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“Pipe down, Shraal. Your pity is worthless, especially if it’s your half-hearted attempt at a pick-up line...” Jeminine clicked her tongue and shook her head. “What’s up with your forfeit?”

“Nothing.”

“Coming from you, the trickster among kings?” Chuckling, Jeminine poked fun at Zelsh, “What’s wrong? Are you afraid that he would get killed by accident? What are you up to?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” Zelsh sighed, ignoring her comments while watching Kraz and Oli chat on the arena floor.

“I think he’s done quite well for himself if I’m being honest. Apart from me, Zelsh has managed to get the most people into the second round.”

Looking past Jeminine, Zelsh scoffed, “True. I almost achieved what took you luck and maniacal planning, preventing your representatives from cultivating so they would be best used here and not in the actual qualifier.”

.....

“I’m allowed to lead my people as I wish,” retorted Brak.

“That’s also true. But it doesn’t mean we have to praise you for stunting the growth of young cultivators...” Zelsh shrugged and shook his head. “Also, sorry for your loss, Guadel. Don’t worry. The Rot Region will make sure the prefecture garner’s the praise it deserves.”

“How dare you state such a thing after forfeiting in place of your own representative...”

Zelsh was about to scold Brak some more, but his gaze was pulled elsewhere. In fact, all of the kings ceased speaking and turned their attention to the arena below.

Three figures had leaped from the platform above the kings, landing beside Lady Inka with grace. They assumed their former formation with both assistants standing half a step behind their prefecture lords. And both prefecture lords turned their gazes to the youth still standing in the arena, who immediately stopped chatting.

All contestants bowed their heads in respect while Kraz instantly kowtowed, which Oli did while mirroring the wyrm.

“You may look up.”

Both Oli and Kraz were surprised by the kind tone that Lord Zrand exhibited. They lifted their heads, startled to see the prefecture lord stepping forward.

“I can see that Zelsh has trained exceptional representatives this time around. I’m quite excited to see you in action, Kraz, and I hope that you’ll manage to ascend in time for the competition.”

“Thank you, Lord Zrand.” Briefly kowtowing again, Kraz lowered his large body before again looking at the prefecture lord. “There’s no need for one so powerful to praise me so highly. I’m merely a young cultivator long before my prime.”

“A humble attitude, a great trait that Zelsh could learn from as well...” Zrand chuckled, getting Treeda and their assistants to laugh as well. “I wish you the best of luck. Hopefully, I’ll be seeing you and that Tundra Tiger as prefectural representatives.”

“Thank you!”

“As for him... If was Oliver, right?”

“Yes, Lord Zrand. Thank you for remembering someone as weak as me,” commented Oli, nodding to the prefecture lord. Though Oli’s gaze was confident, he never made direct eye contact.

But Lord Zrand didn’t mind at all, though he did sigh, “It’s too bad we weren’t able to see you fight today... I believe I can speak for all four of us when I say we were anxious to see your match-up.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Lord Zrand, forgive my sudden forfeit.” Zelsh was the first of the kings to enter the arena below. He promptly dropped to one knee as he landed between his son and Oli. “I only felt it fair given the stark difference in cultivation between Oliver and Brak’s nephew. Apart from being a mid-elder, I had the suspicion that Brak’s nephew would ascend like the others of the Scale Region. And a match between a mid-adept and a high-elder isn’t a match at all.”

“That’s very true. Does that mean Oli is indeed a mid-adept, yet you brought him here nonetheless?”

“That’s correct?”

“Then why bring him here?” questioned Zrand, speaking kindly yet firmly.

Nodding, Zelsh reasoned, “Though Oliver isn’t strong enough to fight at this level, he’s able to cultivate faster than even my son. Bringing Oliver here would allow him to see what he’ll be up against and broadens his horizons in preparation for the upcoming tournament.”

“So between your son and Oliver, who would you bet on to become a prefectural representative?”

“Both of them.”

“Hmmm... an intriguing thing to hear...” stroking his chin in thought, Lord Zrand began to walk in a circle around Oli. He was silent for a moment as he scanned over the youth with a weighted gaze. “Anyone can cultivate quickly. How can someone as weak as Oliver manage to become a contender so quickly? Don’t tell me that you’ll be using wasteful resources to–”

“Of course not. I would never do such a thing and have never done so in the past,” claimed Zelsh, still kneeling as he watched Lord Zrand’s every step.

The prefecture lord nodded as he continued to slowly come full circle. Only then did he speak again. “I still feel it a shame that we weren’t able to witness such a candidate today... How about I test him a little, that way we can guarantee no harm will come to him and it won’t interfere with the exhibition.”

“Lord Zrand, I–”

“It will simply be Oliver attacking me. We all know that he’ll never so much as scratch me, so I’ll allow his every attack to land. That should at least offer us a show during this break and appease our interest, no?” Smiling tenderly, Lord Zrand then put out his hand. It was open and held straight up. “Oliver, I would like you to strike my hand with everything you’ve got. One attack for each affinity you possess, as well as one attack boosted by your soul arts.”

“Soul arts?” Brak, now in the arena with the other kings, shared his confusion with a question, “Lord Zrand, what do you mean?”

“Have none of you looked at the strength of Oliver’s soul?” Zrand chuckled, not moving his gaze away from Oli. “He hides his powerful soul more properly than his essence. And its abnormal size adds to my suspicion. The only logical answer for that is training in soul arts since he was young. Right, Zelsh?”