CHAPTER 138: THE ALLIANCE OF VENDELIS AND EDWIN!

Her gaze landed briefly on a familiar face in the crowd—Cecelia. Though Cecelia’s family had not entered the competition, her sharp eyes followed Elysia with a silent, piercing intensity, like a blade scanning for weakness.

Then, further down the platform, she saw Edwin, a young heir from the Edwin family.

Their eyes met, and a small, confident smile passed between them—an unspoken acknowledgment that they might share a common purpose, or at least a mutual respect.

The crowd hushed as the ceremony began. The head of the Council of Clans stepped forward, his voice echoing in the courtyard.

"Today marks the beginning of the Festival of Trials! May the strongest, wisest, and most skillful rise to honor their families and themselves!"

"The strongest will be chosen to participate in the nation level hero"

Elysia felt the weight of her father’s gaze, grounding her even as excitement and anticipation tingled through her.

Once the ceremony concluded, Edwin approached her, bowing slightly.

"It seems we’re going to be on the same side in the trials," he said with a small grin. "Shall we make sure our families’ honor stays intact?"

Elysia matched his grin with one of her own. "We’ll do more than that," she said.

"We’ll make sure everyone remembers that the Vandeliš and Edwin families are not to be underestimated."

They walked together toward the waiting area for their team, discussing strategy in quiet tones, their voices blending with the murmur of the crowd.

Later, Elysia moved toward Lia’s family to inquire about Cecelia. Spotting Cecelia’s father near a side, she approached him politely.

"Uncle," she began, her voice respectful yet curious, "where is Cecelia? Isn’t anyone from your family participating this year?"

He looked at her gently, a warm smile softening his features. "I’m afraid not, my dear," he said kindly. "This year, we have no one to send to the Festival."

Elysia’s lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of disappointment passing through her. "I see," she said softly. "Still... it seems the trials will be all the more intense like every year."

Her father’s shadow was long at her side, a reminder that no matter the absence of other families, the weight of the Vandeliš name rested on her shoulders.

But Elysia’s determination burned bright—today was only the beginning, and she would not let anyone, royal or noble, underestimate her.

The first event was the Elite Sparring Matches, a test of combat prowess where each participant faced off against skilled opponents handpicked by the Council.

Elysia’s and Edwin’s first match was announced with a drumroll that echoed across the arena.

Their opponents were Marcel Thorn, a young swordsman from a rival noble house known for brute strength and unyielding aggression, and Eglos of the Terra family, a clever but unpredictable fighter.

Marcel sneered at Elysia as she stepped into the ring, his confidence oozing.

"Going to rely on your father’s gold to win this one, girl?" he taunted, swinging his blade carelessly.

Elysia’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need gold," she replied. She glanced at Edwin, who gave her a brief nod, the silent signal they had agreed on before the match.

As the horn sounded, the two teams moved into position. Edwin advanced first, using his swords to control the center, while Elysia circled, her Vandelis ancestral blade shimmering with faint elemental energy.

The crowd held its breath as the duel began.

Marcel lunged at Edwin with a brute force swing, but Edwin parried, stepping lightly aside.

"Try harder than that!" he called, baiting Marcel to overextend.

Elysia seized the opening. She darted in from the side, her footwork precise and light, striking at Marcel’s flank.

The ancestral blade hummed faintly as it met his defenses, sparks of elemental energy flickering along its edge.

Eglos, noticing Elysia’s movement, lunged toward her with a feint, aiming to catch her off guard.

But Elysia twisted gracefully, deflecting his strike and rolling backward. In one fluid motion, she came up behind him and slashed, forcing Eglos to retreat.

The two worked in perfect synchronization, almost as if they shared one mind. Edwin drew Marcel’s attention, forcing the swordsman to swing wildly, while Elysia struck from angles Marcel could not predict.

"Nice timing!" Edwin shouted, spinning his swords to push Marcel back.

"You’re going down!" Elysia replied, ducking under a wild strike and slicing at Marcel’s arm, making him stagger.

The Turning Point came when Marcel overcommitted to a heavy overhead slash aimed at Edwin.

Elysia pivoted, intercepting the blow mid-swing with a glint of elemental energy on her blade, and countered with a rapid series of precise cuts. Marcel stumbled, retreating to regain his footing.

Eglos tried to intervene, but Edwin anticipated it, thrusting his spear to push the Terra fighter back just long enough for Elysia to land another clean strike.

The crowd erupted into cheers, applauding the perfect teamwork and the display of skill that went far beyond mere wealth or status.

Marcel’s face twisted in disbelief. "You’re... better than I thought," he muttered, eyes narrowing as sweat and frustration ran down his face.

Elysia allowed herself a small, confident smile. She wasn’t just fighting to win—she was proving that the Vandelis name carried more than gold.

Together, she and Edwin had turned what others saw as a predictable match into a flawless display of precision, strategy, and teamwork.

Behind the Scenes.

Between matches, Elysia’s father met privately with influential figures from other noble families, including some close allies of the Halden family.

Though the Haldens and Cecelia’s family weren’t competing, their presence was felt in whispered conversations and guarded glances.

Politics was always at play — alliances formed, old grudges simmered beneath polite smiles.

Elysia’s father made it clear that while others might hesitate, the Vandelis family aimed to dominate the festival, both through strength and influence.

Despite the pomp, the banners, and the cheering crowd, Elysia felt the weight of expectation pressing down on her.

Every glance, every whisper, seemed magnified in the spotlight of the Festival of Trials. Her family name carried prestige, yes—but prestige alone could not carry her blade.

In the middle of the battle, she thought:

That night, she found herself on the rooftop of the Vandelis estate. The cool night breeze ruffled her crimson robes as she practiced alone, the ancestral sword humming faintly in her hands.