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Bojena paused. “My superiors want Galvin deposed and Seraph put on the throne. Even if he has lost most of his powers, he remains Light’s Emissary, and he’ll be able to unite the nations in this holy war against the Profane.”

“Actually, it’s meant to mimic the effects of sunlight. UV light is what causes sunburns. Unfortunately, while easy to make, it’s not as effective as you might think. The light is too… artificial. It lacks the potency of real sunlight. I tested it numerous times while in Welindar, always trying to improve it, but it was never more than an irritant to the Profane and their parasites. It didn’t help that the lower-ranked fiends can endure the sunlight in exchange for their lesser strength. Even if it did hurt them, the damage was very minor. It was better to just stick with my regular weapons and magic, though I regret that it wasn’t in working condition when Lupin and I fought Kaisen. Perhaps it would have wounded him. These tralt jewels, on the other hand, are great for absorbing light and energy. Using these, I can capture true sunlight, augment it, and use it whenever I need.”

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.