The prince of Qardon sees it.
The instant the weapons are revealed—the white-silver glint of Solven's daggers, the obsidian-blue shine of Gresren's shield—his smile freezes.
His eyes narrow, and for the first time… there's real surprise.
No—a hint of unease.
"That pressure…" he murmurs, voice low.
He doesn't move.
He just stares, sword lowered slightly, gaze flicking between the glowing weapons now lighting the battlefield like war torches.
"That's not Tier 5… Also not a Tier 6" he says again, softer this time. "That's Quasi Tier 6."
Velira, panting, nocks another arrow. Blood drips from her temple, but her eyes gleam.
"Oh?" she says with acid in her voice. "I thought this was boring?"
The prince doesn't answer immediately.
Instead, he clicks his tongue once and finally looks at her—not with the amused, superior confidence of before, but with narrowed eyes.
"Your clan is really going all out this time."
He steps back once.
For the first time since the battle began.
