Yuji's eyes widened, surprised by the girl's appearance. Now, however, she didn't seem like the same girl as before. There was a new weight to the way she entered, a brutal contrast between her rebellious posture and the rigid protocol of the hall.
Everything seemed to stop for a moment.
Yuji looked at Felt, then at Reinhard, then at Emilia. The meeting, which already seemed tense, suddenly gained a new layer of conflict, as if the pieces he knew were being placed on a chessboard much larger than he imagined.
He didn't know it yet, but this would be the kind of moment when pretty words, titles, and formalities would begin to hide real threats. And Felt, with her abrupt entrance, had just turned the entire hall upside down.
Felt entered the hall with an air far more strange than solemn, as if she were being forced to walk in a dress that didn't match her personality at all. Even so, there was a certain involuntary delicacy in the way she was being led by the two little pink-haired girls beside her, who seemed to be trying to keep her at the right pace.
Yuji watched from afar, still processing the abrupt change from that little thief from the capital to someone now being thrust into the center of a royal ceremony.
When Felt approached Reinhard, she gave him a crooked smile, half defiant, half mocking. But the mood didn't last long.
Felt didn't even wait for her to finish.
She launched her leg in a quick kick, trying to catch him by surprise.
Reinhard, with the absurdly irritating calm of someone who always seemed to see everything a step ahead, raised his hand and caught her kick effortlessly. The movement was so clean it almost seemed unfair.
He blinked, truly impressed.
"Why are you acting like this?" he asked, still carefully holding her leg so as not to hurt her.
Felt grew even more irritated, huffing with anger at not having managed to hit him. The entire hall watched in silence, as if everyone were waiting for the next spark.
It was then that she noticed Yuji.
Her gaze shifted for a second, recognizing someone familiar among all those noble and formal people. Yuji, realizing at that moment that she might end up giving away his presence there in the middle of the crowd, made a quick hand gesture and shook his head, as if to say: *don't give me away*
Felt raised an eyebrow, but seemed to grasp the idea and said nothing.
Marcus then intervened, in an official tone:
"Felt, take your place with the other candidates."
She grimaced, clearly not liking this at all, but obeyed with heavy steps, still casting irritated glances in all directions.
Reinhard then stepped forward, holding the coat of arms that had been given for the ceremony. The hall fell into complete silence as he raised it before Felt. "This is the symbol that recognizes the candidate's legitimacy," he declared.
Then, with the solemnity of the moment, he placed the coat of arms in her hands.
The object shone.
A clear, intense light spread through the hall, drawing the attention of everyone present. Yuji followed the glow with wide eyes, understanding without needing explanation that it meant more than a simple formal recognition. The magic's response was undeniable.
Reinhard then announced, in a firm voice:
"The coat of arms recognizes Felt as one of the candidates for the throne."
And at that instant, the hall ceased to be merely a place of ceremony. It became the stage for a real contest that was beginning there. Yuji looked from Felt to the other candidates, sensing that, from that moment on, things would only get worse.
The coat of arms' glow still seemed to echo in the hall when the first spark of discontent arose from the other side of the room.
One of the nobles, with a rigid posture and a clearly displeased expression, raised his voice as if Felt's recognition were a personal offense.
"It seems to me a considerable problem," he said, looking at the young woman with clear disdain. "A candidate for the throne who hardly seems to belong to a noble family?"
The phrase landed in the room like a stone thrown into still water. Marcus frowned and, in a voice laden with authority, retorted:
"Are you saying that bothers you?"
On the knights' side, several eyes immediately shifted to the nobles. Yuji felt the atmosphere change instantly. He had noticed from the beginning that the hall was full of people feigning politeness while sharpening knives under the table, but now the tension was more open, uglier.
He began to hear the whispered comments coming from groups scattered around the room.
"A girl raised without manners."
"She doesn't even know how to behave as a candidate."
"Without education, without lineage, without the slightest refinement."
"How could someone like that represent the crown?"
Yuji clenched his jaw. The way they spoke of Felt irritated him more than he expected. It wasn't just the contempt for her behavior; it was the way they treated a person's worth as if it could be measured by their birthplace, their clothes, their correct pronunciation, or the way they held their chin.
He glanced at Felt. The girl looked ready to explode at any moment, but she was still struggling not to react violently.
It was then that one of the sages raised his hand, demanding silence.
"Enough." His voice was dry, and the hall immediately fell silent.
He then turned his gaze to Reinhard, with evident interest.
"Where did you find this girl?"
Reinhard answered without hesitation, with his usual serenity:
"In the slums. About a few weeks ago."
The effect was instantaneous.
One of the nobles widened his eyes, as if he had heard something inconceivable.
"A... slum dweller?" The disgust in her voice was enough to make the atmosphere almost unbearable. Yuji saw the jaws of several knights clench. Marcus remained motionless, but the tension around him was clear.
Felt, in turn, exploded.
"Hey!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the hall with pure rage. "Say it again, you trash dressed in expensive cloth! Slum dweller? Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?!"
The nobles recoiled slightly, surprised by her outburst, while some of those present seemed indignant not at the offense, but at the fact that she had retaliated.
Yuji let out a short sigh, not of exhaustion, but of frustration.
The situation was rapidly descending into territory too ugly even for the politics of that room. And the worst part was that Felt, despite exploding with every reason in the world, was alone on the front line against a bunch of people who judged someone's worth by where they were born.
He realized then that this conference wasn't just going to be about choosing a candidate.
It was going to be about deciding who was allowed to exist on that throne.
The tension was already high when Priscilla decided to turn the tables even more.
She watched Felt with that lazy, arrogant smile of hers, as if the girl's anger was just a staged spectacle for personal entertainment. Instead of backing down, Priscilla seemed to enjoy the fact that Felt was about to explode even more.
"So this is the candidate who came from the slums?" she taunted, waving her fan with theatrical elegance. "How audacious of someone from such a vulgar place."
Felt turned his face toward her in a snap, his eyes already burning with irritation.
"I'm hearing a lot of big mouths from someone asking to get beaten up," she growled. "Are you going to attack me or do you just like to talk?"
Priscilla tilted her chin, clearly offended not by the threat, but by the thought that someone of such low mental stature dared to challenge her presence. She slowly raised her fan toward Felt, the gesture sharp, almost as if she were about to pronounce a sentence.
But before the atmosphere turned into a real confrontation, Reinhard moved.
He appeared in front of Felt in an instant, a block of calm and protection between her and the imminent attack. His mere presence was enough to halt any advance.
Yuji observed this in silence, attentive to every detail. Reinhard's posture was that of a perfect knight, but deep down he seemed to be positioning himself more as a shield than as a judge. This irritated and reassured him at the same time.
It was then that Emilia stepped forward.
Her voice came out controlled, firm, but with a weight that betrayed the discomfort of having to assert herself in the face of so much hostility.
"Priscilla… aren't you going to apologize for what you said about Felt?"
Priscilla let out a short, dry laugh, without losing her elegance.
"And why doesn't the little silver-haired half-elf start by apologizing for simply being born?" she retorted, her eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Since we were talking about origins, I imagine yours is as inconvenient a topic as that of the girl from the slums."
The room seemed to freeze.
Yuji felt his body muscles tense instantly. Priscilla's comment wasn't just cruel, it was calculated to hurt where it hurt most. The way she spoke of a "silver-haired half-elf" made it clear that it wasn't a random provocation; there was something deeper there, something that reached Emilia in a way Yuji didn't yet fully understand.
Emilia, however, maintained her composure.
"I have no connection whatsoever with the Witch of Envy," she said, in a low but undeniable tone.
Yuji clenched his fists silently.
He could feel the anger rising, but it wasn't uncontrolled rage. It was the kind of fury that arises when someone realizes they are witnessing too much injustice and yet must remain still because any movement would only make things worse.
He glanced at Emilia. Her expression remained firm, but Yuji knew those words touched on a very sensitive spot. Priscilla was attacking more than just her appearance; she was attacking the shadow the whole world seemed to insist on casting over her shoulders.
And, on the other side of the room, Felt seemed even more ready to advance. Reinhard remained between her and the rest, but even he seemed to realize that the situation could spiral completely out of control if one more wrong word was spoken.
Yuji took a deep breath, his fists still clenched.
This wasn't just a discussion between candidates.
It was a public trial, cruel and full of venom, where each was being forced to defend not only her right to the throne, but her very right to exist without being defined by blood, origin, or appearance.
Marcos raised his voice again, regaining control of the hall before the discussion between the candidates descended into complete chaos.
"Very well. Let's proceed with the formal presentation of each candidate."
Silence gradually returned, heavy and attentive. Yuji kept his eyes fixed on the center of the room, sensing that this was less a ceremony and more a veiled struggle for power, pride, and legitimacy.
The first to be called was Priscilla Barielle, accompanied by Aldebaran.
Priscilla advanced as if the entire hall had been built to receive her. Her posture was impeccable, her gaze sharp, her smile laden with an almost insulting confidence. Aldebaran followed closely behind, with the naturalness of someone who seemed to have already accepted that his mistress was impossible to predict, and yet he remained by her side.
Priscilla didn't even try to disguise her disdain for the event.
"This meeting is useless," she declared, waving her fan disdainfully. "There's no need to pretend that everyone here has the ability to decide what is already obvious. I am the only person truly suited to govern this nation."
#01
Some in the hall exchanged tense glances, but Priscilla continued without hesitation.
"The world revolves in my favor. Destiny, luck, history itself always end up leaning towards me. When I take control, you will all end up bowing. And, in the end, you will kiss the feet of your sovereign."
Yuji narrowed his eyes, incredulous at her almost absurd arrogance. Even being someone accustomed to problematic people, Priscilla seemed to operate on a different scale of ego. Still, there was something about her that didn't sound entirely empty; it was as if she fully believed in every word she said.
Aldebaran, beside her, simply remained quiet, as if it were just another ordinary day.
Then it was Crusch Karsten's turn.
She walked forward with a much more sober and disciplined air. Her presence didn't depend on theatricality or provocation; her posture alone was enough to convey authority. Beside her stood Felix Argyle, with that same light smile and animated expression that contrasted with the serious atmosphere of the moment.
Crusch took the floor firmly, without raising her voice unnecessarily.
"If I become ruler, I will make the dragon forget the pact it made with the draconic kingdom of Lugnica," she declared. "The nation belongs to its people, not to an ancient tradition that imprisons our future."
#02
Her speech carried conviction. Yuji immediately realized that Crusch wasn't there simply to win through prestige or lineage. There was a real political ideal behind her words, a vision of change that sounded harsh, but structured.
"As long as the kingdom continues to be sustained by empty alliances and inherited dependencies, we will never achieve true sovereignty," she continued. "If Lugnica belongs to its inhabitants, then its destiny must be decided by them, and not by a pact that can no longer be treated as sacred above the needs of the people."
Felix, standing beside her, seemed comfortable enough to let his posture relax, yet still maintained a light elegance that matched Crusch's confidence.
Yuji listened silently, trying to gauge the contrast between Priscilla and Crusch. One spoke as if she had already won; the other as if she were willing to fight for a different future, even if it meant breaking with old traditions.
And, at the heart of that conflict, he saw that the Royal Selection wasn't just a clash of personalities.
It was a struggle between completely different visions of how the country should exist.
Next to present was Anastasia Hoshin, representative of the Hoshin Companies, accompanied by Julius Euclius. She stepped forward with a slight smile, almost too gentle for someone who was there vying for the future of a nation. Even with her delicate appearance and well-cared-for white clothing, there was something sharp in her eyes, as if every word she spoke had been calculated in advance.
Anastasia then explained, with an almost amused sincerity, that she was a greedy girl. And that's precisely why she wanted everything.
"There's no financial success in this world that would satisfy me," she said matter-of-factly, as if she were talking about the weather. "If there's an opportunity, I want it. If there's profit, I want more than that. If there's a way to grow, I want to be the only one to take advantage of it."
#03
Yuji watched in silence. Her speech was less idealistic than Crusch's and less arrogant than Priscilla's, but it still carried weight. Anastasia wasn't feigning altruism; on the contrary, she seemed to shamelessly admit that her motivation was prosperity, expansion, and control. And perhaps that was precisely what made her dangerous: she knew exactly what she wanted and didn't hide behind pretty words.
When it was Emilia's turn, the room seemed to adjust again, as if everyone awaited the reaction to her presence with more expectation than curiosity. Marcos called the candidate, and then Roswaal L. Mathers, the marquess who supported her, also stepped forward beside her.
Emilia took a deep breath. Yuji noticed how hard she was trying to maintain her composure, even under the pressure of standing before so many people who were already judging her before even hearing her speak. Her gaze was firm, but there was a tense delicacy in her gestures, as if each word needed to pierce not only the hall, but also years of prejudice and suspicion.
"My wish," she began, her voice clear, yet soft, "is to create a place where everyone can be equal."
Yuji felt the attention around him shift in intensity. Emilia continued, choosing each phrase carefully, but without losing her firmness.
"I want a country where all citizens can live together in equality and harmony. Where someone's worth is not defined by the blood they carry, their family name, or where they come from. A place where each person can live without fear of being treated as less for existing differently."
The silence that followed was heavy. Some seemed to doubt her, others merely assessed her. Yuji, for his part, felt a kind of silent pride. It was a far more difficult ideal to uphold than it first appeared, precisely because it demanded that the world change in the direction she believed, and not the other way around.
Finally, the last announcement came with the tension of something the hall itself seemed to have anticipated from the beginning.
Felt and her companion, the knight Reinhard van Astrea, were summoned.
Felt faced the center of the room with the same expression of someone who clearly didn't want to be there. Unlike the other candidates, she didn't seem to be trying to appear noble, nor did she know how to disguise her disdain for protocol. Her posture was direct, impatient, almost aggressive.
"I don't want to be here," she said bluntly, throwing the phrase into the hall like someone kicking a stone from the road.
Some nobles seemed offended simply by the tone. Others were shocked by the lack of ceremony. Yuji, however, immediately understood that Felt was the most honest person there. She wasn't trying to win through the theater of words or the mask of diplomacy. She simply didn't want to participate in this, and precisely for that reason, her presence was impossible to ignore.
Reinhard remained by her side with his usual composure, as if prepared to contain any chaos that Felt might unleash upon the world.
Yuji looked at the four groups, feeling that he finally had before him the totality of the contest: arrogance, ambition, idealism, and open rejection. Four very different ways of facing the throne, all exposed before a room full of people willing to judge even the smallest gesture.
And, at that moment, it became clear to him that the Royal Selection would not be decided solely by politics.
It would be decided by what each candidate was capable of enduring under the gaze of everyone.
Marcos still observed Felt for a moment, as if giving her one last chance to remain silent and simply accept the formality of the event. But the girl's expression already made it clear that she didn't want to stay there for even another second.
"Do you want to leave?" he asked directly.
"I do!" "Felt answered without hesitation, crossing his arms impatiently.
The answer had barely finished when one of the Sages rose with a bitter expression. He was a bald man, with a hard face, and two enormous blue eyebrows that drew attention almost as much as the contempt etched on his face. He let out a dry laugh, one that came more from disgust than humor.
"So that's it?" he said, looking at Felt as if she were a flaw in the very hall. "It seems like heresy to bring a slum dweller to serve as queen."
Silence fell again, heavier than before. The old man didn't even try to hide the venom in his voice. On the contrary, he seemed to feed on his own cruelty.
Then he turned his gaze to Roswaal, his crooked smile becoming even more unpleasant."
"And you, Marquis Mathers… decided to support such devilry? Honestly, your judgment is as compromised as the rest of this farce."
Roswaal replied with his usual cold, smiling tone, but the habitual lightness seemed sharper now.
"My, my~…" he murmured. "That comment wasn't very nice.~"
The sage didn't even bother to be intimidated. On the contrary, he seemed even more pleased to continue.
"And on top of that," he said, pointing his finger at Emilia, "That half-elf looks just like the Witch of Envy. A face like that shouldn't even be before us. It's filthy."
The word echoed in the hall in a way that made the air change density.
Yuji felt the anger rise so quickly it almost felt physical. First, it was a strong grip on his arm, his fingers closing so tightly that his skin began to ache. He didn't realize when he started to squeeze back; All he knew was that the offense had gone from a political insult to something much more personal.
Emilia remained motionless on the outside, but Yuji knew it had affected her. It wasn't just the tone of contempt, but the way that man spoke of her as if her existence were a stain. And the worst part was that the entire hall seemed divided between the desire to pretend nothing had happened and the desire to watch the humiliation as a spectacle.
Yuji took a deep breath through his nose, but couldn't relax.
Gradually, his irritation ceased to be just emotion and began to transform into impulse. He wanted to say something. He wanted to wring that word from the sage's mouth and make him swallow his own poison. He wanted to defend Emilia right there, without politics, without protocol, without ceremony. But everything around him seemed constructed precisely to prevent that kind of reaction.
Even so, his arm remained clenched between his own fingers, as if trying to contain something greater than just anger.
The hall was silent, but Yuji could no longer pretend to accept it.
Yuji felt the memory of the Jujutsu Academy directors hitting him like a sharp blow. The same arrogance, the same pleasure in belittling someone out of prejudice, the same habit of turning authority into contempt. Some things never really changed, regardless of the world.
Before he could contain himself, he raised his voice.
"Stop it!"
The phrase cut through the hall abruptly, causing several eyes to turn to him immediately. Yuji was already moving before he could even think too much, leaving his hiding place among the knights and heading towards the center of the hall with firm steps. The atmosphere became even heavier when those present realized that this young man was deliberately crossing the line between observer and participant.
Emilia's eyes widened as soon as she saw him advance.
"Yuji?!" her voice came out surprised and indignant at the same time. "What are you doing here? I told you not to come! You disobeyed my order!"
Her frustration was clear. It wasn't empty anger; it was the kind of worry that arises when someone enters the fire to defend you uninvited. Yuji noticed this, but didn't back down.
On the other side, the bearded sage raised an eyebrow and observed the intruder with cold interest.
"And what would be the position of this young man accompanying Emilia?" he asked, as if assessing a piece out of place.
Emilia seemed to freeze for a moment, perhaps unsure whether she should answer, perhaps too surprised by Yuji's sudden appearance to immediately regain her composure.
It was then that Yuji took another step forward and made a proper bow, albeit without the excessive formality of nobles. His gesture was simple, but firm enough to show that he wasn't there to provoke, but rather to present himself in a dignified manner.
"It's a pleasure to meet the members of the council of sages..." he said, looking directly at the elders at the top of the room. "I am her butler and knight. My name is Yuji Itadori."
#04
The statement fell across the hall like an unexpected response. Yuji felt several eyes measuring him from head to toe, trying to fit him into a hierarchy that was already becoming too strange even for him. Still, he remained upright.
He knew he had broken Emilia's order. He knew he was getting into trouble. But, after hearing someone call Emilia filthy, after hearing Felt reduced to a "slum dweller," he simply couldn't stand still.
Now, in the center of the hall, before the sages and all the candidates, Yuji was no longer just someone hidden among knights.
He was someone who had chosen to stand by her side, even when it meant defying the entire room.
Julius stepped forward, and the air around him shifted again. Even without raising his voice, he managed to make the entire hall seem smaller. The knights closest to him remained silent, attentive to the way he looked at Yuji with a mixture of curiosity and judgment.
"So it's true?" Julius said, maintaining his impeccable posture. "You claim to be Lady Emilia's knight?"
Yuji held his gaze without flinching.
"I am."
The answer came simply, but firmly. Julius didn't seem satisfied with the simplicity. On the contrary, he tilted his head, as if Yuji's audacity deserved a longer analysis.
"That was quite an imprudent attitude on your part..." he commented. "To speak like that in front of all the knights present, to interrupt an official audience and place yourself at the center of everything without proper authorization… it's a curious way to demonstrate loyalty."
Yuji understood the tone: it wasn't just an observation. It was a challenge.
Julius then crossed his arms slightly, observing him with almost clinical attention.
"Tell me, boy. Do you have enough determination to stand by what you just declared?"
Yuji didn't even blink.
"I do," he replied immediately.
Without hesitating, without adding explanations, without trying to sound smarter than he was. Just yes.
"I'll do everything I can to help her."
The statement came out directly, truthfully, and perhaps even too simple for Julius's liking. But Yuji wasn't good at elegant phrases. He was good at honest promises.
Julius narrowed his eyes for a moment, and then moved forward a little more, his tone still calm, but now visibly more critical.
"And what have you done so far that gives you the right to consider yourself superior to the knights of the kingdom?" he asked. "What is it about you that makes you worthy of occupying that place beside her?"
The question hit hard.
Yuji immediately understood what Julius was trying to do. It wasn't just professional pride or defending his knighthood. It was a kind of test, or perhaps a trial, to see if Yuji truly had the right to be there. And, looking around, he saw that many people were listening. Knights, nobles, sages. All assessing his reaction.
With each passing second, the eyes on him seemed to weigh more heavily. Some were openly suspicious. Others, almost disdainful. Yuji felt his whole body recognize it as social pressure, something as uncomfortable as a physical battle, only without the possibility of punches or kicks to resolve it.
For a moment, he looked from side to side and blurted out a question that came out drier than he intended:
"Was that supposed to scare me?"
The sentence hung in the air.
It wasn't a pretty answer. It wasn't strategic. But it came out with the sincerity of someone who truly refused to be diminished just because others had more polished armor or longer titles. Yuji didn't know how to play that game perfectly. Still, he was too tired to feign being impressed.
Julius maintained a composed expression, but something on his face indicated that the answer had been carefully observed.
And, in the middle of that judging circle, Yuji remained standing, without nobility, without excessive ceremony, but also without taking a step back.
Julius remained silent for a moment, as if wanting to gauge how far Yuji's answer would hold up. Then, he spoke again with the same cutting calm as before.
"Then answer again," he said. "Why, exactly, do you insist on siding with Ms. Emilia?"
Yuji took a deep breath. He knew that any superficial answer would sound empty in that hall full of people accustomed to well-rehearsed speeches. So he spoke as directly as he could.
"Because she is special."
The sentence came out simple, but full of conviction. Yuji looked in Emilia's direction for a brief second before continuing.
"She does everything she can to help others, even when almost no one does the same for her. Even though she's treated as if she doesn't deserve to be here, she keeps trying. And that's special to me."
He turned his gaze to Julius, without looking away.
"I don't have the politeness of a knight. I don't know how to speak eloquently like you. But I've been through things that half the knights here would probably be terrified just to imagine. So no, I'm not going to back down now."
The last sentence came out firmer than he expected. And, as he said it, Yuji felt a kind of weight lift from his chest. Not because everything was resolved, but because he had finally said aloud what he thought.
Julius seemed to accept the answer. Not with approval, exactly, but with the posture of someone who recognizes a truth even when he doesn't like it. His gaze loosened slightly, and he seemed about to conclude the conversation.
But before he could answer, one of the wise men stepped forward.
The man observed Yuji with unusual attention. His gaze lingered on his face longer than usual, as if trying to find something specific in his features.
"Hmm…" murmured the sage, narrowing his eyes. "That appearance… is strangely familiar."
Yuji frowned, confused.
The sage continued, without even blinking:
"There's something about your face that reminds me of someone else. An unpleasant resemblance. Almost disturbing."
The comment made the entire hall even quieter. Yuji realized it wasn't a compliment, but a comparison whose name no one seemed willing to say aloud.
He didn't immediately understand who they were talking about. But the way the sage observed him, as if he had found an echo of something ancient and dangerous, sent a shiver down his spine.
Yuji glanced at Emilia, then at Julius, and then back at the sage. For some reason, he felt that this observation wasn't just about appearance.
It was about something much deeper, something he didn't yet know, but which was about to become a serious matter in that hall.
Priscilla, who until then seemed entertained only by pure arrogance, tilted her face with an almost lazy smile. Her eyes gleamed with the same elegant cruelty as always, and then she decided to throw another spark on the fire.
"Now that you mention it…" she said, gently opening her fan. "Doesn't he really look like someone?"
The question fell on the hall like a stone in still water. At first, it was just a silent discomfort. But it only took one of the wise men to repeat the idea in a low tone, narrowing his eyes towards Yuji, for murmurs to begin spreading through the corners of the hall.
"Yes… now that you say so, there's something strange."
"That expression…"
"The shape of his face…"
"He reminds me of someone…"
The conversations spread quickly, like wildfire. Yuji noticed the changing glances. First curiosity turned to suspicion. Then suspicion turned to a kind of superstitious unease, as if some there were witnessing a bad omen taking shape.
One of the sages, the most incisive so far, stepped forward, his voice heavy.
"Ryomen," he said, almost as an accusation. "This boy may be a descendant of Ryomen?"
The entire hall seemed to react to that word.
Yuji felt his stomach sink. The name hit him with a strange weight, and the worst part wasn't even the reaction of those present, it was the feeling of already being condemned by a name he barely understood in that context. Up until then, he had already been pursued by Sukuna, carrying a presence that the world around him insisted on recognizing as a threat. Now, it seemed that even his appearance could serve as a reason for distrust.
He noticed the atmosphere closing in around him in an almost physical way. The knights tensed. Some nobles murmured. The sages exchanged serious glances, as if trying to decide in real time whether he was merely a coincidence or a historical problem resurfacing before them.
Yuji clenched his fists.
The idea of being accused of some connection to Ryoumen hit him deeper than he expected. Not because he understood all the details, but because he was already tired of being treated as something dangerous simply for existing. Sukuna had already turned his life into persecution and chaos many times. And now, in that hall full of people too sophisticated to admit fear, he felt the same kind of judgment repeating itself under another name.
The entire atmosphere seemed to lean against him. And, for the first time since entering there, Yuji realized that he wasn't just defending Emilia.
He was also trying to prove that he wasn't the thing everyone seemed ready to fear.
Yuji felt the pressure of the hall growing around him. The accusation of Ryoumen still echoed among the sages and nobles, and each second of silence made the situation worse. He didn't like lying. In truth, lying was the last thing he wanted to do there. But admitting any connection to Sukuna wouldn't just be dangerous for him; it could also screw over Emilia, dragging her candidacy even further into the mud in front of people who were already looking for any excuse to attack her.
So he took a deep breath and spoke in the firmest voice he could muster.
"I have absolutely no involvement with Ryomen Sukuna."
The sentence came out dryly, directly, almost like a desperate attempt to cut the conversation short before it escalated.
But the impact was short-lived.
Julius stepped forward, stopping in front of Yuji with his usual controlled elegance, only now with seriousness etched on his face. His expression no longer had room for irony or light defiance. There was something heavier there, something that demanded a truthful answer.
"Tell me honestly," Julius asked, looking him straight in the eye. "You really don't have any connection to Ryomen? Any connection whatsoever?"
#05
The question came without embellishment, without spectacle. Just the core of the problem, laid bare so Yuji couldn't escape.
Yuji swallowed hard. He opened his mouth, closed it, and tried to organize what he would say. It was exactly the kind of question he never had a simple answer for. Because, on one hand, his existence was linked to Sukuna in a way he hated to admit. On the other, he knew that any further detail would be too bad to throw out there, in front of everyone.
He tried to explain himself, the words coming out a little jumbled at first.
"I… I don't have a connection with him the way you're thinking. I'm not family, I'm not an ally, I'm not serving anyone like that. I just—"
The sentence died in the middle.
Because by saying "I just," he realized how impossible it was to finish without opening some wound. His chest tightened. The entire hall seemed to be waiting for exactly that stumble.
It was then that he felt Emilia's gaze on him.
She didn't say anything, but Yuji noticed immediately. Emilia watched him with a mixture of worry and tension, trying to understand how long he could maintain this without breaking down. There was confidence in her eyes, but also fear. Fear that the situation would spiral out of control and the accusation would fall on her even worse.
Yuji realized then that he couldn't hesitate any longer. Any sign of doubt would be turned into evidence against him. So he straightened his shoulders and, even without being able to offer a beautiful explanation, he stood by the truth in the only way he could.
"I have nothing to do with Ryomen Sukuna," he repeated, clearer this time. "If something is chasing me, it's not because I chose it."
The tension in the hall remained heavy, but now the situation had subtly changed. He was no longer just being accused; he was being forced to define himself before everyone. And Emilia, observing silently, seemed to realize that this answer was the maximum honesty he could offer without jeopardizing everything.
Priscilla crossed her arms and let out a small sound of disdain, as if the whole dilemma were too ridiculous to warrant anyone's effort. Her fan lay open before her face, partially concealing the sharp smile she seemed never to abandon.
"You can't deny your origins..." she said, with the cruel nonchalance of someone wielding a blade without haste. "Even if you try to hide it, certain things always end up resurfacing."
Felt, who had been irritated by the situation from the start, turned to her with a frown.
"That's stupid," she retorted, stamping her foot. "Are they trying to frame your little brother over there because of a similar face? What kind of nonsense is this?"
Her statement created a small shock in the room. Felt was in the habit of speaking without any filter, but this time the frankness was accompanied by a genuine, almost protective irritation. She didn't seem interested in diplomacy; she just wanted to say that it was rubbish.
Crusch remained silent, observing the exchange with the same seriousness with which she would analyze a military decision. She said nothing, but Yuji easily perceived that there was a silent judgment there. Crusch seemed to be evaluating not only the accusation, but what it would mean for the country, for the Selection, and for Emilia. Her expression was too controlled to be called support or condemnation, but it was clear that she had an opinion on the matter.
Emilia, in turn, shook her head almost immediately.
"I don't believe it," she said firmly. "Yuji isn't that kind of person."
Her words were short, but they carried something much greater than simple defense. It was confidence. And that weighed more heavily on Yuji than he expected. Because, at that moment, what Emilia was doing was choosing to believe him in front of everyone, even with the possibility of risking herself for it.
Julius kept his gaze on Yuji, still incredulous.
"If there's nothing to fear, then prove it." "He said, in a tone that made it clear there was no more room for discussion.
Yuji let out a short sigh. He knew this was the kind of situation that would only get worse if he tried to run away.
"Okay..." he replied, accepting the challenge.
Julius then stepped forward, analyzing Yuji with the seriousness of a duelist about to test an unusual opponent.
"But don't be disappointed by your candidate's face," he said, referring to Emilia with controlled coldness. "If you're going to use your power in front of everyone, prepare yourself for what that might mean."
#06
Yuji understood the implicit threat in the comment. He didn't want to look at Emilia at that moment. Not because he didn't want to meet her eyes, but because he knew that if he saw her expression, he would probably hesitate. And hesitating at that moment was the same as losing.
But there was a bigger problem: he also knew that using his abilities there could make everything worse.
If he showed too much, if he revealed something strange, difficult to explain, or something that resembled a force beyond the common human standard, everyone's eyes could immediately return to the same dangerous place: Sukuna. Even without any real connection, a single wrong impression would be enough for the entire hall to start connecting dots that didn't exist.
The responsibility of fighting, at that moment, wasn't just to defeat Julius.
It was also to prevent his every gesture from being interpreted as an indication of something monstrous.
Yuji clenched his fists, feeling the weight of it with complete clarity. The hall seemed smaller now, more oppressive. And he already knew that, from then on, any wrong move could transform a defense into condemnation.
Marcos took a deep breath, as if finally able to gather the fragments of the ceremony to carry everything forward.
"Very well. The Royal Selection has finally begun."
The sentence marked the end of that block of formalities, but for Yuji it sounded more like the beginning of an even bigger problem. The hall seemed to still vibrate with the tension of the previous discussion, and even after the ceremony moved on to the next steps, he still carried that heavy anger in his chest. The way they had spoken of Emilia, the way they had tried to reduce her to a face, an origin, a target of contempt… it wouldn't leave his head.
Minutes later, Yuji was in a separate room with Felix and Reinhard. The atmosphere was much less oppressive than the great hall, but that didn't mean his body had relaxed. On the contrary: he was restless, mentally pacing in circles, still ruminating on everything he had seen and heard.
Normally, he wouldn't be so stressed. But now it was different. Emilia's public humiliation had left something unresolved within him, like a wound he hadn't yet managed to heal. Felix, noticing this, tilted his head with that light, almost provocative air that seemed to be part of his personality.
"From now on, you are Emilia's knight." "Then you'll have to protect her tooth and nail, you hear?" Felix said, as if merely reminding everyone of a simple rule.
Yuji looked up at him, still serious.
"I know..."
Reinhard, leaning against the wall with the naturalness of someone who always seemed to have complete control of the situation, nodded immediately afterward.
"Felix is right," he said. "If you chose this place beside her, then you'll need to take it seriously."
Yuji took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He already knew this. The problem was that knowing and feeling were different things. Knowing that Emilia needed protection was one thing. Feeling the weight of that after seeing how cruel the world was to her was something else entirely.
It was then that Julius appeared.
His posture remained impeccable, as if the previous discussion had never shaken his composure. He announced, bluntly, that they would head to the coliseum for the next step.
"We'll fight there..." he said calmly. "It's the appropriate place to test the knights' position and the strength of those accompanying each candidate."
Yuji looked at him, still irritated, but attentive.
Julius then asked the most obvious question in the world for someone in that situation:
"Are you going to use a sword?"
Yuji answered without hesitation.
"I don't need to."
The answer came out firm, without bravado. He wasn't trying to appear stronger than he was, nor was he belittling the weapon. It was just the truth he knew about himself. His fighting style didn't depend on swords, titles, or etiquette. If he needed to face someone, he already had other ways to do it.
Julius seemed to accept the answer with a slight nod, although his gaze still carried the same critical analysis as before.
Yuji, however, already knew that the confrontation in the coliseum wouldn't just be a demonstration of strength. This would be yet another occasion where everyone would try to measure his worth, his right to be by Emilia's side, and perhaps even the risk his existence represented within that political scenario.
And that, unfortunately, meant that the next few hours were going to be much longer than he would have liked.
Before leaving, Yuji approached Reinhard with a closed face and tension still clenched in his jaw. He needed to know if this was normal in that world, or if Emilia was being treated that way simply because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Is this common?" he asked bluntly. "Nobles and wise men acting that way towards Emilia? This level of racism… is it normal here?"
Reinhard lowered his gaze slightly, serious in a rare way.
"I'm sorry…" he said. "Not everyone is like that, Yuji. Unfortunately, I can't control what they think or say."
Yuji pressed his lips together. That answer didn't satisfy him, and it was obvious in the way he tilted his head, irritated. "...Then use that power you have," he retorted. "If you wanted to, you could wipe out this bunch of idiots in seconds."
Reinhard didn't reply.
His silence was almost worse than a denial. Yuji stared at the knight for a moment, waiting for a firmer reaction, some phrase that would show he was also bothered by it the way Yuji was. But Reinhard remained calm, respectful, and precisely because of that, Yuji understood something he didn't want to understand.
Internally, the comparison came dryly: Reinhard wasn't like Satoru Gojo.
Gojo would have turned that hall into chaos just to humiliate half a dozen arrogant people. Gojo would have said something absurd, smiling, and put everyone in their place without apologizing to anyone. Reinhard, on the other hand, seemed bound to a higher order, a kind of nobility that didn't break rules even when they were rotten. And that disappointed Yuji more than he wanted to admit.
It wasn't that Reinhard was weak. On the contrary. It was quite the opposite. He seemed too strong to choose to act.
Yuji looked away and left, taking with him that bitter feeling that, in that world, strength didn't necessarily mean justice. When he arrived at the Colosseum with Julius, the atmosphere was already different. The wide opening, the pressure of the space, and the anticipation of the duel gave the place an air of an ancient, almost ritualistic arena. Julius walked beside him with his usual impeccable composure, and now there was no longer room for political discussions or observations about the hall.
Julius stopped before him, holding his sword naturally.
"I want to ask you something before we begin," he said, looking at Yuji seriously. "Can I go all out? With powers and everything?"
The question came directly, without disguise. Yuji realized immediately that this wasn't just provocation. Julius wanted a real duel, not a performance to impress others.
Yuji, after everything he had heard and felt that morning, answered in the simplest way possible:
"You can."
Without hesitation.
Without backing down.
Without trying to limit what was to come.
If Julius wanted to measure the difference between them, then Yuji wasn't going to pretend it scared him. He was already too angry about what they'd done to Emilia to act with false modesty. If the duel needed to be serious, then it would be truly serious.
Yuji noticed the small spirits around Julius almost the instant the fight was about to begin. They were light, swift presences, almost like currents of air taking shape around him, circulating with silent obedience.
"So you're a spirit user too…" Yuji murmured, more to himself than to Julius.
Julius smiled slightly, as if that confirmed something he already expected.
"I see you have keen eyes."
The next second, he lunged forward.
It was fast. Fast enough for an ordinary person to seem to vanish. The blade came with precision, and the cut would have been clean if Yuji had reacted a moment later. But he was fast too. His body had already become accustomed to fighting against things far worse than an elegant knight with a sharp sword.
Yuji dodged the first blow by leaning forward, feeling the wind of the blade pass so close it almost tore his clothes. Julius was already spinning for the second attack, using the momentum of the first movement without losing rhythm. The spirits around him seemed to help adjust his balance, his reading of distance, his speed.
Yuji took a step back, then another, observing.
"He doesn't just fight with technique," Yuji thought. "He uses the spirits to amplify everything."
Julius attacked again, now with a horizontal slash, followed by a short lunge. Yuji blocked with his forearm reinforced by the movement of his own body, deflecting the weight of the sword and spinning to get within his opponent's reach. Julius jumped back before Yuji could take advantage of the opening, clearly accustomed to not letting the enemy dominate the distance.
The two exchanged a rapid sequence of advances and retreats. Julius was clean, precise, elegant. Each movement seemed calculated to appear both beautiful and lethal. Yuji, on the other hand, was brutal, instinctive, and direct. Instead of flourishes, he sought the blind spot, the imbalance, the chance to close the distance and turn the fight into something closer than Julius would like.
The spirits surrounding the knight continued to move, subtly interfering with his speed and precision. Still, Yuji managed to keep up. This seemed to surprise Julius for a moment.
"You see well," he commented, advancing again.
"And you talk too much..." Yuji replied, narrowly dodging another blow.
The entire arena seemed to spin around them, but Yuji wasn't intimidated. He already knew Julius was dangerous. What he needed to find out now was how far that danger went and if the elegant knight could truly keep up with someone who didn't depend on sword, honor, or etiquette to stay standing.
The fight was just beginning, and Yuji already sensed that Julius was not an opponent he could underestimate for a single second.
Yuji slowly let out a breath, feeling his entire body enter that strange state of absolute concentration that precedes a serious fight. His eyes fixed on Julius, he finally decided to stop holding back.
A bluish flame, light and intense at the same time, began to vibrate in his hands. It wasn't real fire, but the sensation it caused was almost the same: heat, pressure, something alive coursing through his fingers and rising up his arms. The cursed energy took shape around Yuji's fists, and the atmosphere of the arena changed instantly.
Julius noticed.
The spirits around him moved faster, as if they also understood that the fight had just entered another level.
Yuji advanced without hesitation.
The first punch came heavy, and the impact forced Julius to take a half-step back. The second attack came immediately, even faster, and the knight felt the blow pierce through his defense like a brutal wave. The Divergent Fist moved in rhythm with frightening precision, making the first impact land one way and the second another, as if the timing of the attack itself were broken.
Julius was hit by a double attack.
Even so, he remained standing.
His body swayed, but he didn't fall. His breath became shorter, and for a moment it was clear that he had felt the true weight of that blow. Still, his feet remained firmly on the arena floor. Yuji observed this with a serious, almost irritated expression, because it confirmed what he already suspected: Julius was truly strong.
But Yuji was also thinking about something else.
He didn't want to use Sukuna's abilities.
Not there.
Not at that moment.
If he used that kind of power, people would start looking at him the wrong way. They would suspect, connect the dots, imagine he was some descendant of those things, or worse, that he had a connection to the same evil the world feared. And Yuji didn't want that. He didn't want to carry that shadow before even fully understanding where he was.
So he advanced again, without resorting to anything that could reveal his identity.
Julius, feeling the pressure, raised his blade and then decided to provoke.
"You really fight like a demon," he said, in a cold, cutting tone.
The word hit Yuji deeper than Julius probably imagined.
Yuji's gaze hardened instantly.
That provocation wasn't just an insult. It was a precise push to the right wound. After everything he had been holding back, after the humiliation suffered at the hands of Emilia, after the frustration with Reinhard, after trying to fight without becoming something others could point to as a monster… hearing that was enough to break the last layer of defense.
Yuji changed his posture.
The energy in his body concentrated in an absurd, precise, violent way.
And then came the Black Flash.
The impact was instantaneous and brutal, as if space itself had been struck along with the fist. The force of the blow exploded in a perfect fraction of time, and the air around seemed to tremble with the violence of the hit. Julius received the attack full force, and the difference between resisting and being crushed became clear in that same instant.
Yuji wasn't just fighting.
He was responding to the provocation with everything he had.
And now, with the Black Flash having landed at the exact moment, the entire arena seemed to understand that Julius had gone too far in calling him a demon.
Julius retreated enough to readjust his stance, but he didn't lower his guard. His expression remained serious, but now there was something different there, a kind of caution that hadn't existed before.
"According to the commandments," he said, measuring each word. "We need to eliminate anyone connected to Ryomen."
Yuji frowned.
It wasn't just the content of the sentence. It was the way he said "Ryomen," as if avoiding mentioning the whole name, as if pronouncing it already carried too much weight. Yuji realized immediately that this also happened with others. They didn't say "Sukuna" naturally. It was always circumvention, avoidance, substitution. As if the name itself were a threat.
"So that's how they do it…" Yuji thought, his eyes fixed on Julius. "They even avoid his name."
Yuji's reply came dryly, almost irritated.
"I don't die easily."
There was no bravado in his voice. It was just a fact. He had already been beaten, fallen, survived, and returned so many times that saying it sounded less like a challenge and more like accumulated experience.
Julius then made a short movement with his hand, and one of the spirits around him advanced. The small, almost ethereal presence launched itself as an extension of Julius's own rhythm, interfering with the flow of combat and opening space for new attacks.
Yuji responded without hesitation.
He had practiced this in the mansion, far from the center of attention, far from the judging eyes that judged before even understanding. The technique, which until then had remained under development, now emerged cleanly, precisely, and violently: blood manipulation.
The blood condensed in his hands as if obeying a will that transcended the body. In a few moments, he molded it into a red blade, a blood sword firm enough to be used for real. It wasn't an ordinary weapon. It was something alive, unstable, and completely outside the expected standard for any knight or swordsman in that world.
Julius narrowed his eyes as he watched the form emerge.
"This… is a very unusual skill," he commented, his voice controlled, but clearly interested.
Yuji gripped the blood sword firmly and advanced again. "I learned from the best…"
The arena seemed smaller now. Not in size, but in intensity. Each exchange of blows carried a new layer of tension, as if the two were testing not only strength and speed, but also the difference between the worlds they came from.
Julius used his spirits with refined, almost elegant precision. Yuji responded with improvisation, brutality, and constant adaptation. The blood sword cut through the air in red arcs, forcing Julius to reposition himself, calculate more, predict less. And that, for someone like him, was certainly an interesting challenge.
Yuji, for his part, wasn't thinking about winning beautifully.
He just wanted to stay standing.
And, if possible, show that it wasn't so simple to kill someone who had already survived far worse things than a commandment order.
The battle between the two soon ceased to be just a duel and became a frenetic clash of movements, cuts, and rapid displacements. Julius had a clear advantage in technique: clean stance, precise strikes, impeccable distance judgment, and a fluidity that made each attack seem rehearsed to disarm his opponent in the most elegant way possible. Yuji, on the other hand, didn't have the same refinement with the sword, and he knew it.
But he compensated with something else.
The blood around the blade wasn't just for decoration. With each attack, Yuji used blood manipulation to create small interferences in the rhythm of the fight. Sometimes, the blood sword would unpredictably lengthen, changing trajectory at the last instant. Other times, he would make the blood spread in short strands in the air, forcing Julius to adjust the angle of his strike. At certain moments, Yuji would suddenly let the weapon "weigh down," breaking his opponent's expectations and opening space for a short, brutal counterattack.
Julius noticed this quickly.
"You fight in a very awkward way." "He commented, dodging a cut that had come from an angle too strange to be natural.
Yuji didn't respond. He was too busy trying not to be crushed by the technical difference between the two.
Julius advanced with a sequence of thrusts that almost ripped the blood weapon from Yuji's hand. The knight twisted his fist and slashed diagonally, forcing Yuji to retreat for the first time in seconds. But the retreat wasn't defeat. It was space. And Yuji used that space to launch small, improvised blood blades towards Julius's eyes and arm, not to pierce, but to hinder.
Blood didn't need to win on its own. It only needed to irritate, deflect, and create a half-second advantage.
And against a swordsman of Julius's level, half a second could be everything.
The combat became increasingly aggressive. Julius maintained visual control of the fight, but Yuji pushed the pace to a more chaotic level." He advanced forcefully, accepting scratches rather than yielding ground, and turned each block into a chance to press harder. The blood-stained sword would sometimes harden into a solid blade, sometimes fragment into short movements that disrupted the enemy's defense. The contrast kept Julius constantly on edge.
Yuji grew angrier as the fight dragged on.
It wasn't just because Julius was difficult to face. It was because he spoke and acted as if he were always one step ahead, as if everything was already under control, as if Yuji were just another obstacle to be calmly analyzed. That elegant, cold, almost superior posture was starting to truly irritate him.
Julius dodged again and slid to the side, cutting the air with his sword in a clean arc.
"You're using anger to move..." he said, with an irritating calm. "That's dangerous."
Yuji clenched his fist tighter.
"Be quiet."
But Julius didn't stay.
He continued moving with the same composure, and that only made Yuji want to hit him harder. The entire fight seemed built on this difference in behavior: on one side, Julius's irritating elegance; on the other, Yuji's growing urgency, unable to accept being treated as someone predictable or inferior.
At one point, Julius managed to touch Yuji's guard and push him aside with a short but precise impact. The blood blade partially broke, reforming itself soon after, but enough to make Yuji grit his teeth.
That bothered him.
More than it should.
He hated the feeling of being guided by someone else's will. He hated the idea that Julius could decide the pace, the space, what was "correct" in a fight. And even more: he hated that the knight continued with that serene expression, as if Yuji was just another impulsive boy trying to reach someone above him.
That's when Yuji's irritation turned to fuel.
He advanced again, this time without worrying so much about form. The blood sword came tearing through the air in wide, aggressive cuts, forcing Julius to spend energy on defense. Then Yuji suddenly changed the flow, made the blood stretch like a rope and pulled the gun at the exact moment Julius was going to counterattack, messing up his timing.
"You really talk too much." Yuji growled, finally letting the anger show in his voice. And you act like you have the right to look down on me.
Julius blocked the next blow, but his eyes narrowed a little. He realized that Yuji had started to fight with another intention now. It wasn't just resistance.
It was resentment.
It was accumulated anger.
It was something that had already been growing since the arena, from the insults, from the contempt towards Emilia, from everything that the entire environment had been demanding of him without offering respect in return.
Yuji attacked with more force, using the blood as an extension of his own momentum. Each blow came close to becoming a real cut, each interruption tried to break Julius's impeccable posture. And every time Julius stood with that unbearable calm, Yuji became angrier.
The fight was no longer just about winning.
Now it was about not letting Julius leave that arena without understanding that that provocation had gone beyond the limit.
Julius realized that the tide of the fight was beginning to slip out of his control, and so he made the decision to end it with a decisive blow. The spirits around him aligned differently, the pressure in the air changed, and Yuji felt the instant the knight's posture became more serious.
"Al Clauzeria." Julius said.
The name of the technique came out with weight. It wasn't just an ordinary attack; it was a large-scale manifestation, a type of power that concentrated intent, spirit, and precision into a single instant of impact. Yuji understood right away that if he was hit hard by that, he could get really screwed.
He narrowed his eyes and analyzed the arena in a split second. Julius was ready to bet everything on that coup, but Yuji wasn't going to stand by and wait.
Instead, he acted the way he had been doing throughout the fight: finding a way to break his opponent's rhythm.
Yuji lowered his center of gravity and, with a quick movement of his hands, released his web of cuts onto the ground. The scratches spread across the surface like thin, dangerous marks, almost invisible in places, but charged with enough intent to alter the terrain of combat. To anyone watching from the outside, it might even look like part of some kind of earth magic, something that Yuji could easily claim to be a simple soil manipulation technique.
And that was exactly what he wanted.
"They'll imagine it's just earth magic." he thought, calculating the distance and the moment.
The confusion generated by the pattern of cuts began to take effect immediately. The ground beneath Julius lost stability. Small cracks opened, then widened, and the ground began to give way unevenly. The knight had to adjust his steps at the same time he was preparing to execute Al Clauzeria, and that was enough to break the perfect cadence of the technique.
Yuji took advantage.
The crumbling ground created a sequence of debris, rocks and loose fragments. He leapt over them with the lightness of someone who had already learned to fight in chaotic environments, using each piece of ruin as a platform to gain momentum. Julius tried to reposition the sword, but the space was no longer cooperating. The land had ceased to be his ally.
Yuji went down on Julius with everything he had.
The fist aligned perfectly, and Black Flash exploded at the exact moment of impact.
The effect was brutal.
The force of the blow went through Julius' defense and defeated him at once, making his body give way under the precise violence of the hit. The arena seemed to silence for a moment, as if even the environment recognized that the exchange had come to an end.
Yuji was left panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his body still vibrating with the residue of the blow. Julius had lost
But Yuji hadn't stopped yet.
Taken by the impulse of the fight and the accumulated anger, he was going to throw another punch. Not out of tactical necessity, but because the tension was still alive within him. The arm was already moving when, suddenly, he felt a shiver run down the back of his neck.
Something was wrong.
Before he could complete the strike, a hand placed itself firmly on his shoulder.
Yuji froze for a second.
He turned his face slowly.
It was Reinhard.
His presence, even without effort, completely changed the atmosphere around. There was no threat in the gesture, but there was enough authority to stop anything the very moment he decided to act. The knight looked at him with calm firmness, without hostility, just with the security of someone who knew exactly what was happening.
"It's over, Yuji Itadori."
End of Chapter 16