a glance. She strode forward with absolute disregard for everything else around her, her crimson hair trailing like a living flame, her presence alone warping the air. She didn’t look at Razeal. atleast not yet.

Nancy stopped just beside her mother, her icy gaze fixed straight at Razeal. She said nothing just observed. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read something off his face...

Razeal, however?

His confidence faltered. For a moment, his heart practically leapt into his throat as he saw the Duchess in a combat suit.

"That’s... not what I think it is, right? Right, System?" he muttered inside.

The system responded, a rare unease beneath its tone too.

[I don’t know, host. I’m just as surprised no consurned by her appearance as you are. However, I doubt she’s replacing your opponent in this duel. More likely, it’s Nancy Dragonwevr who’s stepping in. Look at her. She’s observing you closely. Most likely, the Duchess is only here to formally announce Areon’s withdrawal maybe.]

"Let’s hope so..." Razeal muttered, swallowing thickly.

"Because if she suddenly declares blood feud on her son’s behalf, we’re really screwed."

[Agreed. If she acts on personal insult, we are what’s the word? Ah yes utterly, royally, and fatally fucked.]

Razeal barely had time to collect himself before a voice boomed across the arena bold, wild, and completely unfiltered.

"You’ve grown up a fair bit, nephew! Taller than I remember!"

Her laughter echoed through the coliseum like rolling thunder, raw and uncontained. The arena stirred.

Razeal blinked. She stood directly in front of him now taller than him, fearless, and absolutely dangerous.

[Be respectful, host. I’m warning you. She’s not to be played.]

[If you piss her off, you might not just die you’ll vanish. Atomically. Spiritually. Existentially.] system was feeling worried

So system’s warning screeched in his mind like a blaring alarm.

But Razeal didn’t listen. As he never did.

With a slow smirk, hands still buried deep in his pockets, he replied casually:

"Hey, Auntie. Long time no see." If she was going to play games he will too.

The system exploded internally.

[YOU FUCKING MORON]

Gasp~

Both Selphira and Nancy jerked slightly eyes wide. Even Selphira, the unshakable scholar-magistrate, audibly gasped at the audacity.

Nancy’s lips parted. Her expression, normally so cold it could kill frost, cracked into visible shock.

But Arabella?

She paused... then tilted her head with a grin that was half-predator, half-playful madness.

"Ohhhh? Big balls you’ve grown, kid. Want me to polish them for you?"

Her voice was almost amused.

Razeal didn’t flinch.

"With your mouth? Why not."

They all froze.

[-_- You Mother Fucker Psycopath]

[Host... what the actual FUCK is wrong with you.]

A collective gasp rippled from selphira and nancy.

Selphira’s hand flew to her mouth open in complete, stunned silence.

Even Nancy turned toward him sharply, her icy composure shattered. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide with pure, unfiltered what-the-fuck

energy.

Arabella... just smiled wider.

Nancy took three instinctive steps backward, silently distancing herself from her mother. It wasn’t fear. It was survival instinct.

She could already feel it an explosion was brewing.

"He’s dead," she thought grimly, eyes fixed on Razeal like she was watching a man walk into a volcano.

Arabella, meanwhile, smiled sweetly, a perfectly measured noblewoman’s smile.

"Its just that your mother be very disappointed, my dear nephew. If wasn’t for that, I might’ve taken the liberty to teach you some manners myself." She smiled as if talking in code language

Razeal’s smirk didn’t flinch.

Wow, he thought, old people really are built different. She took all that cursing and she’s still standing here smiling like we’re sipping tea.

Still, just to be sure, he activated his Killing Perception nothing. Not even a flicker of bloodlust from her. No intent. No malice radiating.

Just an eerie, vast stillness.

"How’s my good friend doing, aunty?" he said, the sarcasm practically audible.

His smile widened, the sarcasm practically dripping off his words.

Selphira, standing to the side, stared between the two with growing tension. The expressions were civil. Their tones friendly. But she knew better. As someone seasoned in politics, she could see the cracks behind the masks see the tension winding tighter by the second.

This wasn’t a conversation. It was a battlefield of cursing each other mother’s.

Nancy, on the other hand, looked stunned. Eyes wide. Breath shallow. Her brain seemed to short-circuit watching this surreal exchange.

Arabella kept her tone pleasant child-friendly as ever.

"Oh, nephew, I truly underestimatedyour abilities given your childhood achievements. But Now that I think about it, you’re just like those foxes your inbred house keeps breeding."

"Always playing these kinds of filthy tricks. Truly... disgusting."

"Aunty, I’m hurt. I really don’t know what you’re talking about," Razeal replied, smiling even more broadly than her now. His tone, pure innocence. His face, utter mockery.

"Oh, you know exactly what I’m referring to.. You little cunt," Arabella replied with her ever friendly smile. "What you did to Areon... it was masterful. Repulsive, but masterful. You remind me so much of your sister conniving, cold, clever.. But let me assure you, My dear little piece of shit..."

Her eyes Still smiling sweatly.

"...you will pay a veryvery heavy price for today’s little performance."

Razeal blinked, all false innocence.

"Oh no... did something happen to my dearest brother, Areon? Is he ill?"

His voice laced with mock concern.

"I’d send flowers... but where to find."

For a brief second just a flicker Arabella’s expression froze.

Razeal’s smirk faltered too.

Because he saw it a thin red mist

, like bloodied smoke, momentarily coil around her form... then disappear, swallowed by her body as if it had never been there.

"Holy shit. I’m dead. I’m so dead. She’s gonna obliterate me."

Still, his heart raced with something else too exhilaration.

"Damn... this is kind of thrilling. Maybe I am really going crazy."

Arabella’s fingers twitched. But she reined herself in.

She had made a promisevto the Virelan family. And she would keep it.

Control yourself. Control. Yourself.

She turned her face away from Razeal’s smirking one. If she stared any longer, she might actually kill him and she wasn’t ready to clean up the fallout.

Instead, she turned to Selphira.

She faced Selphira, her voice calm though her hand trembled slightly.

"Girl~, Areon is severely injured. He cannot participate in this duel so yeah."

Selphira’s mouth dropped open.

"Whaaa?"

But she caught herself, quickly adjusting her posture.

"Your Grace means... he’s forfeiting?"

She hesitated, clearly trying to tread carefully.

But Arabella cut in before she could say more.

"Yes. It will be automatically declared a victory for this shit," Arabella said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion.

But only she knew the storm she was holding back. Inside, it was like lava crawling beneath ice anger barely restrained, fury grinding against the walls of her pride. it was a disgrace to her family name. A blow to the prestige of House Dragonwevr. And the fact that she couldn’t even retaliate?

It was suffocating.

Selphira opened her mouth hesitantly, but Arabella cut her off sharply.

"Just announce it already." Her fist clenched at her side, knuckles white. Her eyes, however, shimmered with a thinly veiled madness. That boy that thing had poisoned her son.

The moment Areon recovers, he’s getting more than just a beating.

Selphira took a breath, steadying herself. Even under pressure, even stunned she remained composed. That was her training.

She turned to face the crowd and raised her voice. A golden rune flickered to life at her throat, amplifying her tone across the entire coliseum.

"By decree of the dueling accord, let it be known: Areon Dragonwevr, owing to a state of illness and physical infirmity, has formally withdrawn from the contest. In accordance with the rules governing honorable combat, the duel is thus concluded by default.

Victory is thereby granted to the opposing duelist, Razeal. As stipulated in the terms of the wager, the sacred promise shall be duly bestowed upon him as the rightful prize."

For one full second, the arena stood in absolute silence. Like the breath before a scream.

And then

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!"

The entire crowd exploded.

Chaos. Shock. Roars of disbelief and outrage rang out in waves.

"He won without even fighting?!"

"What kind of rigged match is this?!"

"Where’s Areon?! Why didn’t he come?!"

"Razeal didn’t even lift a damn finger!"

Of course, the crowd hadn’t heard any of the conversation taking place at the center of the arena. From their seats, all they could see was Razeal exchanging quiet words with the Duchess, followed by the Duchess speaking directly with the official referee. They had no idea what had transpired since can’t hear anything from that distance. And now this? A forfeit? A victory by default?

Madness. The world had gone mad.

Meanwhile, Razeal stood in the center of the storm, hands still in his pockets, eyes half-lidded.

A slow smirk crept up his lips.

Victory.

But before the expression could fully settle on his lips, a sharp voice rang out across the arena.

"Don’t get cocky," Arabella snapped coldly, her eyes narrowed. "You may have won the bet... but we can still invoke substitution. So tell me, boy.. do you have the guts?"

She hadn’t even finished when

"NOOOOO! I DID NOT FORFEIT!!"

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