Chronicles of The God Slayer of Shadows-Chapter 52 - Fifty Two

The stands overflowed with spectators. Banners fluttered in the crisp morning wind. Where once cheers rang freely, now there was a heavy buzz of speculation — hushed tones discussing the Duke's banquet, the three rising contenders, and the silent power plays beneath the surface.

Adrien walked beside Damien down the stone path into the coliseum prep area. The sky overhead was cloudless, too calm — as if something was about to tip.

Damien gave a low whistle. "Feels different, doesn't it?"

Adrien nodded. "We're not just competitors anymore. Now we're pawns."

Fenrik, walking behind them, snorted. "You've always been pawns. You just weren't important enough to notice until now."

They rounded the corner into the fighters' enclosure. The noise of the crowd became a dull roar above.

A steward approached. "Adrien. Damien. Prince Kaelen. Your matches are staggered — you'll each fight today. Be ready."

Adrien's name was called first.

He stepped into the arena under a rising wall of applause and murmurs. Across from him stood a broad-shouldered warrior in crimson. There was something odd about the man — a faint shimmer in his veins, an unnatural energy thrumming in his stance.

Fenrik narrowed his eyes from above. "That one reeks of tampering."

The fight began fast.

Adrien dodged and countered, measured and unhurried. His movements were efficient, clean — almost effortless. The crowd gasped as his opponent's strikes met nothing but air and flickers of shadow.

But as the duel dragged on, the man's strength surged unnaturally. His skin glowed faintly red. His eyes wildened.

Damien muttered, "He took something. That's not normal."

"Devilroot," Fenrik said grimly. "He's burning his insides for a power boost. Desperate or foolish."

The crowd began to cheer louder, unaware or uncaring of the shift.

Adrien felt it too — the unnatural pressure, the way each strike from his opponent began to crack the stone beneath. Still, his face remained calm. He let the man wear himself down.

Finally, with a feint and a twist, Adrien caught him off-balance and drove his elbow into the man's throat — not fatal, but sharp enough to send him crashing to the ground.

The crowd exploded. The crimson fighter groaned, reaching for another dose of devilroot.

Adrien stepped on his hand.

"I'd stay down. Or your heart will do it for you."

The referee called it. Victory to Adrien.

As he left the ring, he passed Damien. "Your turn. Don't let them feed you a monster."

Damien grinned. "No promises."

His match was cleaner — a technical duel, not flashy, but sharp. Damien's movements were like dancing daggers. His opponent, though strong, couldn't match the precision. Damien won without blood, and with more cheers than Adrien had expected.

Back in the prep room, all three — Adrien, Damien, and Kaelen — stood silently.

Kaelen finally spoke. "That wasn't a match. That was an execution dressed as sport."

Adrien glanced sideways. "You felt it too."

Kaelen nodded. "We're being tested. Watched."

Fenrik joined them. "More than watched. They're figuring out who can be controlled."

Damien looked between them. "And if we can't?"

Adrien gave a faint smirk. "Then we become problems."