Chapter 3: The Public Desecration
This solves the storyline continuity issue, keeping Lyra as a senior student choosing her designated partner/sovereign for the ceremonial arena matches while avoiding any mention of midterms or year-level exams.
The morning sun bled through the arched stained-glass windows of the Royal Academy’s grand courtyard, casting long, crimson shafts of light across the white marble floor. Despite the bright dawn, the air was heavy with the nervous energy of hundreds of nobility and military elite gathered for the annual Autumn Sovereign Exhibition.
Students in pristine white and blue ceremonial tunics clustered in tight groups around the central dueling arena, their voices buzzing in excitement. At the center of the crowd stood Lucas, looking every bit the divine chosen hero of prophecy. His sacred holy sword, Aurelius, hung at his hip, its golden crossguard pulsing with a warm radiance. His bright golden hair caught the sunlight, making him look like a walking portrait of righteous virtue.
He was holding court, surrounded by admiring noblemen and aspiring young knights. He laughed at a minor noble’s joke, waving his hand with casual, effortless arrogance.
I watched him from the shadows of the upper spectating balcony, taking a slow sip from a crystal glass of deep red wine.
In the original webnovel Chronicles of Light, this was the day Lucas solidified his status as the unchallenged prodigy of the Academy. He was supposed to publicly claim his heroines here during the exhibition pairings. First, he would invite Lady Lyra to duel at his side, showcasing her icy perfection as his right hand. Then, he would parade his shadowed protector, Aria, like a loyal hunting dog, proving his absolute dominion over both light and darkness.
How utterly pathetic.
I leaned against the stone balustrade, unbuttoning the dark velvet collar of my coat to breathe in the crisp morning air. The subtle mark on my chest the faint, lingering trace of Lyra’s frost magic from the night before tingled pleasantly against my skin, reminding me of her absolute surrender.
A whisper of cold wind rustled the dark curtains behind me. The scent of night-blooming jasmine, crushed berries, and the sharp, metallic tang of dark steel filled the shadowed alcove.
"You’re standing out in the open, Lord Vance," a low, velvety voice purred directly against the back of my neck. "A dangerous habit for a man with so many enemies."
I didn’t turn around, nor did I flinch.
A second later, a cold, delicate blade pressed lightly against the side of my throat. The razor-sharp edge of an assassin’s dagger rested right over my throbbing pulse.
Aria.
She stood behind me, her form-fitting midnight-black leather armor accentuating every curve of her body. But unlike before, her lethal aura lacked any real malice toward me. Her body was flush against my back, radiating an intense heat her demon blood still humming with the dark mana I had fed her hours prior.
"You shouldn’t sneak up on your master, Aria," I murmured, my voice smooth and devoid of fear. I took another slow sip of my wine, the cool glass steady in my grip. "Especially when you still carry the scent of my bedchambers."
The blade against my throat stilled. A low, breathy gasp escaped her lips, her daggers trembling slightly against my skin.
Slowly, she withdrew the weapons, sliding them back into the hidden leather sheaths strapped tight against her thighs. She stepped into the dim light of the alcove, her dark purple hair falling in wild, wavy layers around her pale face. Her golden eyes slanted and glowing with raw, demonic mana flickered with intense dark obsession and absolute submission.
"He sent me to spy on you again," she whispered, stepping closer until her chest pressed firmly against my arm. "Lucas asked why you haven’t been seen all morning. He thinks you’re cowering in fear of the exhibition."
"And what did my shadow tell him?" I asked, turning around slowly to face her completely.
I stepped directly into her personal space, trapping her between my body and the cold stone balustrade. Aria let out a small, helpless sound as I reached out, my fingers wrapping firmly around her delicate throat, tilting her chin up. I slid my free hand down her side, my fingers digging into the soft curve of her waist through her leather armor, pulling her flush against my lower body.
"I told him... nothing," Aria rasped, her eyes widening as my dark mana flared, bleeding through my fingertips directly into her skin. Her hands flew up to grab my wrist, but instead of pulling away, her fingers dug into my flesh, holding me close as a shuddering moan escaped her parted lips. "I told him you were preparing your grave... while I prayed for his downfall..."
"Good girl," I purred, leaning down to press my lips against the sensitive crook of her neck, taking a firm, lingering bite over her pulse point.
Aria arched her back sharply, her fingers tangling frantically in my dark hair as her knees buckled. She clung to me like a starving creature, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches as my dark mana flooded her system, making her thighs tremble against mine.
"Now go," I commanded against her warm skin, my hand sliding down to squeeze her hip with possessive force. "Take your place in the shadows. Watch how a real ruler handles a false hero."
"Yes... Master..." she whimpered, her golden eyes dark and completely consumed before she melted back into the shadows of the alcove.
Below us, a sudden, booming trumpet sounded from the main arena ring, signaling the official start of the exhibition pairing ceremony.
"Lady Lyra von Frostguard!"
Lucas’s booming, righteous voice echoed across the cobblestones as he stepped forward into the center of the main arena ring, a confident, dazzling smile plastered across his face. He drew his sword halfway from its sheath, letting its holy golden light bathe the entire courtyard in a blinding glow.
The crowd fell silent as the hero extended his hand toward the northern entrance, where Lyra was slowly walking into the arena.
"I heard about the dark forces threatening your family’s estate last night!" Lucas declared loudly, his voice filled with heroic drama meant for the spectating nobles. "Thank goodness you are safe! Step into the ring beside me, Lyra! Together, my divine light and your icy perfection will break every record in this Academy!"
The surrounding crowd gasped in awe. The noble ladies swooned, and the young knights cheered. It was the absolute peak of the protagonist’s scripted glory. Lucas stood there, hand extended, radiating pure confidence, completely expecting the Ice Princess to take her place as his loyal consort.
Lyra stopped in the middle of the courtyard.
She wore her dark, frost-forged armor, her long silver hair tied back, looking like an absolute goddess of war. Her swollen, bitten lips still red from our intimate night together were set in a hard, impassive line.
She didn’t look at Lucas’s outstretched hand. Her cold, ice-blue eyes swept past him entirely, scanning the spectating balconies until they locked directly onto me.
A subtle, wicked, and deeply possessive tilt touched the corner of her lips a silent signal meant only for the man who had brought her to her knees in the dark.
Slowly, deliberately, Lyra turned her back on the Hero of Light.
She walked straight past the main arena ring, her heavy steel boots clicking sharply against the marble, until she stood directly beneath my balcony. She looked up at me, placing her hand softly over her heart, right over the dark signet ring I had given her.
"I have already chosen my lord for the exhibition matches," Lyra’s voice carried effortlessly across the silent, utterly stunned courtyard. "I belong to Lord Victor Vance."
The entire courtyard erupted into absolute, deafening chaos. Whispers spread like wildfire among the nobles.
In the center of the ring, Lucas’s confident smile completely shattered. His outstretched hand froze in mid-air, his face turning a dark, furious, humiliating crimson. His knuckles turned white as he slammed his hand onto the hilt of his holy sword, his bright eyes burning with unhinged rage as he glared directly up at me.
Beside me in the shadows, Aria let out a low, breathy, dark chuckle.
She stepped up behind me, sliding her arms around my waist, pressing her soft, warm body completely flush against my back as her hot breath tickled my ear. Her sharp nails slowly traced the line of my belt, her thigh pressing against mine as her body still trembled with the lingering heat of my dark mana.
"Look at him, Master," Aria whispered, her golden eyes glowing with sadistic pleasure as she watched her former hero unravel in public. "He looks like he wants to tear the world apart. And your Ice Princess is waiting for your next command."
I smirked, looking down at the broken, raging "hero" below.
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]
[ Task Progress: Autumn Sovereign Exhibition ]
[ Hero Lucas Status: Publicly Humiliated / Mana Unstable ]
[ Villain Points Earned: +800 ]
[ Target Lyra Loyalty: +15 (Publicly Bound) ]