After I slashed Pearson’s right arm, he was left crying and holding his face in pain. That black liquid he used wasn’t even his own blood—it was the Duke’s. Mixed with deadly poisons, it was the most toxic kind.

Pearson screamed in rage and charged at me like a wild boar, swinging his sword madly. But his attacks were slow and sloppy—I easily dodged them. I knocked his sword away and pointed mine at his neck. Pearson froze, terrified, then collapsed to the ground, unable to move.

“Why… why can you stand… you don’t even have powers…” he mumbled.

The referee began the countdown. Just as he was about to declare me the winner, Pearson’s mother suddenly screamed, demanding the match be stopped. Then the Duke himself stepped in, saying he couldn’t accept the result and requested an investigation.

I wasn’t surprised. The Duke wanted to sabotage my win however he could.

He accused me of cheating, claiming the liquid in my sword wasn’t my own blood. But Rosette, watching from the stands, shouted that I’d already confirmed it with the officials before the match. She warned them they’d take legal action if the slander continued.

The Duke then accused me of not reacting to Pearson’s poison, saying it proved I must’ve used tricks. Calmly, I told him none of it mattered—and that I’d prove everything right there.

I picked up Pearson’s sword, opened the hidden compartment, and drank the poison in front of everyone. Nothing happened. The crowd gasped.

“You see?” I said. “Your poison doesn’t work on me. I’ve been building immunity for nine years by injecting your undiluted blood since I was twelve.”

The Duke stood frozen.

Finally, to end it all, I cut my arm. Black, poisonous blood flowed out, burning the stone floor. My hair turned a deep purple—darker than Pearson’s.

The Duke fell back in shock.

“How do you have that hair and blood?” he stammered.

I held out my bleeding arm.

“Because I was the true heir of the Venomine family.”