Chapter 125| Old Rivalries, New Faces
Edward’s party arrived at the training facility the following week, and Allen felt the familiar, complicated tension settle over him the moment he spotted his brother’s unmistakable golden armor cutting through the crowd of assembled Hunters, four considerably less flashy retainers trailing in his wake with the practiced deference of people well accustomed to serving Veton family interests.
"Well, well," Edward said, spotting Allen across the training floor and altering his course with obvious, deliberate purpose. "The family disappointment, still playing at Hunter, I see."
"Edward," Allen said evenly, refusing to rise to the familiar bait. "Didn’t expect to see you here."
"Golden Reckoning," Edward said, gesturing toward his own gathered party with theatrical pride. "We intend to remind this considerable tournament exactly what genuine Veton talent looks like, unlike whatever diminished imitation you’ve been passing off as accomplishment."
Myria’s sharp eyes narrowed with immediate, protective focus, though she said nothing, allowing Allen the space to handle his own family’s continued dysfunction.
"I wish you luck," Allen said simply, refusing to grant Edward the satisfaction of visible frustration. "Genuinely. I hope your party performs well."
Something flickered behind Edward’s practiced arrogance at that — confusion, perhaps, at the absence of expected conflict — before he recovered with a dismissive scoff. "Save your empty sentiment," he said. "I don’t need it, and I certainly don’t need your approval."
He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back with something considerably more calculating behind his golden eyes. "Mother sends her regards, by the way. She’s been watching your considerable rise with great interest lately."
The observation settled with unwelcome weight in Allen’s chest, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. "I’m sure she has."
Edward’s departing smirk carried the particular satisfaction of someone who’d successfully planted an unsettling seed, and Allen watched him rejoin his own party with quiet, considered unease.
"That’s not a comforting development," Vivian observed once Edward had moved sufficiently out of earshot. "Susan taking direct interest in your continued growth."
"No," Allen agreed. "It isn’t."
They set the concern aside for the moment, unable to properly address it without more concrete information, and continued their own scheduled training as the facility’s considerable activity continued around them. It was during a brief pause between drills that Allen noticed a striking, silver-haired woman observing their session from a respectful distance, flanked by four equally composed party members whose disciplined bearing spoke immediately to considerable, professional training.
"Seraphina Helion," Myria murmured, recognizing the profile from her earlier research. "Fluxen Shore’s leader."
Seraphina approached once their drill concluded, extending a hand with polished, genuine courtesy. "Hunter Veton," she said, voice carrying the particular, cultivated confidence of someone raised amid considerable wealth and expectation, though her eyes carried genuine, professional respect rather than performative arrogance. "I’ve followed your party’s accomplishments closely. Impressive work, particularly given how recently you entered this profession."
"Thank you," Allen said, genuinely appreciating the sincerity behind the compliment. "Your own party’s reputation precedes you as well."
"We’ve worked considerably hard to earn it," Seraphina said, a faint, proud smile touching her composed features. "Unlike certain other tournament entries who seem to believe reputation alone guarantees advancement." Her gaze flicked briefly, meaningfully, toward Edward’s retreating party, and Allen caught the pointed observation with quiet, appreciative amusement.
"I look forward to facing your party properly, whenever the bracket allows," Allen said.
"As do I," Seraphina said. "Though I should warn you, Hunter Veton — I don’t intend to make that eventual confrontation easy, regardless of my considerable respect for your accomplishments."
"I wouldn’t expect anything less," Allen said, and their exchange concluded with mutual, genuine respect rather than the hostile posturing Edward had offered mere minutes earlier.
The final notable encounter came later that afternoon, when a considerably more understated pair approached — a tall, serious young man whose bearing suggested extensive weapons training, accompanied by a woman whose quiet, watchful stillness immediately caught Vivian’s professional attention.
"Theo Arsweiss," the young man introduced himself, voice carrying quiet, measured confidence. "This is my co-captain, Nadia Sugate."
Nadia said nothing initially, simply studying Allen’s party with the same careful, assessing precision Vivian herself had once brought to every new encounter during her own considerable career.
"The Descenders," Myria said, extending her own hand in polite, professional greeting. "Your team’s tactical profile suggests considerable expertise."
"We don’t waste effort on unnecessary flourish," Theo said simply. "Efficiency wins tournaments. Spectacle simply makes for better broadcast footage."
"A pragmatic philosophy," Vivian observed, studying Nadia with quiet, professional interest. "Though I’d wager considerable skill underlies that pragmatism as well."
Nadia’s mouth curved into the faintest, almost imperceptible smile. "You’d wager correctly," she said, voice carrying quiet, unmistakable confidence. "Though I suspect we’ll have ample opportunity to properly demonstrate that, should our respective parties eventually cross paths in the bracket."
The exchange concluded with the same measured, professional respect that had marked their encounter with Fluxen Shore, and Allen found himself, by the day’s considerable conclusion, holding a far more complete picture of exactly what Fallen Crown would face across the tournament’s coming weeks — Edward’s family-fueled resentment, Fluxen Shore’s polished, considerable discipline, the Descenders’ quiet, lethal efficiency, and Haruki’s genuine, underdog heart, all converging toward a single, considerable prize that would test every ounce of skill and character each competing party actually possessed.
"An interesting field," Myria observed as they made their way back toward their transport, already mentally cataloguing updated strategic considerations. "Considerably more varied than I initially anticipated, in terms of both capability and motivation."
"That’s what makes this genuinely worth doing," Allen said, watching the training facility’s considerable activity continue behind them. "Not just proving our own strength. Testing it against people who’ve earned their place here through equally considerable, if very different, paths."
Everlyn’s hand found his, quiet warmth passing between them. "Whatever happens," she said, "I think this tournament is going to teach all of us something worth learning, regardless of the eventual outcome."
Allen considered her words carefully, the accumulated weight of the day’s encounters settling into place alongside his own growing anticipation, and felt the familiar, steady resolve carry him forward into whatever considerable weeks still waited ahead — weeks that would test not just Fallen Crown’s combat capability, but the very foundation of trust, family, and hard-won purpose they’d spent an entire extraordinary year so carefully building together.
That evening, back at the guild headquarters, Allen found himself turning Edward’s parting comment over one final time before finally, deliberately setting it aside. Susan’s renewed attention meant something, he was certain of that much. But whatever calculation she was quietly making from the shadows of Veton family politics, he refused to let it steal the genuine warmth of everything the day’s other encounters had offered — new rivals worth respecting, and one new friend worth genuinely fighting for.