he tournament resumed three days later.
It was not the grand spectacle it had been. No longer was it a contest of glory between rival academies. It was a memorial. A promise. A fragile symbol of resilience.
The coliseum's damaged eastern stands had been stabilized — not repaired, but sealed with temporary mage-forged barriers and reinforced with enchanted steel. The crater that had been the arena was now a sacred zone, cordoned off by silver runes and guarded by a permanent detachment of imperial knights. A single stone pillar, carved with the names of the nine who died, rose from its center.
The remaining matches were exhibition only — no official rankings, no championship brackets, no betting pools. Only demonstration bouts, each followed by a moment of silence.
Lucien Ashford returned to the field first.
Not to compete. Not to win.
He stood alone at the center of the arena in full ceremonial armor — white linen beneath gilded plates etched with the sigil of the Goddess. The Sword of Dawn rested lightly in its sheath on his back, its glow subdued but unmistakable.
He did not draw it.
Instead, he knelt before the memorial pillar.
Not to pray — not in the classical sense.
He bowed his head, and for the first time since Ethan had known him, Lucien Ashford wept.
Not for himself.
Not for his glory.
For them.
For the nine.
The crowd watched in silence. Some wept with him. Others bowed their heads. And somewhere in the stands, Ethan watched, arms crossed, throat tight.
That night, the Emperor himself — Marcus von Aurelia — addressed the nation through a broadcast crystal that reached every corner of the empire and beyond.
"Tonight," he said, his voice deeper than usual, "we do not celebrate victory."
He paused. The hologram showed him standing before the same memorial pillar, the names faintly glowing under moonlight.
"We celebrate survival."
He turned slowly, looking directly into the crystal, as if speaking to each individual viewer.
"We do not know how the Demon King knew the seal would fail. We do not know who may still be hiding in our midst. But we know this: when the darkness came, the people of this empire did not look away. They stood together. A princess froze an army of shadow. A scholar bent space to save lives. A healer walked into death's path to bring back the fallen. And a boy — a boy no one thought mattered — saw what was coming and changed the future."
The camera zoomed in on his face.
"We have been given a gift: a chance. A choice. To be afraid — or to be brave."
He raised his hand.
"To those who fought, I say: thank you."
He lowered his hand.
"To those who still fear — rise."
The broadcast ended.
The world listened.
And for the first time in a thousand years, humanity did not wait for its hero to act.
It acted itself.