"So," Prince Caesar began, his voice brimming with youthful enthusiasm, "every year, the Tournament of Kings is the biggest event in the Argent Kingdom, and really, in the whole world."
"People come from all over," Prince Augustus added, his tone more measured, "from the Roman Nation, the United States of Britain, even the distant empires of Neo Japan, and Neo China. It's a celebration of skill, strength, and of humanity."
Elle's gaze drifted across the grand hallway, her eyes lingering on the intricate mosaics and exquisite sculptures of gods, emperors, and historical figures. Her attention snagged on a bust of Alexander the Great, a near-perfect replica of the one her father kept in his personal chambers in Neo Paris. "It sounds… interesting," she murmured, though her tone held a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
Lucian, sensing her disinterest, smiled faintly. "And what exactly are the rules? Do you utilize skill equalizers?"
"Yes!" Caesar exclaimed. "Father wanted to ensure fairness for everyone. Quantum users employ special keys that limit their powers; augmented humans have their enhancements regulated during matches. All these regulations are based on the profiles of our top fighters."
"So, no one truly showcases their full potential…" Elle observed, a hint of boredom coloring her voice. She gracefully covered a yawn with her hand as Lucian drew her closer, his arm encircling her waist.
"You just want to show off," he whispered, a playful lilt in his voice.
Elle grinned, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "Perhaps."
The princes, accustomed to their parents' affectionate displays, allowed them a moment. "Let's continue, please," Augustus said, stepping forward as the couple rejoined them.
"It's a best-of-two format," Caesar explained. "Each match consists of two rounds. If a fighter wins both, they advance. If it's a split, there's a tiebreaker round."
"The financial investment in this tournament must be considerable, yes?" Lucian inquired.
"We are participating for legitimate reasons, or else Mother wouldn't allow it," Augustus replied.
Lucian's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "It must be challenging to have a devoted mother shielding you from the world's harsh realities."
"We don't complain," Caesar said. "We cherish our mother and care for her well-being and happiness above all else."
"Soren has instilled valuable principles in you," Lucian acknowledged.
"And… well," Caesar continued, "regarding the fighters, there's Kael, a Quantum user of exceptional speed and devastating kicks. Then there's Valkyrie, an augmented warrior of captivating beauty."
"Hmm…" Elle murmured with amusement in her eyes. Lucian chuckled, understanding her thoughts. Men, without exception, were drawn to her, their gazes lingering, their tones softening. All for her beauty. It was curious that these princes exhibited no such behavior. Then she took into consideration that she was always with an intimidating man by her side. It makes sense… he's scaring everybody, she thought, playfully.
"You remain the most beautiful… and distracting," Lucian whispered in her ear, a low rumble, the words hanging in the air, acknowledging her beauty and how his presence kept all the attention at a respectful distance. Elle released a short, playful laugh, the kind that could make a man fall deeply in love, and when her eyes shifted from Lucian back to the princes, she caught their brief, almost comical struggle as they hastily averted their gazes. A faint blush crept up their necks, a subtle testament to her allure and Lucian's unspoken warning.
Prince Augustus cleared his throat. "This year, an Ebony Knight from Neo Switzerland will also compete. I don't recall his name, but he was featured in the news with you in Neo Switzerland."
"Oh, him? Interesting," Lucian said. "What do you think, Elle? I believe the fights will be entertaining. We should watch them."
"I admit it," she replied, "I'm curious about the Ebony Knights. I'd like to see what they can do."
"They are great fighters! And so are we!" Caesar exclaimed, his youthful exuberance barely contained. "You'll see us fighting too! And I assure you, we're not amateurs!"
"Princess Elle has fought on the front lines before, brother. We are amateurs compared to her," Augustus corrected his brother, his tone a gentle rebuke, preventing Caesar from veering into boastfulness.
"And I assume the spectacle will commence with an exhibition match between two Praetorians…" Lucian added, his arm tightening around Elle's waist, drawing her closer to his side, a subtle declaration of possession.
"Monster…" She whispered, almost imperceptibly, a playful glint flickering in her eyes.
"Actually, we believe such an event would be best saved for the finale," Augustus answered, his gaze drifting to one of the many statues lining the hallway, a marble figure of a stoic Roman general. "Father believes that announcing an additional fight between two true Praetorians after the champion is crowned would electrify the crowd."
Caesar smiled, a flash of his father's confident grin. "Father is very excited for the exhibition match. It's a rare opportunity for him to demonstrate his true strength. It will be a highlight of the tournament."
"I'm not so certain," Elle said softly, her eyes finally breaking contact with Lucian's, concern clouding her gaze. "It sounds… intense."
"Don't worry," Caesar reassured her, earnest. "Father wouldn't allow any harm to come to anyone. He's simply eager to face a worthy opponent."
Lucian chuckled. "I'm not sure what stories your father has told you, but I'm a Wolf Mars Class Praetorian, and he's a Lion Janus Class. Back in the day, his class was superior."
"Father mentioned that the Wolf Mars Praetorians were responsible for the highest number of New God kills," Augustus pointed out, with a respectful awe. "Even him hasn't killed a New God unlike you did, Lord Lucian."
"He should have also told you that we were the vanguard, we had to add up with our numbers, so it made sense that one of us would deliver the final blow, even more when our doctrine was to die for it if needed and—" Lucian continued, his voice taking on a distant, haunted tone. Elle sensed the familiar descent into the vastness of his past fights.
"Stop it." She said, her grip tightening on his arm, her voice firm, and yet a plea. Lucian looked at her, annoyance momentarily clouding his eyes, but her stern gaze, painted with concern, softened him. He sighed, letting the past behind.
"Nevermind," he muttered, closing his eyes a second. "Tell me more about the tournament. I understand participants must defeat district champions to qualify." Lucian asked, his voice regaining its composure as Elle pulled his face down to kiss his cheek, again.
Augustus nodded, his gaze lingering on Lucian for a moment before returning to the conversation. "Yes, it's a requirement. Kael, Valkyrie, and the Ebony Knight defeated district champions, as did we. But the other three participants couldn't, so tomorrow we'll have three district champions joining the tournament. They're skilled fighters, the people's champions. Two are from the northern districts, one from the western. I find them disagreeable, but they're formidable."
As they continued down the hallway, Elle and Lucian exchanged a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the complex web of power, skill, history, and financial investment that the tournament represented.
"Tomorrow, we'll have four fights, followed by the semifinals two days later, and the grand finale three days after that," Caesar said with anticipation. "It will be an exciting week. Please don't hesitate to request our assistance if you require anything. We'd be delighted to escort you around the city."
"Thank you, Majesties," Lucian said, formal.
"Thank you, Majesties," Elle echoed, soft.
"Here are your chambers," Caesar announced, gesturing to a pair of ornate, double doors. "We'll let you settle in. The tournament starts tomorrow. We'll see you then."
The princes bowed and left, their footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving Lucian and Elle to enter their chambers.
"Well," Elle said, turning to Lucian, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "it sounds intriguing after all, and we have the entire week to enjoy ourselves! I want to explore everything! Clothing, footwear, jewelry! Food! Does Soren have any secret recipes, perhaps something like ice cream?"
"Possibly," Lucian replied with amusement.
"If you win, you must obtain the recipe," Elle said, her finger tracing a line down his chest. Lucian chuckled, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, the warmth of their breaths mingling.
"My Elle… My Elle…" he whispered, a low, tender murmur. "I cannot defeat him… but I will secure your recipe if that is your desire."
She chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "Silly, it's a joke. If he's so formidable, then simply abstain from fighting and remain by my side. I would, however, relish witnessing your true combat prowess."
"How do you think I won your affection? By joking?" he countered with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I gave my all… almost dying. If that is not serious enough for you…"
"You never attempted to harm me, Lucian," she said, her voice softening. "I wish to witness your full strength." Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, excitement dancing within them.
"Does the prospect of my violence arouse you, my princess?" Lucian whispered, his tone dangerous.
"Perhaps," Elle replied, mischievous, pushing him away as she entered the room, her heels clicking alluringly against the polished marble floor. "Oh! Roman-style baths. I adore them!" She began undressing immediately, her movements fluid and confident, startling Lucian as the ornate doors closed behind him. "Will you join me, Lucian?" Elle asked, extending her hand, her voice a soft invitation. Lucian reached her, their fingers intertwining.
Their shared sigh was profound, an echo of eternity, a release of tension and a reaffirmation of their bond. Elle grinned, her body quivering in his embrace, their hearts racing as one.
"You're a monster… Lucian…" she whispered, husky with emotion. "You make me feel so… exquisite. I despise you…"
"Me? You are the little monster here… little minx," he countered, a low rumble against her skin. They had moved to their bed of silk sheets in the Roman-styled bedroom, a gallery of art and beauty surrounding them.
"Without my key, I wouldn't be able to keep pace," she chuckled, her fingers tracing the contours of his body.
"Lies," he replied, eyes filled with playful affection. "You could match me even without a key, little monster."
"You are," she insisted with playful defiance. "Because you make me feel so… incredible, Lucian. I cannot live without this! And I'm serious about it!"
Lucian chuckled, squeezing her gently between his arms, making her release a happy squeal, before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. "Me neither."
As their laughter echoed softly within the opulent chamber, a world away, in the heart of Neo Paris, a different scene unfolded. The air crackled with tension, a palpable uneasiness between the guards, and the very atmosphere felt heavy, on hold, waiting for something: The Emperor's guest.
The doors opened abruptly, the sound of boots echoing across the throne room of Neo Paris, the once symbol of hope and unity, now the possession of the self-proclaimed Emperor Arthur Devereux. Marshal stood at his side, his expression grim as his eyes followed the mysterious figure he himself had summoned for the emperor.
He looked young, his beard was well cared for, his body was strong, the body of a warrior, of a killer in his prime; but his eyes betrayed his appearance because they held a glint of boredom, as if he had found himself in that same position more times than a man could count. This was no young man at all.
The man's eyes, dark and penetrating, seemed to pierce through the very walls of the throne room, creating an unnerving sense of vulnerability, for his hosts. He moved with an unsettling grace, his demeanor suggesting he had entered not a den of dangerous wolves, but a nest of defenseless eggs, ripe for consumption.
"Marshal, sir? I don't want to be that guy, but I think he knows we're all here…" the commander of the secret agents Marshal had set up to protect the emperor whispered into Marshal's earbud. "And I'm not the only one who feels this way…"
Arthur Devereux, rigid, attempted to maintain an air of authority, but a flicker of unease betrayed his facade. "You have come as requested," he said, his voice strained.
"Last known location, weapons, ship, attack patterns, and footage. Give me everything of him, human," the man demanded.
"Human? Aren't you a human as well?" The Emperor asked, confused, concerned, and thoughtful.
"No. I'm no human. We were made to serve mankind, to protect it, even from ourselves," the man said. "And for that, you will tell me everything you know about Lucian the Praetorian, and I will return your daughter to you, safe and healthy."
The silence that followed was thick with the weight of his affirmation.
Finally, Marshal stepped forward, breaking the tension. "Your Majesty, I'm honored to introduce to you, the hunter of Praetorians," he announced, his voice steady despite the unease swirling within him. "This is Viktor Jupiter."