Emperor's Reckoning



The announcer's jaw dropped slightly as he stared at Lyon, his surprise mirroring that of the astonished crowd. He had expected the demi-human contestants to dominate the competition, and Lyon's unexpected advancement had caught him off guard.

For a moment, the announcer seemed at a loss for words, but he quickly regained his composure and cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have witnessed a remarkable turn of events. Lyon, the human contestant, has proven his mettle and earned his place among the top ten. Let us give him our applause, for his determination and skill have brought him this far!"

His voice rang out, encouraging some polite applause from the audience, though it was clear that Lyon still faced skepticism from many. The announcer's surprise lingered in the air, a testament to the unpredictability of the tournament.

The crowd's murmurs continued to swell, an undercurrent of curiosity and uncertainty passing through them. Many eyes turned toward the king, seeking his reaction to Lyon's unexpected advancement. But the king's silence spoke volumes, and the lack of any words from him only deepened the intrigue.

As the silence hung in the air, the announcer's nervous gulp was audible, a clear indication of the tension that had settled over the arena. It was as if everyone was waiting for the next shoe to drop, for some sign of what was to come. With a determined exhale, the announcer raised his voice once more to signal the beginning of the next round, attempting to move the tournament forward amid the heightened atmosphere.

The defeated contestants began to rise, their expressions painted with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. As they got back on their feet, each one of them shot a pointed glare in Lyon's direction, a collective display of their displeasure at his unexpected success, but the latter was nonchalant as if not even a horde of gods could make him flinch.

Alaric's doubts about Lyon's true identity gradually began to dissipate, although a faint trace of uncertainty still lingered in his mind. The events of the tournament had showcased Lyon's extraordinary capabilities, pushing Alaric to reconsider any lingering suspicions.

Sylas clapped twice. "What you did is incredible, you are the first human to pass the first round, proud you must be. However, sadly, the next round is my turf, or should I say the elves."

Sylas summoned a bow with his intent. He grabbed it and placed an arrow as he taut in Lyon's direction. He smirked before the arrow was released, barely scratching Lyon's hair and leaving it fluttering. Zipping through the air the arrow went straight to the bullseye.

However, a different sentiment was directed towards Lyon, with some in the crowd using the opportunity to belittle him, suggesting that this round would be his downfall. The taunts and insults reverberated in the air, creating a hostile atmosphere.

"This is your last round! At least gave us a good laugh!"

"Humans are no match against elves in archery!"

"Remember this day!"

Lyon kept his poise as he turned around. His eyes were aloof, seeing the target was a standstill. A prey begging to be hit, he shook his head with a smile. "A plain old target, how disappointing at this level of grandeur."

  "Ladies and gentlemen, for the second round of the Felidora Tournament, we will test the contestants' accuracy and precision with the bow and arrow. Each contestant will have one shot to hit the target. The closer the arrow lands to the center, the higher the points they will receive. However, in the case of a tie, the faster archer wins."

"Line up!" a regal voice exuded from the crowd. The king himself stood with his hand extended forward. "I will give the signal, and when I say fire, you will fire the arrow."

The staff meticulously distributed bows and arrows to each contestant, ensuring a level playing field for the archery competition. The contestants received their weapons with various expressions, ranging from determination to anxiety. Among them, Lyon was the last in line to receive his bow, and the staff's displeased expression did not go unnoticed.

As Lyon extended his hand to accept the bow and the arrow, a subtle hint of a smirk played at the corners of his lips. He held the staff's gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and confidence. With a nod of gratitude, he murmured his thanks, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of challenge.

The staff's expression seemed to waver for a moment, caught off guard by Lyon's unexpected response. The air was charged with an unspoken tension, a silent exchange of defiance and determination between the two. Lyon's demeanor, far from being affected by the staff's disapproval, conveyed a sense of assurance that left a lingering impression.

Amidst the bustling atmosphere of the tournament grounds, this brief interaction stood out like a spark in the darkness. Lyon's self-assured response hinted at a depth of character that transcended mere appearances, leaving those who witnessed it to wonder about the enigmatic young man who seemed to possess more than met the eye.

Sylas let out a faint clicking sound of his tongue, a mixture of amusement and skepticism, as he observed Lyon's departing figure. His head shook subtly, his expression hinting at his certainty that Lyon's performance in this round would likely be subpar. Turning to Alaric and Linnea, who stood nearby, he couldn't resist the urge to voice his doubts.

"You know," Sylas began, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "I'm seriously considering making a bet. What do you both say? Do you think our mysterious friend will manage to prove us wrong?"

Alaric, standing at his side, exchanged a glance with Linnea, both of them sharing a knowing smile. Linnea's arms were crossed, her gaze fixed on the archery range, where contestants were preparing for their shots. She seemed contemplative, her expression revealing little about her thoughts on the matter.

"Careful now, Sylas," Alaric replied, his voice carrying a touch of amusement. "That man has an uncanny way of surprising us when we least expect it."

Linnea finally broke her silence, her tone carrying a hint of challenge. "Alright then, what are the terms of this bet?"

Sylas grinned his playful demeanor in full swing. "How about this: if Lyon manages to hit the target dead center, I owe you both a nice dinner. But if he misses entirely, you both owe me the same."

"That bet is not really fair now is it?" asked Alaric.

Sylas shrugged, "It's a bet, You can back off if you want, it's not like lacking one dinner would be a huge thing for me."

"If he hit the center, you owe me two dinners," said Linnea as her gaze remained on Lyon's back like a curiosity of a cat.

"Deal!" Sylas then glanced at Alaric who shook his head.