Noel moved quickly through the narrow corridors of the arena.

'I need to hurry. Torwan will act fast, it's a race against time now.'

He didn't know Tyria's exact location, but Noir was already on her trail. Her nose was too precise to fail now. Somewhere in these halls, the dwarf girl he had just defeated was walking straight into danger — and he couldn't let that happen.

'The match between Marcus and Anastasia should be happening now… the winner of that fight will face me in the next round.' He clenched his jaw. 'But right now, that doesn't matter.'

A flicker of movement caught his eye.

Noir's tail slipped around a corner in the distance. Noel picked up the pace and followed. The halls here were mostly empty — restricted to participants and event staff — which made things easier.

Then he saw her.

Tyria was ahead, small frame walking stiffly toward one of the closed doors at the end of the corridor. She looked like she was trying not to draw attention, but her body language was tense as if she was controlled.

Noel caught up fast.

He reached out and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Hey. You need to come with me. Now."

Tyria flinched and turned, eyes wide. "Oh… you're the one who beat me. I'm sorry, I really have to go somewhere right now—"

Her voice shook. It was subtle, but it was there. Fear.

Noel narrowed his eyes. "I know. You were using a power enhancer, weren't you?"

Her lips parted in shock. "How did y—?"

"I'll explain later. Right now, you have to trust me. I can help you."

"I wish I could… but I can't. Look at my neck."

Noel looked — just barely visible above the collar of her uniform was a jagged, black mark. It wasn't a tattoo but something strange indeed.

"What is that?"

"I don't know. But whatever it is, it's making me move. I'm headed to… his office."

"You mean your director?"

Tyria gave a weak nod.

Noel exhaled. "Alright. We're leaving."

"I… I'm not moving by choice right now."

He paused. "Do you know if I could carry you if you were unconscious?"

"I don't… I don't know."

Noel drew Revenant Fang from his belt. "Well… guess we're about to find out. Close your eyes. It won't hurt. Promise."

Tyria didn't resist. She closed her eyes.

Thud.

The hilt of Revenant Fang struck the base of her neck with precision. Tyria collapsed instantly but not onto the floor.

Noir had already transformed, rising in an instant into her large wolf form nearly three meters tall now. She caught Tyria carefully across her back.

Noel blinked. "Wow. You just keep growing, huh? I guess it's thanks to all the training and the tournament… I must've gotten stronger too."

He scratched behind his ear. "Wonder if you've got a growth limit. Looks like you'll be eating more than ever."

Noir huffed lightly, her massive form steady beneath the unconscious dwarf girl.

Noel nodded once. "Let's go. We're heading to Nicolas' office."

Without wasting another second, he turned and ran through the hallways, his steps now echoing with urgency.

Noel moved swiftly through the interior of the arena, cutting through corridors with practiced ease. With Noir behind him,now towering and silent, they avoided the main halls, slipping past corners and alcoves meant for staff and participants.

Anyone who saw them paused instinctively. Noel was recognizable as a competitor, and technically, he had the right to be here.

But walking through the restricted halls with an unconscious dwarf girl slumped across a massive black wolf's back?

That was a different story.

Each time they passed someone, Noel would slow, keep his head down, and wait until the path cleared.

Eventually, they reached the familiar hallway.

He grabbed the handle and opened the door to Nicolas' office without knocking.

Inside, the room was just like before, clean and simple. Four chairs, a table in the center.

But this time, he wasn't alone.

Charlotte was there, and not in her usual disguise. Without the Sancta Veil, her long pink hair spilled over her shoulders, framing her delicate features. Her amber eyes widened the instant she saw him.

"Ah! You scared me!" she gasped. "I thought someone had discovered I'm the Saint."

Noel stepped inside. "Don't worry. It's just me."

Noir entered a second later, her paws heavy on the wooden floor as she stepped in carrying Tyria's unconscious form.

Elyra tilted her head. "Why is the girl unconscious?"

"I hit her," Noel said plainly, walking toward the center of the room. "I'll explain everything in a second."

Nicolas stood from his seat, looking over calmly. "Have Noir lay her down on one of the chairs."

With a nod, Noel gave the signal, and Noir gently shifted her body until Tyria rested upright on a seat.

Charlotte stepped forward, her expression changing.

"You want me to give her a Blessing, right?"

Noel didn't respond immediately. His jaw clenched. He hated it, he knew what using a Blessing meant for her. Every time she performed one, her lifespan was shortened, even if only slightly.

But they had no other option.

He gave her a single nod.

Charlotte looked at him for a moment, then walked over slowly, already preparing herself.

Before Charlotte could begin, Noel raised a hand.

"Wait, before you start. Can one of you loosen her top a bit? I need Nicolas to see something."

Elyra lifted an eyebrow, her tone dry. "Asking your girlfriends to undress another girl? Bold move, Noel."

Elena crossed her arms. "This isn't the time for jokes, Elyra."

Without further delay, Elena stepped forward and gently pulled back the collar of Tyria's uniform. The moment the fabric shifted, a sharp intake of breath filled the room.

There it was.

A black mark etched into the skin of her neck, thick, coiling, and unnaturally still. Not a tattoo. Not a scar. Something in-between. It resembled a collar, wrapping beneath her skin like a binding contract.

Nicolas leaned in slightly, inspecting it with practiced calm.

"Hm. It's not blood magic, that much is clear. Nothing like Kaelith's… craft." He narrowed his eyes. "But this is something just as insidious. A binding enchantment. Commands spoken by the master can't be resisted. The will is forcibly suppressed."

Noel clenched his fist.

'A leash…'

"The important question," he said aloud, "can a Blessing remove it?"

Nicolas didn't hesitate. "Absolutely. Blessings are miracles. Depending on the strength of the Saint, or the Pope, they could bring someone back from the brink of death. This is well within that range."

Noel turned to Charlotte.

She had already stepped back, folding her hands in front of her chest. Her expression was calm… but solemn.

Without speaking, she lowered her head and assumed a prayer stance.

The room fell silent.

- Torwan POV -

Back on the balcony reserved for directors, the atmosphere remained tense but focused. The crowd roared in the background, the tournament matches continued without pause.

Nicolas' chair was still empty as he didn't return from the bathroom.

Torwan sat still, his fingers interlocked as his assistant approached from behind, leaning in close to whisper.

"Sir… she isn't in the office. I went myself, but Tyria never arrived."

Torwan didn't move at first. Then, slowly, he turned his head just slightly, his voice a low murmur.

"How is that possible…? She bears the slavery mark."

The assistant looked visibly uneasy. "I don't know, sir."

Torwan's gaze sharpened.

"Start a search. I want every corridor in this arena checked. Now."

The assistant nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

As he stepped away, a voice to Torwan's left interrupted the moment.

Seated beside him was a tall woman with long violet hair, braided neatly down one side. She wore flowing robes of deep purple silk, and her gaze, as always, was razor-sharp.

The Director of Luceria Grand Academy.

"Is something wrong, Torwan?"

He gave a small shrug, his expression unreadable.

"Nothing serious. Just a problem in the restrooms. It's already been handled."

"Wasn't Nicolas there?"

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