Reborn as the Last van Ambrose

The Imperial Coliseum was grand. Every seat was filled, from the lowest commoner benches to the ornate boxes reserved for nobility. The morning sun glinted off weapons and jewelry alike as the crowd waited for the tournament to begin.

Colorful banners representing the sixteen great houses fluttered from the coliseum’s upper tiers, while vendors weaved through the common sections selling everything from spiced meats to commemorative tokens. The air buzzed with excitement. Bets were being placed, favorites discussed, and the names of notable competitors passed from mouth to ear across the packed arena. For many citizens, this was a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle, a chance to witness greatness and perhaps see history being made.

In the royal box, Empress Alexia sat on a gilded throne, her expression unreadable as she surveyed the arena below. Princess Liona sat beside her, resplendent in royal blue silks that complemented the sapphire hairpin securing her elegant updo. Chancellor Levenhart and Archmage Marcus stood discreetly behind them, while noble houses occupied the surrounding boxes according to their rank and influence.

At precisely midday, trumpets blared, and the crowd fell silent. A official stepped onto the raised platform at the center of the arena, his voice magically amplified to reach every corner of the vast space.

"Citizens of the Celestis Empire! Honored guests! By decree of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Alexia Celestis, the First Imperial Tournament now begins!"

Cheers erupted, echoing off the stone walls before subsiding as the Empress rose from her seat.

"We gather today," Alexia began, her clear voice carrying effortlessly, "to recognize those who embody the strength and skill that has made our Empire great."

She paused, scanning the crowd with practiced precision. "But greatness comes at a price. Excellence demands sacrifice. This tournament offers a prize worthy of emperors. One request, anything within my power to grant, to the victor."

Murmurs rippled through the audience as she continued. "Such a reward demands corresponding risk. Let all who compete understand the risks. There will be no intervention, no mercy for the defeated. Maiming, injury, even death may await the unprepared. Only surrender, leaving the platform, or your death will end a match."

A hushed tension replaced the excited murmurs. The Empress let it build before concluding, "Choose wisely how far you are willing to go for glory. May the worthiest competitor prevail."

She resumed her seat, and the tournament official stepped forward again. "The preliminary rounds begin now! Eastern Arena, Group Seven, first match!" He gestured to one of the four raised platforms situated around the main coliseum floor.

The crowd’s attention shifted to the eastern platform as the official continued, "Verin Terras, heir to House Terras, wielder of three mana hearts, Serene Wind Sword Dao!"

A tall, handsome young man strode confidently onto the platform. At twenty-eight, Verin cut an impressive figure in elegant green robes that billowed slightly with his own wind energy. His left ear was noticeably missing, the scar tissue a permanent reminder of his humiliation twelve years earlier. He raised his saber in salute to the noble boxes, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"And his opponent," the announcer continued, "claiming the name..." he hesitated almost imperceptibly, "Cassius Van Ambrose, practitioner of the Celestial Mist Sword Dao!"

A collective gasp swept through the coliseum. In the royal box.

"What?" Alexia whispered, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Archmage Marcus leaned forward slightly. "We shall soon see, Your Majesty."

On the platform, Verin’s confident expression had hardened into cold fury as he scanned the arena for his opponent. But the eastern platform remained empty save for him.

The announcer cleared his throat awkwardly. "Cassius Van Ambrose to the eastern platform! Final call!"

Silence stretched. Verin’s lips curled into a smirk. "It seems even ghosts know better than to face me," he called loudly enough for those in the front rows to hear, drawing scattered laughter.

Then, almost imperceptibly, mist began to gather on the platform floor. It thickened rapidly, swirling around Verin’s feet and rising to obscure much of the arena. From within the fog came splashing sounds, as if someone were walking through shallow water, though the platform was dry.

The splashes seemed to come from everywhere at once. Behind Verin, then to his left, then his right. The crowd leaned forward, straining to see through the unnatural mist.

In the royal box, Princess Liona felt a sudden chill against her ear, followed by a whispered voice: "That hairpin matches your eyes, princess. I wonder who gave it to you."

She whirled around, heart pounding, but saw only empty air where the voice had been. Her hand flew to the sapphire pin. A gift from Grim on her ninth birthday, one of the few possessions she’d kept from that time.

On the platform, Verin turned in agitated circles, trying to track the source of the sounds. "Show yourself, coward!" he demanded, his sword raised defensively.

"Coward?" came a low voice from behind him. "Interesting accusation from a man who couldn’t honor a simple bet."

Verin spun around to find a figure in white robes standing just beyond his sword’s reach. The hood was drawn up, concealing the wearer’s face in shadows.

"Remember your words, Verin Terras?" the figure continued, his voice carrying across the now-silent coliseum. "’The Terras family always pays its debts. Except when they don’t, apparently."

Verin’s face contorted with rage. "You dare—"

But as he lunged forward, his blade slashed through empty air. The figure had vanished, leaving only swirling mist.

"But then, you always were petty."

Verin pivoted, unleashing a blast of wind energy that momentarily cleared the mist. Revealing nothing but empty space.

And then, as the mist settled again, the white-robed figure appeared at the far end of the platform in the contestant’s starting position, standing perfectly still, hood still concealing his face."

Chancellor Levenhart frowned deeply.. "If this truly is Cassius Van Ambrose, Verin will die today."

In the noble boxes, whispers raced like wildfire. Lianna leaned forward in her seat, her expression a mixture of shock and calculation. Near her, Max and Mira Luminaris watched with identical intense expressions, their fingers unconsciously tracing identical patterns against their chair arms.

"The match begins!" the announcer declared, seemingly relieved to return to protocol.fгeewebnovёl.com