After his unexpected conversation with King Rudolf and the startling awkward exchange with Princess Cilie, Elijah finally made his way to the waiting area where the Constantine team had gathered. The energy was quiet—too quiet.
As he stepped into the room, he could feel it. Frustration. Doubt. Silence. The weight of their recent loss hung over them like a damp cloak.
Drake leaned against the post, arms crossed, his brow furrowed. Ayn sat in a corner sharpening his dagger absently, not because he needed to, but because he didn't know what else to do. Anna sat beside Sylphira, both quiet, their eyes unfocused. Daud stared at the ground, his fists clenched.
Elijah broke the silence.
"This round meant nothing. What matters is the final one. If we win that, then the title will be ours."
The team looked up, unsure if they should believe it.
But then—Sylphira raised her head.
Her voice was quiet, but firm.
"Elijah… the rule's changed."
Elijah blinked.
"What… what do you mean?"
Sylphira stood slowly, brushing her hair behind her ear, her expression more serious than ever.
"Just after the first round ended, the judge came to us privately and told us they revised the scoring system."
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. As she opened it, she read aloud:
"First place: 50 points.
Second place: 30 points.
Third place: 10 points.
Fourth place: 5 points."
A cold silence fell. Elijah stared at her, the weight of the new information slowly sinking in.
"What…? But that's a huge gap!"
Drake whistled low.
"Fifty to five is a forty-five-point difference. Even if we get first in the final round, it might not be enough depending on who else places where…"
Elijah clenched his fists.
"I didn't expect this. They never mentioned it before."
Ayn frowned.
"Which means either the decision was last-minute… or someone wanted to change the outcome."
Anna nodded.
"It's possible the judges want to rig the competition—subtly. Making it so only one school realistically stands a chance after round one."
Sylphira stepped closer to Elijah, her voice low but cutting.
"They said it was to make the tournament more 'competitive'… but it feels more like they're locking us out."
Elijah's jaw tightened, his mind racing.
"This isn't just about winning anymore. This is politics…"
He turned to the door.
"I need to speak to King Rudolf."
Sylphira blinked.
"Do you think he knows?"
Elijah's voice was flat but determined.
"If he doesn't… he should. And if he does…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
But the fire in his eyes said everything.
Daud stood still, heart pounding. As the others slumped in silence, defeat still fresh in their eyes, he felt something stir deep within him.
A memory.
A voice—echoed in his mind like whispers from another life.
He saw the old woman clearly In his mind, as if she were standing before him once again, untouched by time. The image burned itself into his memory—her hunched form cloaked in layers of faded fabric, the hood drooping low over her face. Yet he could never forget that unsettling smile, stretched too wide, almost inhuman. Her presence alone felt like a crack in his soul, as if time had slowed just for her to speak. She had appeared out of nowhere, emerging from the fog like a phantom, and stood before him with an eerie stillness.
With a hand as pale and wrinkled as withered parchment, she reached out to him. Her fingers trembled slightly, not from age, but from something deeper—something unnatural. Then, in a voice that felt like it had crawled out of a grave, she whispered words that burrowed into his memory:
"Never forget the price."
Those four words, simple yet profound, struck him harder than any weapon ever could. The chill in her voice carried a weight that words alone shouldn't possess. It wasn't just a warning—it was a prophecy, a curse wrapped in silk.
She paused, eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood, before continuing with a message that sent a shiver racing down his spine:
"Every opportunity does not come without cost. What you gain will always demand something in return. Nothing in this world—or beyond—is ever truly free. Remember this: the greater the gift, the greater the sacrifice."
Then, as swiftly as she had appeared, she vanished into the mist, leaving only the echo of her words and the lingering sense that something far beyond his understanding had just marked him.
Now, in this moment, Daud stepped forward. Elijah was about to leave the room, but Daud's hand reached out and gripped his arm.
"Wait."
Elijah turned.
"Thank you. For still believing in us."
Then Daud turned to face his teammates—Ayn, Drake, Anna, Sylphira. He took a deep breath.