Even the crowded corridors behind the initial circle of watchers seemed to hold their collective breath. Murmurs surged and spread like wildfire. "Did you see that?" "Tessai…" "That's impossible…" The words were fragments, but the tone was unanimous: awe, fear, and a grudging respect.
Standing beside Sasrir, I caught Kai's gaze. The singer's expression was a mix of amazement and concern, his fingers curling nervously around the hem of his sleeve. Kai had known Sasrir was dangerous, but seeing the skill, the precision, and the near-miraculous timing displayed in such a high-stakes duel made the danger real in a way that words could never capture.
Sasrir, for his part, didn't appear to notice any of it. The shadows clinging to his weapons receded slightly, his breathing steady. The small cut along his forearm had already stopped bleeding and he was nearly done catching his breath, Soul Cores humming faintly beneath his skin. Every motion he had made in that duel had been deliberate, every dodge calculated. In his mind, the fight was already over—any reaction outside of himself was secondary.
Gunlaug finally spoke, his voice low but cutting through the lingering silence. "Impressive." It was one word, but it carried weight, carrying over the awe and tension in the hall. Even the other members of the Host, flanking him, felt the ripple. Tessai's jaw tightened; Tessai's fellow officers shifted uncomfortably. A single word from the Bright Lord could change the balance of power, and he had just acknowledged Sasrir.
Seishan inclined her head fractionally, a rare gesture of approval, while Gemma and Kido exchanged wary glances. Harus remained silent, but the way his hollow eyes lingered on Sasrir suggested that this duel had awakened something in him. The hall was still tense, but the balance of authority had subtly shifted—everyone present now knew that Sasrir was not just a shadow to be feared, but a force that could not be ignored.
The whispers began to rise again, lower at first, then louder, spreading through the corridors: Sasrir had officialyproven himself as one of the strongest Sleepers in the Forgotten Shore, beyond any doubt or speculation.
And, watching it all, I couldn't help but let a small, satisfied grin tug at my lips.
Gunlaug's gaze swept lazily over the throne room, eyes resting on Sasrir just long enough to convey quiet expectation. "Justice has been served," he said, his tone deliberate, almost casual. The words were heavy with authority, but not with finality. He made no move to intervene further. The two Guards trembled at the edge of the circle, their pale faces betraying fear, but Gunlaug's posture indicated their punishment would be minimal—barely more than a slap on the wrist.
Tessai, lying on the floor, blue frost cracking across his massive frame from the duel, lifted his head slightly. His expression twisted into a bitter sneer. "So this is it?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You beat me… and for what? For no result! My two Guards will walk away scot-free, and this—this pathetic display changes nothing!"
The crowd around us tensed, whispers rippling like stormwater. Even the Host shifted, their expressions varying between awe, shock, and apprehension. Gemma's hands clutched the blade hanging from his waist; Kido's brow was furrowed in disbelief; Seishan's smile remained poised but tight; Harus' hollow eyes—finally stirred by Sasrir's presence—glimmered with cautious attention. Gunlaug himself remained immobile, reclining slightly, a faint shadow of amusement emanating from his form as though he had expected this reaction.
And it was expected: if Sasrir had faced the two Guards directly, he could have killed them and then ended the matter, just like Changing Star did in the original novel. But he fought Tessai on their behalf, and so, had no say in how they would be handled afterwards.
But I wouldn't accept that.
Sasrir didn't respond. His shadowy form remained materialized, the scimitar in his right hand steady and gleaming. His eyes flicked to me, dark and calculating, seeking confirmation. I met his gaze and shook my head once, sharply. No hesitation, no words—just the silent order to finish what needed finishing.
Time seemed to stretch, every breath and movement magnified. In one smooth, fluid motion, Sasrir drove the tip of his scimitar down into Tessai's exposed eye, slicing through ice, muscle, and bone with terrifying precision. Even on the ground, the Giant's massive body convulsed in disbelief for a heartbeat before stilling completely. The blue frost shivered and cracked, melting into the floor, leaving him a lifeless, motionless form.
The hall was utterly silent. Tessai's mocking words and threats died on his lips. His chest heaved once before going still, leaving only the echo of his final insult suspended in the air.
In Sasrir's ears, a voice only he could hear announced the reult of his most-recent conquest.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast-Tessai.]
[You have received an Echo.]
Sasrir straightened, shadow curling back around him like a cloak settling into place. His voice, calm and low, cut through the tension like a blade:
"Now," he said, deliberate, measured, "justice has been served."