Ian, sitting atop Kraven's chest, beat him, his hands soaked in blood, splattering his torso and face. Everyone at the scene watched the scene in shock; Ian didn't stop, and at the same time, Kraven's manic laughter contrasted, a macabre echo among the trees. Ian, even so, was absorbed, enraged, trapped in an abyss of fury, and didn't stop hitting him.
A few steps away, Makia watched with eyes wide with horror; tears streaked down her cheeks as she ran toward him. She knelt beside Ian, grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him, and screaming through sobs, begged him:
"Ian! Ian! Please… stop!" with her voice broken by weeping, it resonated like a desperate whisper amid the chaos and violent scene before her. "Don't fall into his game, you're better than this, please…" Makia said.
But Ian didn't hear. Immersed in an abyss of fury, he kept hitting. Kraven, with his face destroyed, laughed; his laughter rumbled like a macabre echo in the jungle. And then Kraven looked at the sky, extended his arms, like one welcoming, and at that moment a crack in the sky opened.
A crack like breaking glass ran through the air. The animals in the jungle hid; the leaves trembled. Everyone looked up.
First, two figures materialized in the sky, crossing through the crack, and fell like heavy lightning, sinking the earth on both sides of Ian. The ground trembled.
To the right, Kurt Kaiserfeld rose: fine features, macabre smile, short platinum blond hair, silver eyes that seemed empty of soul, and black armor that exuded menace. His figure was slender and tall, and each of his movements seemed a lethal whisper.
To the left, Elena Malatesta appeared: toasted brown skin, long dark brown hair pointed to the waist. Her prominent chest stood out in black armor, sleeveless and low-cut, sensual and dangerous at once. Her green eyes, sharp as a feline's, were hard to ignore, radiating devastating beauty mixed with an aura of death.
Both raised their arms, ready to discharge their force on Ian's back, who was sitting right on top of Kraven beating him. But before the blows could fall, Kael's waters and Aelius's gravity rose at once, enveloping them, stopping them slightly. Even so, these two figures were nothing more and nothing less than Monarch Generals, and it was impossible to stop them.
Ian, gasping, reacted and understood instantly. His gaze met Makia's, and without thinking, he jumped toward her. They rolled together to get out of danger's center.
Everyone in the jungle trembled. These three's faces were not unknown to anyone in the entire empire. After all, they were Monarch Generals, the highest and most powerful rank in the imperial army.
Kraven, staggering, stood up. Wiping the blood from his face, with a crooked smile, he stood between Kurt and Elena. He turned, and now, before mere aspirants, three Monarch Generals who were rebelling against the empire aligned themselves.
In the imperial box, chaos erupted.
Tiberius struck the railing forcefully, the black gold ring cracking against the wood.
"What the hell is happening?!" he shouted furiously.
Auron, pale, exclaimed:
"Damn murderous traitors! They think they can betray the empire and play with young people's lives, with their dreams! It's unacceptable."
And in his mind, a single thought pierced his chest like a knife: Daughter… survive. Stay with Alistair's son. Don't leave his side. Please…
Then, two more figures emerged from the crack. A slender woman, with an angelic face, long blond hair and blue eyes that looked almost divine. At her side, a young man, with pointed white hair and blue eyes also almost divine. Both wore metallic celestial armor, with golden metallic wings and white capes. They were Seraphim, the highest rank in the Archangel Fortress, rank equivalent to a Monarch General.
These, upon obtaining this title, abandon their names to bear that of Seraphim. They were Uriel and Gabriel, standing in the sky, looking down as if they were gods. Behind them, emerging from the crack, monarch captains, lieutenants, supreme sergeants, sergeants and high-ranking officers. There were also cherubim, thrones, among other ranks of the Archangel Fortress.
It was an elite army against new aspirants, without titles, without anyone who could defend them. It was impossible to win and survive.
In the imperial box and in the stadium, voices fell silent. The nobles paled. And everyone understood the same thing at the same time—the exam no longer existed:
The imperial coup d'état had begun.