Realm Lord

"Aziel!" The name rang out clear and strong.

"Aziel!" More voices joined the chorus.

"Aziel! Aziel! Aziel!" The chant grew until it seemed to shake the very planks beneath their feet.

Aziel looked up from his position on the ground, his bloodied face a mask of confusion and wonder as he took in the incredible scene around him. Hundreds of faces looked back at him, not with pity or disappointment, but with genuine admiration and respect. The crowd’s energy was infectious, and despite his physical pain, Aziel felt something warm and unexpected bloom in his chest.

Slowly, the confusion on his face began to part like morning clouds, making way for a sly grin that developed into a full, genuine smile. He awkwardly pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he found his balance, and reached up to scratch the back of his head in a gesture that was both humble and endearing.

Grey’s smile, however, had completely vanished from his face like smoke in a strong wind. His expression darkened as his face flushed an angry red, the color spreading from his neck to his hairline. For the first time since meeting him, Aziel and Arthur witnessed Grey’s carefully maintained composure crack and crumble entirely.

"Are you all completely stupid!?" Grey’s voice rose to a near shriek, cracking with the strain of his fury. "I won! I beat the crap out of that kid!" He gestured frantically between himself and Aziel, as if the physical evidence of his victory should be obvious to anyone with eyes.

Aziel looked at Grey’s increasingly agitated state and couldn’t help but grin wider. The expression on his bruised and bloodied face was one of genuine amusement, which only served to fuel Grey’s rage further.

Grey’s hands balled into tight fists, his whole body trembling with barely contained anger. "You little shit," he snarled through gritted teeth, taking a menacing step toward the still-grinning Aziel.

But before Grey could close the distance, his attention was suddenly drawn to movement on his left. Arthur had emerged from the crowd and was climbing the platform steps with deliberate, measured movements. There was a look in his eyes that could have melted steel—a glaring intensity that seemed to bore holes right through Grey’s skull.

"The spar is over," Arthur stated with calm authority as he reached the top of the platform. His voice carried a quiet menace that was far more threatening than any shout could have been. "Anything you do now won’t be a spar... and you’ll be fighting both of us."

As if to emphasize his point, Arthur’s shadow began to move and writhe around him. Responding to his emotions and intent.