"I'm not expected to win, am I?"

I smiled at Seraphina—the Lady of the Broken Grail, as she called herself. I wasn't being arrogant, nor was I doubting myself. I just understood the nature of the test.

"The test was to see what I'd build."

She nodded approvingly. "Correct. Winning was never on the table for you. I'm the third-best Chancellor pilot in the entire intercontinental alliance. My courtesy name is even a reference to it."

I raised an eyebrow.

She leaned forward slightly, a glint of pride in her golden eyes. "The Lady of the Broken Grail. It refers to the fact that I alone am the wall to excellence in Ember's Cup."

I exhaled through my nose, letting out a deep long and slow breath. So that was it. She wasn't just any skilled pilot—she was the gatekeeper to greatness. The one you had to surpass if you ever wanted to be considered the best.

I glanced at Final Manuscript, my newly crafted Chancellor. It was sleek, formed from the scraps of hundreds of parts she had given me, yet uniquely my own. I hadn't had time to test its functions properly. And now I was expected to throw it into battle against one of the greatest pilots in the world.

Hopeless fight.

But that didn't mean I wouldn't fight.

Seraphina smirked. "I like that look in your eyes. You know you're about to get crushed, but you won't roll over."

I met her gaze, my fingers tightening around the whipcord launcher. "I wouldn't be much of a Walker if I did."

She let out a short laugh. "Fair point." Then, with a snap of her fingers, the ash-figures moved.

The five Senate boards hummed with energy as the battlegrounds began forming—gray squares shifting, reshaping into landscapes.

One of the boards cracked apart, a jagged battlefield of floating debris, platforms hovering above a void. Another shifted into a twisting labyrinth, sharp turns and hidden dangers around every corner. The third? A storm-torn field, lightning flashing as gusts of wind ripped across the board.

The final two remained neutral—simple stone arenas, meant for straightforward combat.

Seraphina stretched, rolling her shoulders. "These are our battlefields. Five boards, each representing a different aspect of combat. We'll fight across all of them simultaneously."

I blinked. Five separate fights at once?

She caught my expression and smirked. "You thought this was just one match?"

I exhaled slowly. Of course not. This wasn't just about controlling a Chancellor. It was about multitasking, strategy, and adaptation. The real skill in Ember's Cup wasn't simply moving a Chancellor well—it was managing all the battles at the same time.

Seraphina flicked her wrist. Royal Wedding landed on the center board, one of boards lacking any special terrain, spinning smoothly as if it had always been there. Its edges gleamed, gold and red metal catching the dim light.

She gestured. "Whenever you're ready."

I looked at Final Manuscript. It wasn't optimized yet. I didn't even know its full capabilities. But I had built it. And I never fought a battle I didn't plan to win.

I tightened my grip on the whipcord launcher, lined up my shot, and launched.

The moment our Chancellors collided, the battlefield erupted into a symphony of force, speed, and friction.

I felt everything.

The serrated edges of Royal Wedding bit into Final Manuscript, each clash sending a pulse of strain through my very being. Every motion, every scrape, every grinding impact bored into me—not physically, but deeper, into the fabric of my soul itself.

She was accelerating. I was slowing.

The physics of the battle were clear. I could feel it as well as see it—Final Manuscript spun clockwise, while Royal Wedding spun counter-clockwise. The opposing inertia fed her Chancellor's momentum, making it strike harder with each rotation while sapping mine away.

It wasn't just a battle of strength. It was precision, calculation—Seraphina was playing a long game, one I was already losing.

And the pain—gods, the pain.

It wasn't just the usual strain of combat. Every tiny cube that made up Final Manuscript's edges was shaking, ricocheting against each other in response to Royal Wedding's serrated strikes. The damage wasn't just external—it was reverberating within.

This was what true combat felt like.

I gritted my teeth. Fine. If I was at a disadvantage, then I'd tip the scales myself.

"Lumivis. Possess it."

My voice came out rough, almost feral—something I hadn't intended.

The ancient spirit flickered into existence within my aura. Lumivis—ever the skeptic—hovered before the Chancellor, his form wavering like a dying candle.

He turned to me, his hollow eyes unreadable.

"Sire. This is merely a toy—a tool for you to channel your own mana and skill. It would be…"

Before he could finish, Seraphina's voice cut through the battlefield like a blade.

"Possess it."

Her gaze fixed on him with a sharpness that could shatter steel.

"You are a free spirit. You can inhabit up to a number of objects equal to your contractor's soul level. Do it. You'll be amazed."

Lumivis faltered. His ephemeral form flickered, almost uncertain.

"Sire. Please. This is…"

I shook my head.

"Do it." My voice was steady, unyielding. "I refuse to go down without using everything I can."

A long pause.

Then—Lumivis let out a low, defeated sigh.

He dove into Final Manuscript.

The moment he did, a surge of raw energy erupted across the battlefield.

Notifications flooded my vision.

Your contracted spirit, Lumivis, has bonded to an object: Chancellor, Final Manuscript. Machina: Starborn Finale is unlocked. Machina Level: 1-1 Spirit Level: ???-??? To unlock more abilities, utilize the Machina form in prolonged combat.

The impact was immediate.

Final Manuscript—no, Starborn Finale now—shuddered as its form shifted, altered by the presence of something ancient, something awakened. The once-metallic sheen of the Chancellor dimmed, taking on an ethereal glow, as if pieces of a forgotten night sky had embedded themselves into its surface.

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The edges sharpened, the rotational speed increased, and the energy around it became an extension of my will.

And most importantly—I felt it.

Not just the weight. Not just the strain.

I could truly, completely pilot it.

Seraphina grinned.

"Good." She said, the glint of excitement flashing in her golden eyes. "Now, let's see what you're really made of."

The battle wasn't over.

It had just begun.

***

The moment Starborn Finale took form, my aura expanded outward, wrapping around it like an extension of my own being.

I felt everything.

Every shift of air, every subtle pull of gravity, every infinitesimal adjustment in rotation—it was as if I had been blind before, and now I could see the very fabric of motion itself.

The battle hadn't changed. I had.

The two Chancellors were going to collide again. I could feel it, predict it, know it before it happened.

And I knew that if we did, I would lose.

Seraphina's strategy hadn't changed—she was sapping my momentum with every clash, turning my own force against me. If I met her strike head-on again, I'd be back where I started, slowly ground down into nothing.

So I changed my approach.

Starborn Finale jumped.

It wasn't just a desperate leap. It was calculated, measured.

A perfect vertical launch, angling downward at just the right moment.

The moment I landed, a direct hit—Starborn Finale crushed into Royal Wedding.

My first true collision.

And then, something new—something unexpected.

Starborn Finale… hovered.

It didn't just fall back down. It remained suspended, as if defying gravity itself, as if the weight of the world had no claim over it.

I exhaled. My instincts roared, urging me forward.

If Seraphina could use her Arte…

Why couldn't I use mine?

The air around us shimmered as scraps of glittering paper rained down from Starborn Finale's motion. Seraphina was doing something—I could feel the pulse of her Chancellor Manipulation Arte at work.

But so could I.

I commanded the paper to move.

It obeyed.

The floating pages twisted, folding upon themselves—once, twice, dozens of times over.

They became birds.

Hundreds of tiny paper cranes took flight, spiraling downward in a relentless storm, targeting Royal Wedding.

A flicker of movement.

[Skill: Origami has advanced from Level 2 to Level 3.] [Skill: Machina Operation has advanced from Level 1 to Level 2.]

The decree from Dominus Demeterra flashed in my mind, but I barely registered it.

I had no time for distractions.

This wasn't about winning.

This was about proving I wasn't weak.

I was tired of being tossed around, controlled, treated as a passive player in my own story.

If this was my first chance to claw back my own agency, then I would seize it.

I was a panther hunting the duck.

And I would be relentless.

Starborn Finale dove again, its flock of razor-sharp paper birds following in a chaotic spiral.

Seraphina raised an eyebrow. Not in alarm—in amusement.

Then—Royal Wedding spun faster.

Faster.

Faster than my eyes could track.

A whirl of gold and crimson, its serrated edges carving the very air apart, the sound of friction and force becoming an unrelenting scream.

Then—impact.

Royal Wedding slammed into Starborn Finale with a force I could only describe as absolute.

A freight train. A meteor.

The sheer force ripped Lumivis free from the Chancellor, his spectral form torn from the metal in a violent expulsion.

Final Manuscript fell back into its original form.

The paper birds scattered—no, they disintegrated into useless shards of glittering dust.

The battlefield was silent.

And I—I was heaving, barely able to breathe.

My entire body felt like it had been hit by the blow itself. My limbs trembled. My lungs burned. I felt as if I had been crushed, stomped into the ground, reminded of something undeniable.

I was a child.

I was weak.

I was inexperienced.

This wasn't just a game.

This was a reminder of reality.

I collapsed to one knee, gripping my chest as if I could force air back into my lungs. Every inch of my body ached, but it wasn't physical pain—it was something deeper. Like my soul itself had been battered, like my entire existence had been wrung out, stretched too thin, and left gasping in the heat of the battle.

The Ember's Cup was agony.

It burned. It didn't just hurt—it seared itself into every nerve, into the marrow of my being. Each impact of our Chancellors was a hammer to my soul, a weight pressing down on my will, a force beyond my ability to fully comprehend.

I had fought before. I had suffered wounds before. But this was different.

This was a fight that ignored my body and went straight for my very core.

I could feel it now—why the Ember's Cup was a battlefield that only the truly great could stand upon.

I wasn't truly standing anymore.

I was barely kneeling.

I lost.

I knew it before Seraphina even spoke.

And yet—I wasn't broken.

My hands trembled as I forced them to plant against the ground. I was still breathing, still here despite the weight pressing down on me. Despite the exhaustion. Despite the undeniable difference in power between us.

I had lasted.

"Enough," Seraphina's voice rang through the battlefield, firm but not unkind. Not mocking. Not scornful. Just… final.

I blinked up at her, my mind struggling to catch up, my vision swimming with the remnants of golden light from our clash.

She wasn't pressing the attack.

She was stepping back.

"Let's call a break," she said, crossing her arms, her gaze sharp but not unkind. "You passed my test."

My breath hitched, my body still struggling to process everything.

I stared at her, trying to comprehend those words.

Passed?

I almost laughed, except my ribs felt like they might crack if I did. This didn't feel like passing. It felt like surviving.

"Are you sure?" I rasped, forcing myself to stand. My legs screamed in protest, the backlash of piloting a Chancellor—of fighting in the Ember's Cup—still writhing through me.

Seraphina's lips curled into the faintest of smirks.

"Do you really think I would waste time playing with someone who wasn't worth it?" she asked, tilting her head.

That should have felt like an insult.

But it wasn't.

I exhaled, my mind catching up to what she meant.

She had been testing me. Not just my ability to fight, but my ability to endure.

I swallowed the dryness in my throat. I had so many questions, but the only thing I could manage to say was:

"Then… why stop now?"

Seraphina actually laughed—a low, knowing sound, as if she had expected that answer from me.

"Because you're on the verge of breaking," she said bluntly. "And it's not the kind of break that will make you stronger. It's the kind that will burn you out before you even begin."

I grit my teeth. I hated that she was right.

The Ember's Cup had been brutal, and this had only been a spar.

If I kept pushing past this point—if I shattered completely—I wouldn't learn anything.

And I needed to learn.

Seraphina tilted her head slightly. "You could keep going, I won't stop you. But let me ask you this: Do you think you'll learn anything fighting in that state?"

I clenched my fists, forcing my body to still.

I knew the answer.

"No."

She nodded approvingly. "Then here's my offer: A temporary truce. Until you get your feet under you. You've already proven you're worth my time, so I'd rather fight you when you actually have a shot at making this interesting."

I swallowed.

That wasn't a dismissal. That wasn't pity. That was a challenge.

She wanted me to come back stronger.

She wanted to fight me again when I was more than just a half-baked contender trying to claw his way through the Ember's Cup.

My pride was still smarting, my instincts screaming at me to push forward—but I wasn't a fool.

I took a slow breath. Then another.

Then, finally, I nodded.

"Fine," I said, voice hoarse but steady. "I accept."

Seraphina smirked.

"Good," she said, then turned on her heel. "Rest up, Alexander. The real fights haven't even started yet."

And just like that, she left me standing there, surrounded by the echoes of battle, the weight of the Ember's Cup still burning in my veins.

I exhaled. I wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

My body however? My body disagreed, as I collapsed into the warm feelings of soft ash and grass.

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