CHAPTER 86: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

Micha’el stood tall atop the sparring platform before Auren.

His golden hair was tied back in a tight warrior’s braid that swayed with every slight breeze.

His eyes- bright and sharp like cut citrine- sparkled with a playful glint, as if he were holding back a laugh just for sport. The gentle glow from the mana lanterns overhead bathed his fair skin in a soft radiance, giving him the appearance of a living sculpture- graceful, too perfect, and way too smug for Auren’s liking.

Strapped across his back was a massive greatsword, its edge still faintly thrumming with leftover mana. The sparring platform beneath him was scorched and cracked with runic backlash- clear evidence that his last opponent hadn’t fared well.

"And here I thought today was going to be another boring practice session," he said, voice dripping with anticipation, eyes locked on Auren like a cat spotting a new toy.

Around the courtyard, whispers erupted like wildfire- low, hot, and hungry.

"That’s him? He just looks like some scrawny human!"

"So he’s the frameless freak? I heard his own parents ditched him after siding with the Dark Fate. Shameless and frameless- what a combo!"

"Did he really fight Vulkris alone inside the Ember Tree? Or is that just overblown propaganda?"

"Pfft. Look at his posture- skinny limbs and flimsy stance. He wouldn’t survive a single blow from someone like me."

"Hey, Micha’el! Don’t break him too fast! Let the poor human warm up!"

Auren groaned inwardly.

’Oh perfect. Here comes the public humiliation arc. Again.’

On the platform, Micha’el tilted his head with exaggerated curiosity, his grin widening like he was savoring every second of this theatrical moment.

"Tell me, human," he drawled, voice echoing just enough to draw more eyes,

"how would you like your welcoming party here in Kadena?"

He paused, golden eyes gleaming.

"With applause... or bruises?"

Auren’s jaw tightened. Every word was a taunt, and every laugh that followed dug a little deeper.

But if they expected him to flinch, they were in for a surprise.

’Yep. Definitely that kind of arc. The classic: MC gets mocked, then proceeds to hand-deliver humility with a side of bruised ego on some fools.’

Micha’el moved with the swagger of someone born to applause, like he’d been told his whole life he was special- and never once questioned it.

"I heard you fought Vulkris one-on-one," he said with a sharp snort, lips curled.

"Sounds like total bullshit to me."

A booming laugh followed- half mocking, half gleeful.

The courtyard erupted with chuckles. It wasn’t hateful, but it stung all the same.

The kind of laughter that wrapped itself in doubt and smug disbelief. Some tried to mask it with awkward coughs. Others leaned into it, letting it echo freely.

Even the guards by the lodge gave each other knowing looks, quiet amusement flickering across their features.

Auren’s eyes swept across the gathering.

And among the faces in the crowd, a few familiar ones began to emerge through the noise.

Leon’do, ever nerdy, adjusted his glasses as though witnessing a rare magical beast in a zoo. Anast’cia stood nearby, arms crossed, her enchanted spear leaning on her shoulder. She said nothing, her face unreadable, but her eyes missed nothing.

Then there was Gondar- only son of the Velka Dar tribe’s chieftain- quiet as ever. He didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just stood there like a shadow carved from stone. His stare was heavy, unreadable, like a storm behind calm waters. At his sides, his twin daggers rested in their sheaths, glinting faintly- like patient predators lying in wait.

And through that thick silence, the voice returned.

Micha’el cracked his neck with a slow tilt, the sound sharp and deliberate- clearly meant to draw attention.

With one hand, he unslung his greatsword and let the blade catch the sunlight, gleaming like a challenge made manifest.

"To be honest," he said coolly, pointing the weapon at Auren, "I don’t care what stories they tell about you. Until I see it for myself, you’re nothing but an outsider. You don’t belong to Runewood."

He gave a crooked smile that lacked any warmth.

"So come on then, ’human hero.’ If you want our respect-"

His eyes narrowed.

"Earn it."

The words hung in the air like a blade drawn too close. Micha’el turned with casual confidence, stepping to the far edge of the sparring ring before glancing back over his shoulder.

That same smug smirk lingered on his face- sharp enough to cut barksteel.

He gestured with a tilt of his chin.

"You and me. One on one. Right here. Right now."

The crowd collectively leaned in, tension crackling like static.

Auren stared at him, then at the ring, then let out a slow sigh.

’So much for easing into elven culture.’.. If not for the queen’s demand, I’d rather collect herbs than play with this fool.’

Unfortunately for Auren, it didn’t look like he had much of a choice.

With a quiet sigh, he stepped forward.

In a smooth flick of his hand, his storage ring shimmered- and from it, the Divine Rapier flashed into existence. The silver blade materialized in a burst of light, its edge humming faintly with a golden aura that rippled like fire caught in still water.

Murmurs spread through the watching elves.

Some frowned. Others stiffened.

Seeing a human wield a weapon was one thing. But the way Auren moved- fluid, confident, practiced- unsettled them. His posture shifted, his eyes sharpened. The frail outsider they’d scoffed at seconds ago had vanished, replaced by something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Among the crowd, Rhiki’s eyes narrowed. His senses, honed from years of combat, flared. A chill crawled up his spine.

And for the briefest moment- just as Auren stepped onto the ring- he swore he saw it.

A flickering silhouette behind the human. Cloaked in smoke and fire.

A flaming grim reaper but with a sword, walking with a wicked smile towards the battlefield.

’What... is this feeling?’

Rhiki’s fingers twitched toward his weapon.

His instincts were burning-no, thrilled. A part of him was actually eager to see what came next.

Auren let out a breath and casually brushed the hair from his eyes while his hold tightened on the DR.

"Alright," he muttered with a calm voice.

"Let’s do just one round though. I’m not fully healed yet, so..."

He turned to Micha’el, his gaze sharp and cold as steel.

"Let’s make this quick, shall we?"