Chapter 218: Chapter 218 – Two Left in the Circle

The Guardian Council chamber was magnificent, cold, and steeped in history. Walls of black marble rose high, adorned with silver etchings depicting epic battles against legendary monsters. The vaulted ceiling soared three stories high, with stained glass windows casting kaleidoscopic light into the silent room.

At the center, nine high-backed ebony chairs with burgundy velvet upholstery formed an imperfect circle. Each chair bore a unique crest representing its owner—a silver arrow for the Saint Archer, a golden-leafed tree for Eldertree, a radiant heart for the Sacred Healer, and so on.

But today, only seven chairs were occupied. Two stood empty.

One vacancy—the chair bearing the black dragon crest that Black Dragon had occupied for two decades. Its owner now lay dead, beheaded by one of his own.

One seat left empty forever, belonging to the former member who had turned his back on them.

And the seven figures seated in those chairs represented the absolute peak of the world’s Hunter hierarchy. The finest Awakeners humanity had to offer. Each possessed power enough to level an entire city single-handedly.

The Saint Archer—Zephyr, white cloth veiling his face—sat with his back ramrod straight.

Beside him, Eldertree, an old man with a white beard that sprawled like tangled roots, leaned back with his eyes shut as though sleeping, though everyone knew he never missed a single word.

The Sacred Healer—Charlotte Haverty, usually so composed—fidgeted today, her gaze repeatedly drifting to the empty chair once occupied by Black Dragon.

The Demon Slayer, a middle-aged man with burn scars covering half his face, kept his hand perpetually near his sword even during meetings.

The Beast Master, a petite woman with twin grey braids who looked like anyone’s ordinary grandmother but could command thousands of minsters simultaneously.

The Blood Valkyrie, a woman with chestnut-blonde hair woven into a neat braid, her sharp green eyes now narrowing as she checked her watch.

And one empty chair, the one they were waiting for.

The chamber door opened.

All eyes turned toward the sound of heavy hinges groaning softly. Delilah Socheron stepped inside, and for a moment, the cold room seemed to warm slightly at her presence. Her golden-blonde hair was impeccably arranged as always, her elegant white gown shimmering faintly, her face calm and graceful as a goddess descending from a painting.

The Blood Valkyrie narrowed her eyes, then snorted. “You’re late, Star,” she said, her voice sharp and impatient. “This is an emergency session concerning Black Dragon’s murder. His body is still warm, and you… are twenty-five minutes late. What could possibly be important enough to neglect Council business?”

Delilah showed no offense. She walked calmly toward her seat—the only chair bearing a crest of a falling golden star. Her movements were graceful, though she sat with a certain carefulness.

“I had matters to attend to with my son,” Delilah replied flatly, without a trace of apology in her tone.

“With your stepson?” Valkyrie’s brow furrowed. “Adam? What matter could be more important than this?”

Delilah met her gaze with those calm golden eyes. “Family matters, Val. Something you might not understand, given how busy you are hunting monsters that you’ve forgotten to find yourself a partner.”

The Demon Slayer chuckled softly. The Beast Master offered a faint smile. Even Eldertree cracked one eye open, fixing his gaze on the Blood Valkyrie, whose face had flushed crimson.

“Enough,” Zephyr cut in, his voice calm as it sliced through the tension. “We’re not here to discuss each other’s personal affairs. Begin the session.”

Valkyrie snorted again but offered no further protest.

And so the Guardian Council’s meeting regarding Black Dragon’s death commenced.

Thirty minutes later.

The once-tense chamber had grown more animated—the Demon Slayer and Valkyrie were locked in debate over investigative procedures, the Beast Master calmly proposed conspiracy theories involving international criminal syndicates, while Eldertree and the Sacred Healer remained largely silent.

Delilah merely listened, offering occasional brief opinions, but her thoughts… her thoughts remained half-trapped in her kitchen at home.

The meeting eventually adjourned. Each member was assigned different investigative leads. They began filing out one by one, the heavy door opening and closing, leaving the chamber increasingly empty.

Until only two remained.

“Star,” Zephyr’s voice broke the silence. He stood near the massive window overlooking the city, his back straight, yet something in his posture had shifted. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Delilah, who had been straightening her robe, paused. She regarded Zephyr carefully. “What do you need to tell me?”

Zephyr didn’t answer immediately. He walked toward the door the Blood Valkyrie had just exited through, and with a soft motion, it sealed shut with a gentle click. A magical sound rippled outward, ensuring no one could overhear their conversation.

Delilah frowned but remained silent.

Zephyr turned. For a moment, he simply stood there, his tall, mysterious figure illuminated beneath the stained glass windows. Then he spoke. “We’ve known each other a long time, Star. Of all the Guardian Council members, you’re the one I trust most.”

Delilah offered no response, though one eyebrow lifted slightly.

“I need to ask for your help,” Zephyr continued.

“What kind of help?” Delilah’s voice was wary.

Zephyr drew a slow breath. Then, in that same calm voice, he confessed.

“I’m the one who killed Black Dragon.”

The air in the chamber shifted instantly. Delilah froze, her golden eyes widening, her hand pausing mid-motion against her robe.

.

.

.

Outside that silent, secret-laden Guardian Council chamber, the world continued turning. The Aegis Grand Colosseum still thundered with spectators’ cheers, though the atmosphere had grown slightly more somber following the morning’s announcement of Black Dragon’s death.

I sat on Nine Stars’ bench with a flat expression while Instructor Violet stood before me, her face flushed crimson.

“LATE?!” she hissed, fighting to keep her volume in check while clearly furious. “The final round has been running for thirty minutes, Adam! THIRTY MINUTES! And you’re only showing up now?!”

I shrugged. “Family matters.”

“Family matters?” Violet looked ready to explode. “Your family is Nine Stars Academy right now! And you—” She cut herself off, drawing a long breath, visibly attempting to compose herself.

“Never mind. Sit down and wait your turn. Don’t think you’ll be deployed immediately after yesterday’s disgraceful behavior.”

I didn’t argue. I nodded and took the seat she indicated. Beside me, Isabel immediately shifted away the moment I sat down. Her face was pale, and she refused to look at me at all. On my other side, Maximus sat at the bench’s edge with a sour expression, clearly still nursing a grudge.

I ignored them all and focused my attention on the arena.

And in the Guardian Council’s private viewing section—yesterday crowded with imposing figures—only empty chairs remained. Eight luxurious seats bearing each member’s name, and at one of them…

The chair Black Dragon had occupied yesterday now held a simple white wreath. At its center, a small plaque engraved with a name: BLACK DRAGON. With respect, we remember.

The death of a Guardian Council member was clearly no small matter. Of course they were all occupied with investigations and other far more important affairs than watching children fight in an arena. I’d missed the moment of silence held in his memory as well—and honestly, I couldn’t have cared less.

My gaze shifted to the massive scoreboard hovering above the arena.

FINAL ROUND: DUEL OF HONOR

NINE STARS ACADEMY: 5 WINS – 3 LOSSES

DRAKEFIELD ACADEMY: 3 WINS – 5 LOSSES

This final round format had been tradition since the tournament’s inception decades ago. The two teams that survived the first and second rounds would face off in a series of one-on-one duels that determined everything. Each team fielded their ten best fighters, taking turns in rotation.

No point systems. No complex score calculations. Only pure victory or defeat. A fighter who defeated their opponent could choose to remain in the arena and face the next challenger, or temporarily withdraw to be replaced by a teammate.

And every loss was final—no second chances, no rematches. Once a fighter lost, they were out of the tournament entirely.

The battle continued like that, round after round, until every member of one team was completely eliminated. The team with fighters still standing in the arena at the end would be crowned champion.

Simple enough.

Three of Nine Stars’ first fighters—Drake, Ace, and Mason—had already fallen. Violet seemed to have deliberately sent out the weakest ones first, I figured.

Probably so they’d at least get a chance to compete. If Violet had deployed Yukie right away, the rest of us nine might never have fought at all.

Currently, a fierce battle raged in the arena. A silver-haired woman with ice-blue eyes was dominating the fight for Drakefield. Talia Lebrance. Her name flashed on the side display, accompanied by a brief note about her frost blade specialization that had already earned her four consecutive victories.

Her opponent was Kelvin Velnort from Nine Stars—one of the few male students at our academy, specializing in daggers and speed. But from the moment the match began, it was clear he was outmatched.

Talia moved with lethal grace. Each sword stroke left crystalline ice trails in the air, and every time Kelvin tried to close the distance, thin ice walls materialized in his path. Kelvin ran, leaped, tried everything to break through that frozen defense. But Talia was always one step ahead.

And sure enough. In one fluid moment, Talia deflected Kelvin’s dagger strike with the flat of her blade, then in the same motion, swept his legs out from under him. Kelvin lost balance. His dagger flew from his grip, spinning through the air before striking the floor with a sharp clatter.

Talia didn’t waste the opportunity. Her sword swung horizontal, and the freezing tip grazed Kelvin’s arm—not deep, but enough to make blood freeze at the wound’s surface.

Kelvin winced, clutching his injured arm. He tried to rise, but Talia had already aimed her blade’s point directly at his throat.

“You’ve lost,” Talia said, her voice as cold as the ice she commanded.

A siren announced the match’s end. The Host at his dedicated podium immediately roared with enthusiasm:

“KELVIN VELNORT OF NINE STARS ACADEMY HAS BEEN DEFEATED! A BRILLIANT VICTORY FOR TALIA LEBRANCE OF DRAKEFIELD ACADEMY! HER SWORD TECHNIQUE IS SO PRECISE, SO DEVASTATING! THIS MARKS THE FOURTH TIME DRAKEFIELD HAS BROUGHT DOWN A NINE STARS REPRESENTATIVE! EXTRAORDINARY!”

The colosseum erupted in cheers for Drakefield. Across the arena, the Drakefield team roared in celebration while Talia smiled in satisfaction, pressing her sword flat against her chest in a respectful salute before returning to her ranks.

Violet, seated before us, showed no disappointment whatsoever.

She turned to face us. Her sharp gaze swept across our line, then stopped on one figure.

“Arianna,” she called.

Arianna Blazinger, who had been sitting with tense, impatient posture, immediately straightened her back. Her face lit up, eyes sparkling.

“Finally,” she breathed, rising from her seat with energetic motion. “I thought I’d just be sitting and standing through this entire tournament. So boring.”

She stretched her arms overhead, joints cracking softly. A wide smile graced her pretty face—confident, even slightly arrogant. But after two full rounds on the bench without a single fight, who could blame her?

“ATTENTION! NINE STARS ACADEMY IS DEPLOYING A NEW FIGHTER!” the Host shouted. “ARIANNA BLAZINGER! DAUGHTER OF NINE STARS ACADEMY HEADMASTER OPHELIA BLAZINGER—ALSO A FORMER GUARDIAN COUNCIL MEMBER! THIS WILL BE INTERESTING!”

The spectators’ cheering jumped several octaves. The Blazinger name still carried enormous weight, even after Ophelia’s resignation.

Arianna stepped into the arena gracefully, her fiery red hair billowing in the wind. She took her position, hands on her hips, awaiting her opponent.

On the Drakefield bench, a brief discussion was visible. Talia had just fought, though not exhaustively, but they seemed to have decided against taking risks.

The small figure in dark robes rose. Isaac Moonfall.

The Host immediately seized the moment.

“OH! DRAKEFIELD IS WITHDRAWING TALIA LEBRANCE AND DEPLOYING… ISAAC MOONFALL! DRAKEFIELD ACADEMY’S TOP STUDENT! THIS IS THE CLASH EVERYONE HAS BEEN WAITING FOR! ARIANNA BLAZINGER, THE HEADMASTER’S DAUGHTER, VERSUS ISAAC MOONFALL, THE DEATHLY SHADOW OF DRAKEFIELD!”

In the arena, Isaac Moonfall had already taken his stance. His small, slender frame seemed no match for Arianna’s taller, athletic build. But the aura he projected was different—calm, lethal, like a serpent poised to strike.

Arianna smiled broadly. “Finally, a worthy opponent.”

Isaac said nothing. He simply waited, his hands concealed beneath his robe.

The referee raised his hand.

“THE MATCH… BEGINS!”

And like lightning, Isaac vanished.

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