Chapter 113: Caught in the Act
The suite was quiet by the time they got back.
The media frenzy outside the Hunting Grounds had taken two hours to escape. Reporters had swarmed Team Soup like starving wolves, pushing recording crystals in their faces, screaming questions about the dome, the beast and the Royals. Cassius had tried to spin the narrative live on camera, but the image of a Rank 3 Manticore head rolling to a stop at his feet was hard to explain away.
Renna had loved every second of it. Emric looked like he wanted the ground to open and swallow him. Lyra took care of the reporters easily, using her fancy noble skills to shut down annoying questions instantly.
Now they were back in their suite and Holden needed to be alone.
"Going to shower," he said, moving toward his bedroom.
"You absolutely are not," Maeve said, blocking the hallway with her arms crossed. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She’d watched the entire dome incident through the hacked camera feed, and the static gap where she couldn’t see or hear anything had clearly terrified her. "You are going to sit down and explain to me how a Rank 3 Manticore just—"
"Maeve." He put a hand on her head, gentle but firm. "I’m fine. I promise. I’ll explain everything later, okay? I just need fifteen minutes."
She looked up at him, searching his face for the lie. She didn’t find one.
"Fifteen minutes," she said sharply. "Not sixteen."
"Deal."
He slipped into his bedroom and closed the door.
He sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled up his System Inventory.
The Platinum Chest sat there, glowing softly, waiting.
He tapped it.
[Platinum Chest Opened!]
[Item Received: Solar-Forged Sword (Rank 3 Weapon)]
[Description: Forged in the heart of a collapsed star by unknown hands. The blade absorbs and redistributes kinetic and elemental energy. Exceptionally effective against armored targets.]
Holden whistled low.
A Rank 3 weapon. He’d been using a Rank 2 Star-Forged Sword this whole time, and it had served him well. But this was something else entirely. The kind of weapon that academy instructors carried. The kind that generals commissioned from master smiths.
"Let’s see you," he muttered.
He held out his hand and summoned it from the Inventory.
Blue pixels coalesced in his palm, forming a sword. It was pitch-black, with an edge that glowed red like hot coals. The blade was slightly longer than his Star-Forged Sword, and the weight was different. Heavier in the pommel, lighter at the tip. Built for sweeping strikes.
He gave it an experimental swing.
Swwwwish.
The air split cleanly, meeting zero resistance.
Holden smiled. Then he frowned.
The sword felt sluggish. Not because of the blade itself, but because his energy wasn’t flowing into it properly. Rank 3 weapons required a certain level of power to fully synchronize with their wielder. He was trying to water a redwood tree with a garden hose.
He needed to open the hose.
Holden closed his eyes and dropped his concealment.
His Rank 2, 5-Star aura flooded out of him like a dam breaking. The air in the room turned dense and heavy. The lamp on the desk shook, the window glass buzzed, and the bed frame creaked under an invisible weight.
The black sword drank it in. The crimson edge blazed brighter, and the blade hummed in his grip, finally waking up.
"There we go," Holden whispered, rotating the sword slowly. The energy flowed through the metal like blood through veins. Perfect synchronization. This thing could cut through—
Click.
The door opened.
Holden’s eyes snapped to the doorway.
Lyra stood there, holding a small teacup in both hands. She’d changed out of her tournament gear into a simple white blouse and dark pants.
She looked up.
Her eyes met the blazing crimson edge of the sword. Then they moved to Holden. Then they felt the aura.
CRASH.
The teacup slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.
Lyra staggered. Her free hand shot out and grabbed the doorframe to keep herself upright. The crushing pressure of a Rank 2 master’s full aura hit her like a physical wall. Her knees buckled slightly, then locked. She was tough. A Rank 1, 8-Star fighter. But this was beyond anything she’d ever stood in.
Her wide eyes slowly traveled from the sword to Holden’s face.
Holden dismissed the sword instantly. The Blue pixels scattered. He yanked his aura back so fast the room instantly felt ten times lighter.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Lyra stepped into the room, closed the door behind her, and locked it.
She crossed her arms.
"Lyra—"
"How long?"
Her voice was quiet and controlled. Controlled. But there was a small crack in it, like she was holding onto a secret or a worry that was much bigger than she was letting on.
"How long, Holden?"
He sat back down on the bed. There was no point lying. Not to her. Not after what she’d just walked into.
"A while," he said.
"A while." She repeated the words flatly. "You’ve been hiding a Rank 2 power this entire time, and your answer is ’a while’."
"I know what you’re thinking—"
"You don’t." Her voice cracked, just for a second. "I thought we were past hiding things."
That hit him harder than any punch ever had.
Holden really looked at her. He looked past her noble posture and the calm expression. Her jaw was tight, and she was squeezing her own arms hard enough to leave red spots. Her eyes were watery, and it had nothing to do with the aura pressure.
She wasn’t angry. She was hurt.
"I suspected something," she continued, forcing her voice to stay steady with sheer willpower. "Ever since you saved me from the cold. The way your energy felt when you transferred it to me. It was... different. Deeper than it should have been. But I told myself I was imagining it, because I trusted you."
"I know," he said quietly.
"I kept your secret from Vespera. From my family. From everyone. And I didn’t even know what the secret was." A bitter, broken laugh escaped her lips. "That’s the part that stings the most, Holden. I was loyal to a ghost."
He stood up.
He didn’t use words. He closed the distance between them in two steps and took her hands in his. She tried to pull away, but he held firm, gentle but unyielding.
"I’m sorry," he said.
The words came out raw.
"I’ve spent my whole life hiding, Lyra. Every single day since I was six years old. Hide your strength so the older kids don’t beat you. Hide your food so the gang leaders don’t take it. Hide your sister so the system doesn’t separate you. Hiding wasn’t a choice. It was survival."
His thumbs traced slow circles on the back of her hands.
"And then I met you, and for the first time, I wanted to stop. But I couldn’t flip a switch. The instinct was too deep. I told myself I was protecting you by keeping you in the dark. That if you knew, you’d be in more danger."
"You don’t get to make that decision for me," she whispered.
"You’re right," he said. "I know that now. I was wrong."
Her fingers slowly uncurled. They stopped fighting him and instead laced through his, holding on.
"No more secrets," he said. "I mean it. From this point on, you know everything. Whatever I have, whatever I am, it’s yours too."
Lyra looked up at him. The tears in her eyes turned into a warmer look. She was still hurting, and she looked fragile, but she was starting to soften.
"You better mean that," she said softly.
He leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn’t frantic or desperate. It was slow and deliberate. Her hands tightened around his. She rose on her toes and leaned into him, and for a long moment the room was completely still.
When they separated, she rested her forehead against his chest and let out a long, slow breath.
"You need to tell Emric and Renna too," she murmured against his shirt. "They’re part of this team."
"I will," Holden said. "But not right now."
She tilted her head up, eyebrow raised.
"If they know I’m Rank 2, they’ll fight differently in the ring. They’ll rely on me instead of trusting themselves, and that gets people killed." He paused. "And if word leaks, even accidentally, the Royals will stop playing games and start sending actual assassins instead of rigged domes."
Lyra was quiet for a moment. Then she exhaled through her nose.
"After the tournament," she said. It wasn’t a question.
"After the tournament. I promise."
She pulled back just enough to look at him properly. Then she smiled.
"A few more days of secrets," she said. "I can live with that."
She reached up and straightened his collar with both hands.
"But if you ever dismiss a sword into blue pixels while I’m holding tea again, I’m pouring the next one on your head."