Charles strode through the clan's hallways with firm but slightly unsteady steps.
Rian's memories of this place were hazy. He'd taken several wrong turns, running into stone walls and servants who shot him contemptuous looks, until he finally reached a carved double wooden door.
'This has to be it,' Charles thought, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.
Lira's room unfolded before him. It was spacious, with the floor covered in woven rugs and a large bed in one corner, draped with fine fabric curtains.
A polished wooden table was cluttered with scrolls and items that screamed high status.
But what made Charles freeze in the doorway was a flat-screen TV taking up an entire wall.
'What the hell?' Charles thought, blinking in disbelief. 'A TV? Seriously?'
For a second, his mind raced.
Was this a modern world masquerading as fantasy?
This was completely shattering his immersion!
Before Charles could process it, Lira looked up from an armchair where she sat, holding a remote control.
With a sharp click, she turned off the TV, the screen going black. Her blue eyes locked onto him.
"About time you showed up, Rian…" Lira said, setting the remote on the table with a casual flick. "Starting tomorrow, your tasks will be simple. There are crops in the east wing's gardens. You'll water them, keep pests away, and make sure they grow properly. It's not hard, even for someone like you."
Charles frowned, confused.
"Crops? What's that got to do with my fight today?" he asked, stepping into the room.
Lira raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
"Fight?" she repeated, her tone dry and mocking. "You actually think you're going to fight?"
She leaned back in the armchair, crossing her arms as if waiting for a ridiculous explanation.
"Yeah," Charles said, nodding firmly. "I'm fighting. That's my choice."
Lira stared at him for a second before letting out a long sigh.
"How stubborn…" she muttered, standing with an elegant motion. She grabbed a parchment from the table and began reading aloud, her voice cold and monotone.
"Your first opponent: Darion Veth. He's been controlling air since childhood. Trained by various masters for years. He's coming to our arena to test his skill."
She paused, glancing at Charles for a reaction, but before he could speak, she continued.
"The second: Syris Kael. Similar story, but he controls fire. They say he was mentored by spirits in the southern lands. A prodigy, according to rumors."
Silence filled the room when Lira finished.
Charles stayed quiet, trying to recall what game had characters like these.
The concepts felt vaguely familiar, like something from a fantasy RPG he'd played once, but the details slipped away.
As his mind churned, Lira set the parchment down and looked at him with a hint of pity.
"That's why I'm giving you this chance, Rian," Lira said, her voice softening slightly, though still laced with condescension. "If you become my servant, not many here will mess with you. You just have to stay out of fights."
Charles pressed his lips together.
'So I'd basically still be a slave, just with her as my boss,' he thought, a knot forming in his stomach.
The idea of watering plants and dodging bugs while Lira lorded over him wasn't much different from the miserable life he already had.
Lira seemed to assume she'd convinced him, because she gestured toward the door casually.
"Your new servant clothes will be delivered to your room tonight. You can start tomorrow."
"Wait," Charles said, raising a hand.
Lira stopped, frowning at him.
"What now?" she asked, her patience clearly wearing thin.
"I never said I wasn't fighting," Charles replied, holding her gaze.
Lira blinked, caught off guard, then let out a heavier sigh.
"Rian…" she said, her voice dripping with irritation. "Don't treat this like a joke. Becoming a slave isn't a game. You're a Cole, even if you have no powers. If you lose and get sold… whoever buys you could use you for experiments, or worse, as cannon fodder for some stupid scheme. Listen to me for once and take my offer."
Her voice rose at the end, making it clear she was getting pissed.
Charles looked at her, processing her words.
'Experiments…?' he thought.
It was a grim fate, but not entirely surprising.
This clan seemed cruel to its core. But something about Lira's attitude threw him off.
Why did she seem to care so much?
"Lira," Charles said, using her name directly for the first time, "I want to fight."
Lira stared at him, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged.
Then, with a sharp motion, she slammed the papers onto the table.
"Drop that stupid idea!" she snapped, her voice now openly agitated. "You won't just become a slave—you'll disgrace the Cole name. We don't lose, Rian. We always win or draw. Don't you get it? Even if by some miracle you win or draw the first fight, what about the second? What shape do you think you'll be in after facing Darion? It's impossible to beat Syris with everything I just told you!"
Charles stood still, stunned by her intensity.
'Why's she so worked up?' he thought, feeling an odd pang in his chest.
He inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm.
"I want to try," he said finally, his voice steady despite the pressure.
Lira looked at him like she couldn't believe her ears.
"Try?" she repeated, her tone dropping to a dangerous murmur. "Then I'll have to convince you by force, huh?"
She stepped away from the table with a swift motion, standing just a few paces from him.
"Right here, right now, Rian. We're having a duel. If you win, I'll let you enter those fights. But if you lose, you shut up and become my servant. Got it?"
Charles's jaw dropped.
'Another duel?' he thought, his pulse racing.
He hadn't seen this coming.
Apparently, he wasn't just facing three fights today—now he had to beat the same half-sister who was telling him he couldn't handle two fights in one day.
'This woman's nuts!'