The Myrrhvale mansion rose before them. Nyssara led the small procession with silent grace, her robes flowing like waves behind her. Trafalgar followed at a measured distance, his expression calm but unreadable. Zafira walked beside him, one hand holding the little girl's trembling fingers. The guard trailed last, eyes fixed on the marble floor, his pride coiled into his jaw like a knot that refused to loosen.

As they entered the grand hall, a figure appeared at the far end of the corridor. Lyren, dressed in light robes, looked up from the set of scrolls he carried. The surprise in his eyes was immediate.

"Mother?" he said, blinking once. "I didn't expect you here tonight."

Nyssara's tone was smooth, her authority natural. "A matter of honor, my son. Nothing more."

His gaze shifted between Trafalgar and the guard, then to the small girl hiding behind Zafira's robes. "A matter of… honor?"

Nyssara's eyes held his for a heartbeat before she turned away. "You'll understand soon enough. Prepare the lower courtyard. We will be conducting a formal duel."

Lyren straightened instinctively. "At this hour?"

Her response was simple. "Tradition doesn't keep time."

The young heir gave a slight bow and gestured for the servants to activate the mana conduits below. The floors pulsed faintly with soft blue light, revealing the circular passage that led to the submerged courtyard.

As they walked, the tension deepened. The girl's soft steps echoed behind them, and Zafira looked once at Trafalgar — at his quiet posture and steady eyes — but said nothing.

The ocean's pressure could be felt faintly through the walls as they descended, the hum of enchantments resonating around them like a heartbeat beneath the sea.

Nyssara finally stopped before a set of arched doors carved with the emblem of her House — a trident surrounded by coiling waves.

"Here," she said. "This place will suffice."

The doors opened with a muted hiss of mana. The dueling ground awaited — a circle of marble and suspended water, calm and glistening under the dome's blue light.

Nyssara turned her gaze to both men. "We will settle this now."

Zafira knelt beside the little girl while Nyssara and Lyren began arranging the barrier around the marble ring. The faint hum of mana filled the air like distant thunder beneath the water. The girl clung tightly to Zafira's sleeve, her eyes wide and uncertain.

Trafalgar stood a few steps away, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, gaze fixed on the empty dueling ground. The silence stretched between them until Zafira finally spoke.

"She's terrified," she murmured. "You could at least say something to her."

He didn't turn around. "And what would that change?"

Zafira frowned, rising to her feet. "You can't just ignore her, Trafalgar. You were the one who demanded to take her."

That made him glance over his shoulder, one brow lifting slightly. "Don't misunderstand. I didn't take her — I just stopped them from disposing of her. And I didn't do it for myself, like I told you, I wouldn't have gotten into this."

Zafira's expression softened, the words sinking in. "Then… what will you do with her?"

"Nothing," he said simply. "I don't plan to get involved. When this is over, talk to Cynthia and Barth. Tell them to take her to the orphanage in Velkaris. They'll know what to do."

Zafira tilted her head slightly. "You sound cold when you say it like that."

Trafalgar exhaled through his nose, his tone flat but honest. "If I cared every time someone suffered, I wouldn't survive in this world. But leaving her here isn't an option either."

The girl tugged on Zafira's sleeve again, whispering softly, "I don't want to go back…"

Zafira knelt again and brushed the girl's hair gently. "You won't," she whispered. "I'll make sure of it."

Trafalgar turned his gaze toward them, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes — pity, perhaps, or restraint. "Just… keep her out of trouble until we leave," he said, voice low.

Zafira looked up at him. "You're not as heartless as you act, you know."

He gave a faint, humorless smirk. "Don't test that theory."

Before Zafira could reply, Nyssara's voice carried across the chamber, calm yet commanding.

"Enough chatter. Lord Trafalgar, step forward."

He adjusted his sleeves and walked toward the center of the circle, his footsteps echoing against the marble. The duel was about to begin.

Trafalgar stepped into the center of the circular platform, the surface beneath his boots smooth as polished glass.

Lyren stood behind Nyssara, hands clasped behind his back, while Zafira and the girl watched from the edge in silence.

The barrier shimmered to life — a translucent wall of liquid mana rising around the marble ring, sealing them in. Nyssara's voice echoed softly inside the dome.

"This duel will be clean and swift. No outside interference. Victory is earned, not granted."

Trafalgar gave a single nod. His gaze slid toward the man opposite him — the Myrrhvale guard, his stance solid, almost ceremonial. He could feel the flow of mana radiating from him, steady and refined.

'Hmm… his core strength feels different.' Trafalgar's eyes narrowed slightly, analyzing the faint ripples of mana radiating from the man. 'Flow Stage… he's already advanced. That puts me a level beneath him, still in Pulse.'

He tilted his head a fraction, the thought continuing in silence. 'A disadvantage, sure — but not by much. With all the items I have, the gap isn't something I can't bridge.'

He let out a slow breath, focusing. The air trembled for a second, and a pulse of dark light spiraled around his right hand.

Maledicta materialized in his grasp, emerging like ink poured into shape — black steel veined with faint dark blue streaks that shimmered as if alive. Its edge hummed softly, a sound that didn't belong to this world.

He glanced down at his empty torso. For a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind — to summon that armor. The new one. The one he hadn't tested yet.

'No… not now. I'll try it later, in private.'

Instead, he called out another piece from his inventory.

A ripple of shadow rolled across his body as dark leather wrapped over his clothes, sleek and tightly fitted.

[Shadowhide Leather Armor – Rare Rank]

— +25% chance to blend into surrounding darkness

— +10% damage protection against monsters

The armor absorbed the light around him just slightly, muting his presence; his silhouette seemed to fade and return in every breath.

Across the ring, the guard raised one hand. Water droplets in the air vibrated, condensing with unnatural precision until a trident formed out of pure, condensed mana. Its blades shimmered with a liquid sheen, each edge curved like the teeth of a tide.

A low current of blue light spiraled from the weapon into his arms as he spun it once, the motion smooth, deliberate — the mark of long, disciplined training.

Trafalgar blinked once, eyes narrowing. 'A trident!? You've gotta be kidding me—he looks like fucking Poseidon.' He exhaled through his nose, tightening his grip on Maledicta. 'Stay sharp. One slip, and that thing will take my head clean off.'

The faint hum of both weapons filled the air as Nyssara's hand rose, calm and unshaken.

"Begin."

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