Cheers for Elisabeth and Nyra echoed through the mountains, and in the stands, members of the secondary branch wept with pride for the young girl who, born among them, had come so far.
"I've never seen forbidden magic used with such precision!" Mira cried from the commentator's platform, eyes sparkling.
"And it wasn't even destructive!" Tobias added. "They only used it to break the field's balance! That's pure strategy!"
But the Tournament didn't stop.
Sabine raised her hand, and silence fell like a blanket of snow.
"One more match remains in the first round."
A new roar erupted.
"Anneliese!" someone shouted from the stands. "Show them who the heir really is!"
"And Elias!" another called. "Only fifteen, but already a master of stealth!"
On the platform, Mira adjusted her robe with a nervous smile.
"This might be the most uneven duel of the day," she said. "On one side, Anneliese Grauheim and Lysander—the coldest mind in the family, favorite to win the Tournament, and her companion, whose loyalty is legendary."
"And on the other," Tobias continued, "Elias and his companion Hans—just fifteen years old, but already feared among treasure hunters. It's said he's recovered relics without anyone noticing."
Both pairs entered the stadium to thunderous applause.
Anneliese walked with the composure of a queen. Her plain black tunic fluttered slightly. Lysander at her side seemed smaller than ever, but his sapphire-blue eyes were fixed—alert.
Elias, by contrast, moved with silent steps, almost floating. Hans, his cat with a small golden mark on his ear, glided like a shadow at his left.
No fanfare. Only respect.
Sabine raised her voice.
"Let the fourth match begin!"
The stadium transformed.
The Andean terraces vanished. In their place rose a dark forest—twisted trees, branches like claws, thick mist, and a silence that seemed to devour sound.
Perfect for stealth.
Perfect for vanishing.
Anneliese and Elias faced each other. Both raised their wands in an ancient gesture: the salute of fair duel.
Lysander and Hans locked eyes. Both nodded.
"Now!" Sabine commanded.
Elias didn't waste a second.
Without incantation, without moving his wand, he melted into the shadows. Hans did the same, disappearing as if he'd never existed.
The crowd held its breath.
"He's everywhere and nowhere!" an elder whispered.
But Lysander was already moving.
"Incendio Maxima!"
A wave of fire surged from his claws, spreading across the ground, burning away the mist, charring low branches, flooding the forest with hellish light.
"He's forcing them out!" Mira shouted.
And it worked.
From the shadows, Hans shot forward like lightning, weaving between flames, straight for Lysander.
Lysander dodged with a leap—but Hans had already launched a silent Stupefy.
The spell struck.
At the same instant, Hans twisted midair and headbutted Lysander with magic-infused force, sending him flying several meters back.
Lysander rolled, rose to his feet. His fur was singed, but his eyes remained steady.
"You didn't hurt me," he purred.
Meanwhile, Anneliese hadn't moved.
Not a step. Not a blink. She hadn't even raised her wand.
And just as Lysander was sent reeling backward…
a shadow emerged behind Anneliese.
Elias.
Wand in one hand, a glowing power rune blazing on his left fist, he cast a silent Expelliarmus and lunged to strike her with the rune—an attack that didn't just knock down, but sealed magic for seconds.
But before the spell touched her…
A Protego shimmered around her.
The Expelliarmus rebounded. Elias's rune fizzled out upon contact with the shield.
The stadium erupted.
"She didn't move a muscle!" Tobias cried. "No incantation! No wand raised! She summoned a Protego with her mind!"
"That's the highest level of magic!" Newt said, awestruck. "Only the most disciplined can do that!"
Elias, shocked, retreated into the shadows.
Anneliese finally moved.
"Lysander," she said clearly, "we have no time to waste."
Lysander meowed in agreement.
Anneliese raised her wand—for the first time.
She pointed it to the sky.
"Lumos Maxima!"
But this wasn't an ordinary Lumos.
She infused it with ancestral magic from ancient Egyptian civilizations.
The light that exploded from her wand's tip wasn't white. It was silver—like the moon during a total eclipse. It radiated in all directions, piercing the mist, burning away shadows, illuminating every corner of the forest.
Not a single shadow remained.
"She shattered his stealth field!" Mira shouted.
Elias and Hans appeared instantly—disoriented, blinking in the blinding glare.
Lysander didn't hesitate.
He wrapped himself in a blue aura of speed—similar to Kael's, but more stable, more controlled, and more amplified—and charged Hans.
Hans tried to defend himself, but was still dazed by the light.
"Stupefy!" Lysander yowled.
"Confringo!"
"Impedimenta!"
Three spells in rapid succession.
Hans collapsed, unconscious.
Meanwhile, Anneliese struck the ground with her wand.
"Tenebrae Vincula!"
Black chains erupted from the earth—the same magic Nathael used against Lukas—and lunged toward Elias.
But unlike Nathael, who could summon them wordlessly, Anneliese required the incantation.
A subtle difference.
But a significant one.
The chains ensnared Elias before he could move.
"I surrender," he said with dignity.
Sabine raised her hand.
"Victory to Anneliese Grauheim and Lysander."
The stadium roared.
"The heir shows no mercy!" an uncle cried. "She's relentless!"
"And Lysander!" another shouted. "Today he wasn't timid—he was a warrior!"
In the stands, Karl nodded with respect. Elisabeth watched intently, calculating. Nathael, at the entrance, observed in silence.
Celestia, on his shoulder, purred softly.
"Never underestimate Anneliese. Never."
Sabine walked to the center of the field.
"With this, the first round of the Tournament of Ancient Blood concludes."
The magical screens displayed the results:
Nathael and Celestia
Karl and Orin
Elisabeth and Nyra
Anneliese and Lysander
"The semifinals will be as follows:
Nathael and Celestia vs. Karl and Orin
Elisabeth and Nyra vs. Anneliese and Lysander
A fresh roar erupted.
"You have one hour to rest," Sabine announced. "Prepare yourselves. Because in the semifinals… there will be no mercy."
Outside the Stadium
Nathael and Celestia walked along the path through the ancestral forest, far from the noise.
"Karl isn't like Lukas," Celestia said, tail low. "He doesn't rely on speed. He relies on experience."
"I know," Nathael said.
"And Orin…" Celestia continued. "He's one of the wisest cats I know. If you give him time, he'll conjure traps even the ancients wouldn't recognize."
"Then we won't give him time," Nathael said, gently stroking Celestia's ears. "We won't let him breathe. We'll attack from the first second—and won't stop until they're on the ground."
Celestia nodded.
"Good. Because if Karl thinks he can use his age as an advantage… he's wrong."