Talesa was stunned.

Stunned with anger—almost laughing.

What was Hale saying? How could he utter, “Just surrender”?

What did he mean?

*Sigh…*

His tone?

Suddenly, Talesa sensed something was off.

Hale was speaking in Katerin Intelligence’s coded language—only their agents could decipher it.

A subtle knuckle crack, layered with a mundane spell for encryption.

To outsiders, he merely stretched his muscles.

To her, it unveiled a hidden message.

How did this guy know Katerin’s secret code?

Telling *her* to surrender?

What was going on with this young master of House Faxius?

Marquis Chekhov also felt uneasy.

The arena’s barrier blocked magical resonance. From afar, he only caught faint knuckle cracks—unclear, distant.

But Talesa’s expression? Crystal clear.

*What did Hale do?*

Anyone watching her face wondered the same.

Siman stood frozen. Watching Hale step up for her, emotions swirled—bitter, sweet, tangled. She had no words.

Only a faint whisper in her heart:

*Something… has returned.*

…

Hale observed Talesa’s face, certain his coded signal landed perfectly.

He had to say it.

He couldn’t let Talesa defeat Siman. Best outcome? He wins Round Two.

Beating Talesa openly? Uncertain.

If she’d already undergone the Eternal Winter Awakening—swordsmanship talent [A+]—his [S] or [S+] talent surpassed hers, but his current level and stats might fall short.

Unless he replicated the move that defeated Ye Wangxue.

But that move turned his blade black. In-game lore: black = Demon God’s color.

Implied: traces of the Demon God’s power.

In certain routes, he’d inherit the Demon God’s sword system—Blackblade—become the final boss blocking the heroine’s quest.

Using Demon God power publicly at Sanctum University?

He wanted to live past tomorrow.

Since the plot demanded chaos… might as well probe the Empress of Katerin’s true intent.

Negotiate with Talesa via code.

“Won’t you surrender?”

He sent the coded message again.

Talesa shot him a sharp glare.

Truth was, Talesa rarely felt emotion. A tool. The Empress commanded; she obeyed.

What anger could a target provoke? Kill or spare—that was all.

“You mean?” she replied in code.

“Literal. Surrender. I know your mission. I won’t interfere.”

“You know my mission?”

Talesa hesitated.

Hale using Katerin Intelligence’s exclusive code? Either he was legit… or bluffing.

If he held back deliberately, she’d learn nothing.

“Hmph. If you stand aside, I’ll crush Siman. Your Papal Dominion loses face.”

Talesa refused to be controlled.

Hale’s coded reply came light, dismissive:

“What’s the Papal Dominion’s loss to me, Hale?”

“You—!”

She couldn’t grasp it. Loyalty to the Empress was everything. National honor, non-negotiable.

She’d die for it.

Yet Hale… willingly threw the match?

“Inconceivable. As a duke’s son, you dismiss state affairs?”

“State affairs? It’s a swordsmanship exhibition. You talk like the Papal Dominion’s ceding land to Katerin.”

Talesa fell silent.

…He had a point.

Lose a hundred matches? The Papal Dominion remains the Western Continent’s strongest.

“But… you…”

“Surrender. Refuse, and you’ll never know my true strength.”

Hale repeated it.

A phrase, repeated with reason, starts to sink in.

Talesa wavered. Victory mattered—first Katerin–Papal Dominion exchange in twenty years.

But the Empress’s mission came first.

Her plan to achieve both? Shattered by Hale. Only one path remained.

Choose.

“Choose, Marchioness Talesa,” Hale signaled.

Then he stood at the platform’s edge, eyes closed, resting.

Siman stared. *What is he doing?!* At this range? With Talesa’s explosive power that felled young master Andry—she could end him in a blink!

Letitia’s heart hammered with worry.

Christine? Intrigued. She’d guessed something passed between them.

*This man… truly fascinating.* Her curiosity deepened.

Reporters erupted. *Hale’s risking it all!* Shutters clicked—capturing his calm face, her turmoil.

This photo + crafted caption = tomorrow’s headline.

…

Seconds ticked.

Talesa didn’t strike. Hale didn’t move. Pure slack.

Tension had coiled the crowd… then unraveled into confusion.

*What are they doing?*

Talesa wrestled internally. Public surrender? Unthinkable.

She met Hale’s gaze. After a long silence:

“Then defeat me. I won’t lose… disgracefully.”

“Fine.”

Hale drew his practice longsword. Settled into a standard stance.

All eyes locked on them.

Steel met steel—but without the force that crushed Andry.

After a dozen flashy clashes…

Talesa yielded.

Voice weary: “I lose.”

Vice Principal Reed blinked. Unexpected—but a win for Sanctum University was a win.

After a pause:

“Hall Fasius is victorious!”

…

Amid shutter clicks and applause,

Siman’s expression in the crowd stayed deeply complex.

She knew.

Nothing here was simple.