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After Cain’s fight, the seventh match proceeded without a hitch, and as always, Seraph stepped into the ring for the final battle of the round. Though his earlier wins had been desperate and narrow, the prince’s arrival brought a chorus of cheers from the audience. One might expect this noisy support to bolster his confidence and turn him back to how he was, but he remained humble, or perhaps ‘fearful’ would be a better word. Every win would plague him with doubts, doubts that he was really strong enough to have defeated his opponents. All of his accomplishments were surely due to plain luck, or maybe his enemies had been paid off to let him win.

“How can I help?”Sophia could not meet his gaze. “It’s about what happened to Bella. There is something you need to know. She wasn’t bitten, she was—”“She got her hands on a bottle of Profane venom that Cyrilo was holding, I know.”Sophia was shocked. “You know? But how?”

He couldn’t maintain this state for long, and eventually snapped out of it, gasping for air as if he had lost a lung. He had to be careful with this training method, as there was no telling what health dangers it posed. He resumed meditating, slowly replenishing his mana reserves. Once they had reached a decent level, an idea occurred to him. He summoned his clone, feeling it overlap his presence with a copy, but now, he was unable to separate from it. The headband was trapping his mana within his body, making him feel wrapped in a thick layer of insulation.