The roar of the crowd was a physical force, pressing down on Ethan/Lucian as he parried another blow from Sir Kaelen, a knight renowned for his unwavering loyalty to the crown and his brutal efficiency in the arena. Kaelen’s silver armour gleamed under the afternoon sun, reflecting the bloodlust simmering in the stands. Each clash of steel sent vibrations up Ethan/Lucian’s arm, a painful reminder of the precariousness of his situation. He was playing a part, a dangerous game of calculated aggression, trying to appear the formidable Shadow Duke while simultaneously scanning the crowd for any sign of the conspirators.

He’d already eliminated a few possible candidates. Lord Ashworth, whose face was permanently etched with disdain, proved to be merely a disgruntled noble with a penchant for gambling. Lady Beatrice, known for her sharp tongue and even sharper business acumen, was too busy placing bets to be orchestrating a coup. But someone was here. He could feel it in the air, a subtle shift in the undercurrent of the tournament, a feeling as cold and insidious as the shadows he was named for.

The tournament was designed to be a showcase of strength and skill, a tradition meant to solidify the King’s reign and unite the disparate noble houses. But for Ethan/Lucian, it was a minefield. He knew from his original story that the conspiracy would culminate here, in the heart of the competition, with an attempt on both the King and Aurelia’s lives.

He’d been subtly guiding Aurelia, suggesting she stay close to her father, encouraging the royal guard to maintain a tighter perimeter. She had, much to his surprise, taken his advice, though she still regarded him with a mixture of suspicion and… something else. Something he couldn't quite decipher, a flicker of warmth that ignited whenever their gazes met.

Kaelen lunged again, his sword a blur of silver. Ethan/Lucian dodged, using the momentum to spin behind him, his own blade flashing. He wasn’t trying to win. Not yet. He needed to draw out the enemy, to expose them before they could strike.

As he parried another blow, he caught a glimpse of movement in the King's viewing box. Not the King himself, but General Marcus, his right-hand man, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Marcus, a man whose loyalty had always seemed unwavering, a stalwart defender of the crown. But something about his posture, the intensity of his gaze, made Ethan/Lucian's stomach churn.

He dismissed it. He was being paranoid. Marcus was a hero, a legend. It was impossible.

But the seed of doubt had been planted.

The fight continued, a dance of steel and sweat under the watchful eyes of the court. Ethan/Lucian allowed Kaelen to gain the upper hand, feigning fatigue. He needed to end this quickly, to get closer to the King, to observe Marcus.

With a carefully timed parry, he disarmed Kaelen, sending his sword clattering across the arena. The crowd roared its approval, expecting the finishing blow. But Ethan/Lucian simply bowed, offering Kaelen a hand up.

"A valiant effort, Sir Kaelen," he said, loud enough for the surrounding nobles to hear. "You are a credit to the crown."

Kaelen, visibly surprised by the gesture of respect, nodded stiffly and accepted Ethan/Lucian’s hand. As he was led away, Ethan/Lucian took the opportunity to move towards the King's box.

He made his way through the throng of nobles, offering polite greetings and deflecting questions about his strategy. He could feel eyes on him, watching, waiting. The tension in the air was palpable.

He reached the edge of the viewing box, close enough to hear the conversation between the King and General Marcus.

"...the physician assures me it's merely a passing illness, Your Majesty," Marcus was saying, his voice low and reassuring. "Nothing to be concerned about."

"I trust your judgment, Marcus," the King replied, his voice raspy and weak. "But I confess, I feel… unwell."

Ethan/Lucian's blood ran cold. The King's illness. He remembered the details from his story. A slow-acting poison, administered over time, designed to weaken him and make him susceptible to a fatal blow.

He had to act.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing deeply. "Forgive my intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you seemed unwell. Might I suggest a draught of chilled wine? It often helps with such discomfort."

The King looked at him, his eyes clouded with pain. "Thank you, Lucian. That is… thoughtful of you."

As Ethan/Lucian turned to signal a servant, he saw it. A fleeting expression on Marcus's face. A flicker of… triumph. It was gone in an instant, masked by his usual affable smile, but Ethan/Lucian had seen it. He knew.

He felt a surge of adrenaline, a cold, focused rage. He'd been so blinded by the obvious suspects, the disgruntled nobles and ambitious merchants, that he'd missed the one person he should have been watching all along.

General Marcus. The King's trusted advisor. The mastermind.

He needed proof. He couldn't accuse him without it.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. All eyes turned towards the arena.

Aurelia was standing in the center, her sword drawn, facing a hulking figure clad in black armour. The figure moved with unnatural speed and strength, his sword a whirlwind of death. He was no ordinary competitor. He was an assassin.

Ethan/Lucian knew this part of the story. He'd written it himself. A diversion, designed to draw attention away from the King, while another assassin moved in for the kill.

He had to choose. Expose Marcus, or save Aurelia. He couldn't do both.

He made his choice.

He vaulted over the railing of the viewing box, landing heavily on the sand of the arena. The crowd gasped. Marcus's face remained impassive.

He charged towards Aurelia, his sword raised. "Aurelia, behind me!" he shouted.

The assassin turned, his masked face devoid of emotion. He lunged at Ethan/Lucian, his sword aimed at his heart.

Ethan/Lucian parried the blow, the force of the impact sending shivers down his spine. This assassin was skilled, far more so than any of the other competitors. He was a professional.

Aurelia moved to his side, her sword flashing. Together, they fought the assassin, a desperate dance of survival under the watchful eyes of the court.

Ethan/Lucian knew they couldn't win. Not like this. The assassin was too strong, too fast. He needed to change the game.

He deliberately stumbled, feigning an injury. The assassin seized the opportunity, lunging forward with a killing blow.

Ethan/Lucian braced himself for the impact. But it never came.

Aurelia had intercepted the blow, her sword clashing against the assassin's. But the force of the impact was too much. She stumbled back, losing her balance.

The assassin raised his sword, ready to deliver the final blow.

Ethan/Lucian reacted instinctively. He threw himself in front of Aurelia, shielding her from the assassin's attack.

The sword pierced his shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through his body. He staggered back, clutching his wound.

He looked up at Aurelia, her eyes wide with shock and concern. He knew he was fulfilling his destiny. He was playing the part he'd written for himself.

But something had changed. He wasn't just playing a part anymore. He was protecting her. He was fighting for her.

The assassin raised his sword again, ready to finish the job.

But before he could strike, a hail of arrows rained down on him, forcing him to retreat. The royal guard had finally arrived.

The assassin disappeared into the crowd, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

Ethan/Lucian collapsed to his knees, his vision blurring. He felt a hand on his arm, gentle but firm.

"Lucian," Aurelia said, her voice filled with concern. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at her, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd saved her life. He'd protected her. And in doing so, he'd unwittingly revealed the truth to himself.

He didn't want to be the villain. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to fight. He wanted to be with her.

"I'm… fine," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "But we need to talk. I know who's behind this."

He looked up at the King's box, his gaze fixed on General Marcus.

"It's Marcus," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "He's the one."

Aurelia's eyes widened. She looked at Marcus, then back at Ethan/Lucian. Doubt warred with suspicion in her gaze.

He knew he had a long way to go to convince her. But he also knew that he couldn't do it alone. He needed her help.

He needed to trust her.

And for the first time since he'd arrived in this world, he felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could rewrite his fate. Maybe he could change the story. Maybe he could even find… happiness.

But first, he had to survive.