The Ardentis family’s estate was located in a secluded yet prestigious area, reflecting their noble status. It was well-guarded, with servants and knights ensuring their comfort.
A royal escort guided Duke Magnus and his family to their temporary home, and by the time they arrived, the night was already deep.
Lucius felt the weight of expectations pressing upon him, yet his heart remained calm and determined.
Tomorrow was his final day of training before the tournament began.
And he would make every moment count.
At dawn, Lucius awoke to the sight of Reynard.
"Get up, boy. Today, we train harder than ever."
Lucius didn’t need any more motivation.
From the early morning until midday, the sound of steel clashing echoed across the estate as he sparred relentlessly, pushing his swordplay and mana control to their very limits.
Reynard didn’t go easy on him—
Every strike Lucius made was countered, every movement he hesitated on was punished.
"Focus! Your mana reinforcement is strong, but it must be natural. It must flow like an extension of your body, not just a tool!"
Lucius gritted his teeth, his golden eyes sharp, and adjusted.
His Third Circle aura blade had grown denser, sharper—no longer flickering, but holding its shape with deadly stability.
By midday, sweat dripped from his brow, his muscles ached, and his mana reserves felt drained.
Reynard finally stepped back, crossing his arms.
"Enough. The body remembers, but the mind must be clear."
Lucius steadied his breath, wiping his forehead.
"What now?"
Reynard’s stern gaze softened slightly.
"Now? You meditate."
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Lucius raised an eyebrow.
"Meditate?"
"You’ve trained your body. Now, train your mind. A warrior who enters battle with a crowded mind is already half-defeated. Make your mind empty before tomorrow."
Lucius nodded, understanding the wisdom in Reynard’s words.
He returned to his quarters, preparing to enter deep meditation.
Sitting in the center of his room, Lucius closed his eyes and focused inward.
He could feel his mana flow—a roaring current that had only grown stronger over time.
He had already mastered the Third Circle, but he wanted more.
His desire to reach the Fourth Circle burned within him.
But… not today.
Lucius knew that rushing power led to instability.
"Small steps. I will reach the Fourth Circle… but only when the time is right."
Instead, he focused on honing what he already had.
He could feel it—
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His physical enhancements were stronger than ever.
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His mana reinforcement no longer wavered.
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His aura blade was thicker, heavier, more stable.
The night deepened as Lucius sat in stillness, his mind as clear as a calm lake.
He was ready.
As the night fell, the Ardentis family gathered for dinner—one last meal before the tournament.
Duke Magnus, seated at the head of the table, observed his son.
Lucius’ posture was calm, his expression collected—there was no fear, no hesitation in his golden eyes.
The Duke nodded approvingly.
"Tomorrow is an important day, Lucius. Do well."
Lucius lifted his gaze, his voice filled with quiet confidence.
"I will win."
The table fell silent for a moment.
His words were not arrogance—they were absolute certainty.
The two eldest brothers, who had always dismissed Lucius, felt their anger boil beneath the surface.
But Ardian, the third brother, and their sisters smiled.
They were happy to see Lucius wasn’t nervous or worried—he was simply determined.
And that was a sign of true strength.
At sunrise, the Imperial Capital transformed into a festival.
The entire city was decorated, banners waving in the wind, as crowds of people from different kingdoms filled the streets.
The tournament was not just an event—it was a spectacle.
For three days, the strongest young nobles and warriors would clash, proving themselves before the entire empire.
And the reward was something legendary—
An artifact capable of enhancing a warrior’s body, allowing them to reach the next mana circle faster.
A prize that could change a person’s fate.
At the colossal arena, thousands gathered.
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Nobles from different kingdoms.
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Ducal families from across the continent.
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The Imperial Family seated at the top, watching over everything.
In the center of the grand stage, the Empire’s Marshal of Cavalry—a man renowned for his strength and command in battle—stood tall.
His booming voice echoed across the arena.
"Let the Imperial Tournament begin!"
The crowd roared, the tension in the air almost tangible.
The commentators took their places, ready to announce every moment of glory and defeat.
And among the competitors, Lucius Ardentis stood tall, his golden eyes burning with anticipation.
The time had come.
The battle for dominance had begun.