The arena was quiet. Too quiet.
I stood behind one of the tall stone pillars, arms crossed, watching the preparations. Everything had to look normal. To the nobles, this was a spectacle, an event to entertain the royal family and the high-ranking guests. What they didn't know was that the arena had become a chessboard, and every move they thought they controlled was actually being dictated by two liars standing in the shadows.
Seraphine arrived beside me, as graceful and calm as ever. Her cloak brushed the stone floor, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. Calm like that doesn't happen naturally—it's the kind of calm that hides storms. I made a mental note to never trust anyone who looks that serene.
"Everything set?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
She smiled faintly, a soft tilt of her lips. "Yes. But remember, Kael, the hero isn't stupid. He'll notice if something feels off."
"Good," I said, smirking. "That means he'll come looking for trouble. Exactly what I want."
We both glanced toward the gates. The arena's massive doors opened slowly, creaking with tension. And there he was—Elias Runeheart, the so-called hero of light. His silver armor gleamed in the sunlight, his white cape flowing perfectly behind him, his movements confident, poised. Too perfect. Too clean. And that damn smile of his—bright, infuriating, annoyingly composed—made me want to punch him straight in it.
He walked with the kind of grace only heroes in stories seem to have. People bowed, whispered, and fawned. Typical. And I could feel my pulse quicken—not because I was afraid, but because I love the thrill of playing a game no one else realizes exists.
I nudged Seraphine. "Stage one, distraction."
She raised a brow, the faintest curve of amusement in her eyes. "Your move, villain."
I stepped out into the open, making sure the sunlight hit just right, exposing me enough to make him notice. "Ah, Elias! How kind of you to join us. Careful not to trip over your own feet. The arena isn't as forgiving as the temple."
For a second, his smile faltered. Not much, just a twitch in his eyes. But I noticed. I always notice.
He began walking toward me, slow, deliberate, like he already suspected something but wasn't sure what. "Kael… up early today, aren't we?" he said.
"Had my tea," I replied, pretending to sip casually. "Might sharpen your wits before a fight. You should try it sometime."
Elias froze. That twitch again. The faintest tension in his shoulders. For a moment, I thought he'd charge me. But he didn't. He laughed lightly. That laugh. Annoying, bright, like he was untouchable.
"Is that all?" he asked. "Or were you planning something else?"
I glanced at Seraphine. She gave a tiny nod. Perfect timing.
Then came the trap—not swords, not knives. Too obvious. Subtle. A single panel in the arena floor, rigged to collapse under weight. Perfect for a careless hero. Enough to make him stumble, maybe injure him, maybe just scare him. But nothing too permanent.
I let my fingers hover near the lever, just to tease. "Step carefully, Elias. One wrong move, and let's see who laughs last."
He moved carefully, cautious. Tested the floor with the tip of his boot. He wasn't rushing. Not even close.
I muttered, irritation and excitement mixing in equal measure. He's good. Too good. And that, for the first time in a while, felt like a real challenge.
"Ready to tweak the plan?" I whispered to Seraphine.
She shook her head just enough for me to see. "No. Let him figure it out. The first mistake is always the most… educational."
I smirked, leaning slightly forward. He paused near the trap. One panel creaked. Then he stepped around it perfectly.
I almost let out a low laugh—almost. Not yet. Let him feel clever. Let him think he's ahead.
Elias glanced up, scanning the arena, scanning the shadows, and for the briefest second, his gaze flicked toward me.
I froze.
Seraphine's hand brushed against my arm. "Kael… he might see us."
I shrugged, casually, like it didn't matter. "Let him. Adds to the drama."
Every step he took was deliberate. He crouched slightly, testing the floor with his boot, calculating distances, observing patterns. That smile of his—the one that had annoyed me for months—was gone. Focus replaced it. Sharp, calculating. Dangerous.
I leaned closer to Seraphine, whispering, "He's learning faster than we thought. This is going to be fun."
Her lips curved into that faint, dangerous smile I'd learned to hate and respect. "We'll adjust later. For now… enjoy the show."
I chuckled softly, low and dark. "Yeah. This is better than any story I've read. Alive. Unpredictable. And honestly? I might actually lose if I'm not careful."
Elias took another careful step, scanning the area, evaluating risks, checking for traps. He was adapting. Faster than the original plot, faster than any hero in the book. And that, more than anything, sent a shiver down my spine.
I whispered to Seraphine, "Think he suspects there are two players now?"
"Maybe," she said softly. "But if he does… he's hiding it."
I raised a brow. "Good. Makes things more interesting. But also dangerous. Very dangerous."
The gates creaked again, echoing across the arena like a drumbeat in a silent room. Every shadow looked alive. Every panel felt like it was watching. I could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to choke on.
Seraphine and I exchanged a glance. Two liars. One hero. And now, the hero knew—at least partially—that something was very wrong.
I sipped my tea, letting the moment stretch. My dark humor, my sarcastic grin, all of it masked the truth: I was already planning the next move. The trap may have failed in the mechanical sense, but the real game had only begun.
And somewhere under that calm exterior, Seraphine knew it too.
Perfect.
The hero reacts. We watch. The game evolves. And the stakes are higher than ever.
End of Chapter 13🛡️