The tournament had officially begun.

Aizen’s arena was abuzz with excited cheers and roars as thirty thousand citizens — who were lucky enough to buy a ticket in time — raised their fists. Viewed from above, the glorious structure was made of three layers: a thick circle where the audience generally sat, a smaller circle with nothing in it but a low floor, and a massive raised square platform in the middle.

‘How noisy.’

The royal family — including the second prince who would be participating in a glorious exhibition match after the tournament — and a few other people sat in a special elevated private enclosure that gave them a very good view of just about everything in the stadium, with magically imbued glass screens floating along the room showing a close-up shot of random spots below.

After Rodin gave some long-winded speech that Reivan didn’t bother to pay attention to, slightly more than a hundred participants lined up and presented themselves on the platform below. The mortal peasants who mostly consisted of hobbyists or dueling enthusiasts took a knee and recited some kind of pledge about sportsmanship — naturally, Reivan didn’t pay much attention to this part either since he was much too busy thinking about his own matters.

Roland and Jiji on the other hand were busy talking to the ambassadors from the Magitechnocratic Republic of Arkhan. Once again, Reivan ignored these insignificant guests, only bothering to deign them with a smile and a nod before sinking back into his thoughts. Besides, his two siblings would likely extract more from conversing with foreign dignitaries than he ever could.

Especially since he didn’t remember much of anything except for combat right now.

‘Karuna warned me about this, but it still feels strange.’

Even with his boosted memory, Reivan had still lost most of his other skills. The white-haired fairy within his soul said that he would find them again, but this would take some time. It was slightly inconvenient but Reivan wouldn’t have done anything any different.

‘I need to win. That’s all that matters for now.’

Reivan leaned back on his seat as the rest of his family busied themselves with their own matters, his gaze lowered to the floor as the tournament participants fought below. The youngest prince began sinking into his own thoughts.

It may have been a result of his request to not be disturbed, but despite being surrounded by people, he felt very… alone. His uncle Viktor standing over by the door as a guard, his mother, and even his youngest sister were all throwing frequent glances at him, failing spectacularly to hide their worry from his notice.

Thankfully, they were stopping themselves to let him focus on his task.

[Chaos Origin] has activated!

All the magic power within his body and even the blood that flowed through his veins immediately erupted with controlled power. Twenty years was enough time for a man to forget what someone looked like, yet it wasn’t enough for him to truly master the utilization of the chaos energy.

Still, he managed to learn some things.

‘At the very least, I can control it quite well as long as I’m not in combat… Though, that’s not very useful right now.’

The ethereal chaos filled Reivan’s body, causing him immense pain. And yet, his face was a mask of stone, unmoving. As he focused, a measure of order was established, and the energy flowed like a river — a river in the midst of a raging storm, but a river nonetheless.

Reivan closed his connection to the chaos origin, watching passively as the volatile nature of everything within him eventually died down, returning to its previous state — as it should be.

‘I wish I had time to practice Release more. Damn. I should have practiced that instead of learning all those shitty aetherblade arts…’

He’d only realized a solution to his chaos energy going berserk after he’d learned enough aetherblade arts. But if he’d been inspired by the idea earlier, he would have definitely focused on that instead.

‘Nothing I can do at this point.’

Reivan was tempted to dip back into his mind for ten or so years. Surely, nobody would notice anything if he diluted time enough. The mortal tournament would last for a few hours, after all. That would be plenty of time.

‘No. No, that’s a bad idea, I think.’

No matter how useful it was, Reivan couldn’t ignore the alarm bells ringing in his head. He didn’t need his intuition to tell him that more than this would be dangerous. Karuna would be furious too, not that it mattered.

‘Wait, no. That should matter. I can’t ignore the words of someone who’s looking out for me…’

Reivan frowned and shook his head. Already, he was noticing things about himself he didn’t like very much. He took a deep breath and heaved a massive sigh. If he didn’t have to maintain his business smile, he would have already closed his eyes and meditated. Sadly, Roland had told him that eyes were an important aspect of any smile.

Furthermore, if the people below saw him with his eyes closed for a long time, they’d think he was sleeping on such an "important" occasion — which obviously wouldn’t do the royal family’s reputation any favors.

‘Win.’

Reivan took another deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment as he released it. Once he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze sharpened, his thoughts once again swirling with all the different ways he’d prepared to attain victory.

‘I have to win.’

The tournament eventually ended, with a thirty-year-old lady who owned some sort of fighting club taking the championship. Rodin invited the victor to the VIP box and personally shook her hand, almost melting the lady’s brain in the process with his presence alone.

They had to have knights escort the champion out since her knees were too weak. The rest of the royal family were supposed to shake her hand too, but she didn’t seem to have the capacity for that anymore.

Needless to say, it wasn’t the first tournament where the champion had such a reaction. So most people just laughed it off and went on with their day. Reivan, though, felt a bit of exasperation at the overreaction, but this was just the way things were in Aizen — the king was practically a deity to the common man.

In any case, it was now time for Reivan to act.

Rodin explained the exhibition match and its rules, but Reivan also didn’t pay much attention to that. Though he was surprised that he would only have three opponents. He’d expected six or seven, but that number had been cut down by half it seemed.

‘Damn. That’s inconvenient.’

Reivan could only think of three people who could have been responsible for this change: his father, the Sword Star, or a certain balding old man who seemed to have made it his purpose in life to make things harder for Reivan.

Needless to say, he would’ve bet his life that it was Donovan’s doing.

‘They’re all probably half-ascendants because of that. Or at least close to it.’

Reivan of course knew that just because someone was a half-ascendant didn’t mean they were on the same level as his mother when she’d held herself back from ascension.

To be called a half-ascendant, one only needed two things:

To polish their physical body — or their vessel, as some might call it — to the limit so it could carry the burden of ascension.

And to have the capability of fusing their magic power and qi to create essence, a higher form of supernatural energy.

To ascend, one needed to fill their body with essence and let it sit there for some time, letting vessels and energy fuse. It sounded simple, but if it actually was, they would have had enough ascendants to make a wall around the capital with their bodies — like a certain main character from a certain anime did.

‘Damn. That reminds me. I’m never going to see the manga adapted into anime, huh? Fuck. I died too soon…’

A flicker of emotion flashed across his face but it quickly died down. If he let himself get dejected over all the wonderful series he would never read to completion or see moving on the screen, he would have already been diagnosed with fatal depression.

“Rein.”

Reivan was snapped out of his thoughts by his father’s voice. The king had apparently finished his spiel and was motioning at the audience with his eyes.

‘He wants me to make a speech too…’

Reivan almost cursed under his breath. More than twenty years in his ability, and he didn’t spend a single second practicing a speech.

While resisting the urge to sigh, Reivan stood up and walked up to the edge of the VIP box. The enclosure they were in looked more like the balcony of a mansion rather than the private boxes of his old world. There wasn’t even any glass separating the people inside from the outside elements — though his eyes could make out an invisible wall that seemed ready to solidify at the first sign of danger.

‘Here goes nothing.’

He took a moment to check if he was smiling the way his brother had thought him and raised his hand, giving the masses a wave.

“Good day, citizens of Aizen. For those who do not know, I am Reivan Aizenwald, son of King Rodin and Queen Vianna.”

Reivan let his hand fall, resting it on the railing. His voice seemed to have been magically magnified by some sort of function with how it echoed throughout the stadium, just like how it did so for his father. He let his words hang in the air for a second or two before continuing, his tone stern and calm.

“I have the pleasure of serving as the kingdom’s second prince. While the throne will never be mine to ascend and my temperament may not align with the realm of bureaucracy, I intend to dedicate myself to a more… physical means of ensuring Aizen’s prosperity. I am young. Only fifteen years old. But I have worked hard to polish myself for this noble role.”

He once again let all who listened digest his words before he continued, placing his palm against his chest and dipping his head very slightly.

“You are all welcome to witness the results of my endeavor in the exhibition match today.”

Reivan couldn’t come up with anything else so he looked toward his father.

“Good.” Rodin beamed, turning his attention back to the citizens below. The king raised his fist and declared. “Let it be known!”

Taking his words as a signal, the massive crowd once again erupted into cheers. Some of them, Reivan noted, were calling out his name and how he wanted him to live well and live long. Some even wanted him to bless their babies, or even make babies with them.

‘Well, that went over well.’

“Now, let us see the three valiant adversaries that he will face!” Rodin declared in a booming voice.

On the other side of the even platform below, three armored figures walked out into the light, glorious fanfare heralding their arrival. A bit of white mist — seemingly produced by tonnes of dry ice hidden somewhere — filled the stage as the knights made their way to the middle of the platform. They all knelt, facing where Rodin was.

Reivan observed the three carefully. The three were wrapped in non-standard armor that didn't show any skin at all — which made sense since revealing a knight's combat skills and their identities would be foolish. At least, this way, any spies couldn't match a face with the skills that would be shown in the fight. Instead of the visored barbuta-style helms that Aizen's knights usually wore, these ones wore sallets. Their armor, though similarly full plate, was also different from the ones that knights usually manifested through their [Soul Armaments].

Though their helms — each marked with a different colored plume to differentiate them from one another — seemed to hinder their vision, Reivan knew it would hardly matter. The armor created through an advanced application of their [Soul Armaments] could become one with the user, basically serving as an extension of the body. This armor didn't provide protection the way ordinary steel did, though. Rather, they bestowed their wearers with Damage Resistance that completely blocked force below a certain threshold as well as protected the knight from anything else that was harmful, while heavily reducing damage that went beyond that threshold.

Another advantage of this application was that there were no gaps to damage resistance. An assailant would meet the same amount of resistance anywhere they struck.

Reivan knew this well since he could manifest soul armor too. He had an invisible one on right at this instant — since there was no need for the [Soul Armament]'s armor to physically look like it was there to protect a knight — a carefully protected secret that had foiled numerous assassination attempts on sleeping knights throughout the kingdom's early history.

'Three males... No, wait. Two females? And one male. Huh.'

The three knights' thick armor that wasn't form-fitting in any sense of the imagination made it a bit hard to tell, but checking their statuses made things obvious.

~^+— Unit's Statistics —+^~ Name: Villago Suprana

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 64

Sex: Male

Special Abilities [NONE]

Might: 1100 Extra Skills Elemental Affinities: [Darkness] [Water] [Keen Intuition] [Malevolence]

[Qi: Unleashed] Favor: (Loyalty / Curiosity ) 70 / 100 Threat Level: N/A (This unit's favor is too high) ~^+— Unit's Statistics —+^~ Name: Sienna Suprana

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 29

Sex: Female

Special Abilities [NONE] Might: 986 Extra Skills Elemental Affinities: [Fire] [Intuition] [Qi: Unleashed]

[Faith] Favor: (Loyalty / Indifference) 100 / 100 Threat Level: N/A (This unit's favor is too high) ~^+— Unit's Statistics —+^~ Name: Gwendolyn Suprana

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 21

Sex: Female

Special Abilities [Third Eye]

Might: 1150 Extra Skills Elemental Affinities: [Light] [Lightning] [Earth] [Intuition] [Qi: Unleashed]

[Limit Break] Favor: (Loyalty) 100 / 100 Threat Level: N/A (This unit's favor is too high)

'As expected. Three knights who are all close to ascension.'

One of them even had a special ability, Reivan cursed. He immediately took a moment to examine it further.

[Third Eye]

Passive:

Bestows this unit with advanced perception.

Sub-Skill #1: [Future Vision] Passive: This unit randomly catches glimpses of the future. Chances have an increased chance of triggering during mortal peril. Sub-Skill #2: [Focused Future Vision] Active: By concentrating on a limited number of entities, gain consistent glimpses into their future, foreseeing events a few seconds ahead of the present. Proficiency significantly enhances the effectiveness of this skill.

'How vague. Vague descriptions are more troublesome though...'

Reivan resisted the urge to click his tongue. It seemed that the one with the yellow — almost golden — plume on her helm would be his greatest adversary. Though the woman with a red plume and the man with a blue plume definitely wouldn't let him off easy either. One had the extra skill that all priests of Sormon seemed to have and the other possessed a skill that only people in a certain line of work managed to obtain.

"Rein." Rodin suddenly placed a rough and heavy palm on his son’s shoulder, the voice magnifying effect wearing off even though he didn’t seem to have done anything special. “Good speech, son.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“I only wanted you to answer if you were ready or not though. Were you not listening?”

Reivan frowned, the middle of his brows furrowing. “... I’m sorry.”

Rodin waved him off. “It’s not a big deal. Not anymore. Everyone seemed to like your speech though, albeit a bit sudden and unprompted.”

“Yes…”

The king seemed amused at his son’s mild embarrassment, smiling warmly as he gestured below. His eyes scanned the surrounding crowd. "Do you see them all, Rein? The people. Not the three knights."

"Yes, Father." Reivan nodded with a brow raised in curiosity. "I do."

"All of them. Every. Single. One of them. Are suddenly thrust into this world as commoners. Without their input, they are told that there's some sort of royal family that is apparently much more important than they were. Even without doing anything, their standings are below some strangers they rarely even meet. And for their entire lives, even far into the future when their children's children are but dust, it will stay that way."

"Indeed..."

"The least we can do for them is to do things right. The least we can do... is set their minds at ease. To show them. Show them that we deserve to stand above them. Even if it's just a little."

Reivan nodded again as his father's grip tightened. "Yes, Father."

"Do not disappoint them, Rein."

Rodin turned his head toward Reivan, his blue eyes radiating a regal intensity that Reivan had almost forgotten since he'd felt it years ago.

"Do not disappoint me."

Reivan met the king's gaze and placed a fist against his own heart. "... Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good."

Rodin's countenance shifted, a regal smile gracing his features as he turned toward the thunderous crowd. His voice, now amplified by a supernatural essence, resonated with authority.

"Prince Reivan shall now elect his first challenger among the knights, engaging them in battle until each adversary succumbs. As this contest concludes, either the triumvirate obtains victory, or the prince shall stand as the solitary victor upon this stage!"

With his father's prompting look, Reivan chuckled calmly.

His father may have intended for him to fight a gauntlet match, fighting one knight at a time, but Reivan had other plans.

Reivan placed his foot on the railing, easily getting both feet on it with a light kick. As thousands of eyes focused on him, Reivan jumped off, surprising the citizens below. He plummeted to the ground but before he could shatter the ground with his fall, his body turned into an intangible clump of black mist, which rapidly flew up onto the elevated platform.

"Fighting three duels is a waste of time."

A longsword appeared in his hand and he stabbed it into the floor, placing both palms atop its pommel as he declared in a voice that dripped with authority. He scanned the surroundings, drinking in the gazes of tens of thousands before his gaze eventually landed on the three knights, whose curious expressions were hidden from those with mundane eyes.

Reivan took a deep breath as he steeled himself for what was about to come.

And then, he announced his intentions.

"All three of you. I will fight you all at once."