[POV: Alaric Arcwright]
Where the hell is that book?
Alaric Arcwright’s gloved fingers trailed over the spines of countless tomes.
The grand library of the Arcwright estate was a labyrinth of knowledge, filled with records.
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He knew it was here. Somewhere.
His brows furrowed as he scanned through the endless volumes.
Histories of conquests, treaties between rulers, genealogies of noble bloodlines—none of it what he sought.
And then—.
An ancient leather-bound book, its cover faded and edges worn.
[The Cursed Sword]
He turned the cover, and the first page revealed a date.
~[Arcwright Royal Family Year [005]
A record dating back to the very foundation of his bloodline.
His heartbeat quickened as he flipped through the pages, scanning through the archaic script.
Then, as he turned another brittle sheet—
~The Cursed Sword.
It’s image drawn below.
The same sword he had seen Caspian wield during the exam.
His grip on the book tightened, knuckles whitening.
His eyes darted to the text beneath the illustration, absorbing every word.
-----
_Of shadow and sin, it was forged in a time beyond reckoning. No man claims its birth, nor does history name its maker. The blade drinks not just blood, but the echoes of those it slays, whispering their dying thoughts to its wielder._
_He who lifts it shall bear its burden, for the sword is bound not to steel, but to soul._
~Precautions:
~Do not seek the blade where the land lies shattered, where ruins whisper and winds howl without end.
~Within the heart of the collapsed continent, it waits.
~A portal cave exists within the Arcwright estate, leading to the forsaken land. Only humans may tread that cursed soil.
~Yet beware, for those who set foot beyond shall be met with a trial no living man can pass.
---
The words seemed to hum upon the page, an eerie weight settling in Alaric’s chest.
His mind raced.
Why? Why was this sword in Caspian’s hands?
The answer eluded him, but one thing was certain.
He had to know more.
Snapping the book shut, Alaric turned on his heel, urgency burning in his veins.
He stormed out of the library, his destination clear.
The portal cave.
He would find the truth—no matter what awaited him beyond.
_____
[POV : Caspian]
"That was unexpected," Vynesaa muttered, wiping her blade clean after finishing off the injured opponent.
Caspian exhaled sharply, the coppery taste of blood lingering in his mouth as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
The battlefield around them was eerily silent.
’She stole my points.’ Caspian thought.
Suddenly, Vynesaa landed beside him in a blur of movement.
She crouched down, her eyes flickering with something between worry and desperation.
"Caspian... you’re okay, right?" Her voice wavered slightly, breathless, as she scanned him for injuries. Continue your saga on freewebnovel
Her fingers twitched.
Caspian, already uncorking a healing potion, raised an eyebrow at her reaction.
"I’m fine." He downed the liquid in one swift motion, feeling the warmth of restoration spread through his body.
The pain dulled, his thoughts sharpening again.
Vynesaa remained close, too close.
Her gaze lingered on his wounds longer than necessary, her expression intense—almost possessive.
Caspian suppressed a sigh.
This side of her... it was unsettling.
His thoughts drifted momentarily.
Fianna. In the end, this battle was meant to end with one person standing.
No attachments. No exceptions. That was the nature of elimination.
"I met your two friends," Vynesaa suddenly spoke. "Lyrius and Calenthir.... they were asking for forgiveness when I beat them."
Caspian stiffened. "Huh?"
Vynesaa tilted her head, watching his reaction closely. "What’s with that face?"
His mind spun.
Where were Lyrius and Calenthir now?
The battlefield was shrinking rapidly, forcing combatants closer together.
If they were still in the game, they’d have to show up soon.
His eyes flickered to Vynesaa’s arm. A fresh cut marred her pale skin, thin but deep.
"You fought someone?," Caspian asked.
Vynesaa hesitated. Her lips curled slightly, "Actually... yes. Seraphina."
Caspian’s expression darkened. "Seraphina Veyra... "
’So this is still following the novel’s timeline.’
The pieces clicked into place.
Vynesaa, already injured, would soon face Darian. Wounded and shaky, she would lose. But Darian, weakened from their battle, would then be eliminated by Lyrius and Calenthir. And then... Calenthir would fall to Oliver and two others.
That moment would mark the beginning of Lyrius’ ridiculous plot armor.
Caspian exhaled slowly. "It doesn’t matter."
Vynesaa blinked. "What?"
"For now, I need to find Lyrius and Calenthir," he muttered. "If they haven’t been eliminated yet, they’ll surface eventually. Until then..." He glanced at the thinning battlefield. "Laying low might be our best option."
Or, perhaps, ensuring that Lyrius and Calenthir didn’t live long enough to let their story unfold.
______
[POV: Zareth El’Leather]
Zareth leaned forward, eyes locked onto the screen as the live broadcast of the Entrance Exam.
His fingers twitched slightly against the armrest of his chair.
He had expected chaos, bloodshed, and maybe even Caspian’s elimination by now.
But what he saw instead made his brows twitch in disbelief.
On the screen, Vynesaa had just landed near Caspian, her usual sharp and composed demeanor crumbling into something else entirely.
Her knees hit the ground, her lavender eyes wide and frantic as she scanned his injuries.
Her hands trembled as if she had completely forgotten about the fight she had moments ago.
Her lips quivered.
<Caspian… are you okay?>
Zareth’s grip on his chair tightened. "What the hell is she doing?" he muttered.
His heartbeat picked up as he saw the way she hovered near Caspian, her panic bordering on something unsettlingly possessive.
No. No, no, no.
He clenched his jaw.
"It can’t be. Don’t tell me… Don’t tell me YOU of all people, Caspian… or Ed… YOU FUCKER!"
He shot up from his seat, knocking over his drink as the screen continued showing Vynesaa fussing over Caspian like a lover reunited after years apart.
.
[Moments later]
’I know you were cheeky guy Ed’s ’
And then he started crying why there is no girl in his life till now.
---
[POV: Aeloria El’Leather]
Aeloria sat in the grand hall, a glass of fine elven wine in her delicate fingers, watching the broadcast alongside her husband, Elora El’Leather.
She exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I always knew this child had a cheeky side," she murmured as she observed Vynesaa’s behavior on screen.
CRACK.
A sharp sound cut through the air.
Aeloria turned her head just in time to see shards of glass slipping through Elora’s fingers, wine dripping onto the floor.
She blinked. "Babe, what are you doing?"
Elora straightened his posture, shaking off the bits of glass and letting out a deep chuckle. "Nothing."
But his clenched jaw and the barely restrained twitch in his eye told a different story.
Aeloria sighed. "You’re gripping too hard again."
Elora forced a smile, though the underlying tension was impossible to miss. "It’s just… fascinating to see how things unfold."