Nyara guided Eiran's palms to rest on hers, then made him think of weapons his body would be best attuned to. Her body glowed beneath her attire, and she pulled back as a silhouette began to form before them.
A single-edged blade.
"A sword. Good—a simple one!" she said, relief evident in her voice. She had been dreading some complex weapon that would take ages to master.
"I don't have a sword in this house," Eiran complained.
"Don't worry, I have that covered." She smiled, reaching her hand inside her gown. With a pulse of force, she brought out a blade in its sheath.
Eiran stared at her curious. "What's inside that gown?"
"Nothing," she replied. He frowned. "Let me see!" He jumped forward to look under the gown, but she flickered away.
"Please, stop this game!" she said seriously.
"Come on, show me. How can you pull things from your gown? What relic are you using? Is it your ability or a talent object?"
Nyara sighed. "I'll tell you later, but now check the blade. On its sides are the techniques best suited for using it." Making sure he held the blade firmly, she walked away. "I'll bring your Prince Attire. Start practicing."
Eiran's gaze on the blade was intense. Recognising this was—a tool for ending life. He tried to pull it from its sheath but failed. He tried again, still nothing.
Growing serious, he attempted once more, but the blade refused to budge. Then an idea came to him. He used his technique.
Slick!
The blade emerged—a reflective silver edge with intricate sketches inscribed on its flat side. Just looking at it made Eiran's talent pulse as the technique patterns flowed directly into his mind.
Knowledge of how to wield it flooded through his thoughts, and even his muscles and veins seemed to grasp the movements. He was in a trance when Nyara returned from the inner pyramid, her voice raspy with urgency: "Where is your Prince Attire?"
"I don't know," Eiran said casually.
She ran back to double-check, then returned with something in her hands.
"The attire is the badge of who you are. Without it, you're automatically disqualified."
"Oh, okay." Eiran's attention remained on swinging the blade very slowly, careful not to injure his tender skin.
"This is serious," she said. "I only found these small ones!"
Eiran glanced at them—a tunic with cape and shoulder pads, smaller than what a baby could wear, though they appeared to flexible.
"Oh, that's cute. Can they stretch to fit me?"
Nyara felt like crying. She pinched the bridge of her nose before calming down. "These are for toddlers," her voice rising unknowingly. "You're not a toddler. Is someone from your faction trying to sabotage you?"
Without waiting for an answer, she pressed a communicator and spoke through it, complaining about the lack of proper Royal Uniform.
After receiving a response, she looked at Eiran. "Prince Eiran, can you contact your benefactor about this issue? We need it resolved before the fight!"
"Nope. I don't know how," Eiran said casually, his attention still on the sword—far more interesting than some royal clothing.
"You'll be disqualified!" she shrieked.
"Haha!" Eiran giggled like a child. "I didn't ask to be here."
It was then that Nyara realized the boy before her didn't give a damn about any of this.
She moved quickly, checking if there was any way to contact the benefactor, but found none.
"Can you tell me who brought you here?"
"Dr. Gerard," he said.
"Dr. Gerard? Who is that?"
"How would I know!" Eiran giggled as his movements grew faster by the moment.
"I'll lose everything!" Nyara realized. "I need to do something about this!"
---
The competition would start slowly but pick up speed as it reached higher stages, until contestants began competing with those who had already established themselves.
The small palace had one underground door leading through tunnels to a large underground cave—a colosseum, a place of training and challenges.
Eiran walked ahead, his chamberlain following behind with a pale face and red eyes from crying and stress.
From time to time she sighed deeply. Eiran would look back and giggle, refusing to focus his mental energy on grasping her situation, deeming it unimportant.
In fact, to him it was hilarious. Why would pieces of clothing determine an outcome? It sounded silly.
He looked down at himself—he wouldn't deny the garments were good quality and impressive. He liked them.
Royal Uniforms were made of white fabric of the highest grade. Three layered shirts whose individual meanings he didn't understand, but the top one had thick weaving in complex designs that pleased the eye.
The two inner layers were tucked inside his trousers, which had a belt with a large buckle—a device, Nyara had said, though she hadn't elaborated.
His trousers were also tucked into his boots, which were white with metal clasps. They looked heavy but felt very light, well-adjusted to one's capabilities, as Nyara had explained.
He also wore a cape attached to shoulder guards—a device to make the cape less cumbersome, as Nyara had put it.
The belt automatically provided a holster for his beloved sword, which he had grown fond of in the last five hours.
He reached an opening and Nyara stopped him. "Are you confident?" she asked.
"Yep."
She sighed. "Prince Eiran, be careful. You don't really need to win the rounds to qualify. As a healer, people can understand your weaknesses."
"Alright." He turned confidently and headed into the open. "I'm hungry. Please prepare something."
She bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."
Light blinded his eyes as he entered a sand-covered arena. On the tall walls were rows of seats filled to the brim with spectators.
However, at important locations far in front, figures sat on tall, high chairs with calm expressions, their sharp gazes fixed on the new addition.
Eiran had never experienced this level of scrutiny. It felt like multiple fingers poking him simultaneously—irritating, though he didn't sense danger in it.
"Welcome, our new candidate: Prince Eiran Thorne. Talent related to healing, and confirmed by his chamberlain to be a Paladin."
Murmurs spread among the onlookers. Princesses leaned forward to observe the so-called Paladin—a newly discovered category and rare talent.
"He looks too young," a voice said.
"His walking is casual. Either an absolute master or someone without training!"
'Does walking indicate mastery?' Eiran thought. He could hear every murmur but didn't care as he looked around.
None of the Princes spoke, though. He wanted to hear their voices.
"Whether you're a healer or not, you need to be physically strong," another voice commented.
Bam!
Eiran startled as a cage fell from the sky and slammed into the sand below.
"Prince Eiran, prove your strength by killing the beast before you. Mind you, it's close to becoming an Annihilator Beast."
Eiran's heart skipped a beat as the cage steel bar walls began falling away, revealing a creature still chained inside.
'This is a beast!' Apart from humans, he had never seen anything else—not even a mosquito or rat. But he had heard about them and seen pictures at the orphanage.
From his frame of reference, its body was reptilian, like a crocodile, but it stood on four powerful limbs like a tiger, its tail spiked and coiled with menace.
"It's ugly!" Eiran said.
"Draw your sword and the beast will be released!"
As if understanding, the beast lunged forward, but the chain pulled it back. It growled and tried to snap the chain but failed. Its violent struggle caused it to harm its neck where the chain held firm.
"We're releasing it now." The chain snapped open.
Roar!
Red eyes turned and lunged at Eiran. The beast moved fast, covering the distance in moments.
Eiran was unflinching and his thought were unreasonable and he just watch.
Saliva splashed around, tongue lashing, and then it came to a halt, sliding until its face softly landed on Eiran's boot, smearing saliva across the white leather boots. The beast closed its eyes and breathed peacefully, sleeping.
Eiran's gaze never wavered. He bent and touched the location of its neck wound. The area began healing rapidly, and a tremor passed through the beast. Its tail wagged slowly before it calmed again.
'Something has been causing it pain from inside,' Eiran thought. He didn't have Blood Creation, but he had Blood Control, so he felt the creature's interior through its blood.
It looked normal from external observation, but his intuition told him something beyond his reach lurked within.
'I only have two CBE left. I can't use one on him to learn more.'
Eiran had possessed 5 Celestial Blood Essence when he arrived, but he had used one on the dead woman, one on Nyara, and one on Bloom.
But he wasn't out of options. Eiran began rejuvenating the beast's blood, which granted him Blood Read—a passive skill allowing him to understand what emotions resided within a body.
The creature growled in pleasure and its demeanor began to shift, its entire evolution seeming affected.
Eiran recoiled as something snarled at him from within the blood.