Chapter 53: Who Holds the Power!

As Cecil crossed the arena centre, the blue‑white runes had faded completely. The triangular platform vanished, and the three boundary lines dissipated slowly like watermarks left behind by receding tide, leaving only dark‑grey stone brick flooring. He walked toward the eastern zone, Gwendolyn perched on his shoulder, her tail resting along the edge of his collar, her blue eyes gazing calmly ahead.

Vera stood at the border of the eastern zone, Lena leaning against her side. Martha squatted behind them, adjusting the leather sheath of her battle‑axe. Eamon leaned against the wall, Silver‑Eye folding its wings and resting on his shoulder. Seeing Cecil approach, Vera did not step forward to meet him; she merely shifted her body slightly, making half a space for him.

Cecil halted two paces away from her. Vera unslung the leather pouch from her waist, untied its drawstring, and poured the fragments into her palm. Seven dark‑gold fragments lay spread across her hand. Their patterns resonated with one another, their curved edges fitting together to form a continuous arc. Cecil pulled his five fragments from his pocket and set them down on the stone platform beside her.

Twelve fragments sat side by side. The platform glowed with a faint cold light, and the dark‑gold lustre of the fragments swirled gently beneath it. Vera pushed several pieces toward the centre, her fingertips tracing along their rims. The curved edges locked into place one after another, like a scattered jigsaw puzzle slowly being reassembled. Cecil knelt down to help adjust their angles. When his fingertips brushed the fragment edges, he felt a faint tremor, the weak pull of magnetism between two approaching magnets.

Once all twelve fragments were fitted together, a nearly complete circle formed on the platform. Only one small gap remained, roughly one‑eighth of the whole circle, like a moon with a bite taken out of it. The rim of the gap was smooth, the patterns broken off cleanly.

Vera stared at the gap for a moment, then glanced toward the northern side of the arena. Cecil followed her gaze. Leon stood on the open ground between the western and northern zones, the dark leather pouch still hanging at his waist. He held one last fragment. Victor stood beside him, his deep‑purple bat perched on his shoulder, its dark‑brown eyes fixed on them.

Vera stood upright and jerked her chin toward Leon. "He has the last piece. Add it, and the circle will be whole."

Cecil rose to his feet. He glanced at Gwendolyn; her tail brushed lightly against the back of his neck, and she said nothing.

Vera did not go to retrieve the fragment herself. She stayed where she was, hands on her hips, and called out toward Leon. "Leon. Hand over your fragment."

Leon did not move. He stood watching the incomplete circle on the platform, his ice‑blue eyes deep in the dim light. His Thunder Gryphon crouched at his feet; the lightning on its golden feathers had died away entirely, leaving only the soft natural sheen of plumage. Victor turned his head and muttered something to him, his voice too low for Cecil to catch.

After listening to Victor, Leon fell silent for several seconds. Then he unfastened the pouch at his waist and pulled out one dark‑gold fragment. He did not walk over. He simply held it up for Vera to see.

"The fragment is with me," Leon said. His voice was not loud, yet it carried to everyone present. "Fit it into place, and the circle will be complete. The gate will open."

Vera looked at him. "What are your terms?"

The corner of Leon’s mouth twitched, barely perceptible. "I offer no conditions. Give you the fragment, open the gate, and everyone gets a chance to leave."

He paused, shifting his gaze from Vera to Cecil, holding it for a heartbeat before returning to Vera.

"But I have one question," Leon said. "Once the circle is assembled, who gets to decide who leaves? The rules state the holder of the complete fragments has final authority. The pieces are on the platform now — who holds them?"

A hush fell over the area around the stone platform. Vera did not answer at once. She looked down at the fragments, already shaped into a circle despite the missing piece. If Leon’s fragment was added, the circle would be whole. But who would possess it once it was assembled?

Martha stood up from behind them, her rough voice cutting in. "You put the circle together, Vera. That makes you the holder."

Eamon remained leaning against the wall. Silver‑Eye shifted its wings on his shoulder. "The rules speak of ’participant in possession of all fragments’. Once the fragments form a circle, do they count as a single entity?"

Victor stepped forward from Leon’s side. His deep‑purple bat spread its wing membranes slightly on his shoulder. "The answer is simple. Whoever places the final fragment becomes the holder. The last piece is in Leon’s hands. If Leon sets it down, he is the one holding the complete circle."

Vera turned to look at Victor, her amber eyes narrowing in the dim light. "You have thought this through rather well."

Victor shrugged, that familiar faint smile on his lips. "I am merely stating the rules."

Cecil stood beside the platform, staring at the incomplete circle. Gwendolyn stayed on his shoulder, tail draped over his nape, blue eyes fixed on the fragments.

"They are all wrong," Gwendolyn whispered, her voice so quiet only Cecil could hear. "The rule says ’participant in possession of all fragments’. Not ’the one who assembles it’, but ’the one who holds all fragments’. Even when fitted into a circle, each fragment can still be picked up individually. If you take the circle apart, ownership reverts to whoever originally held the pieces."

Cecil murmured, "So whoever takes the circle apart gets to keep all the fragments?"

"Whoever places the final piece and then disassembles the circle can claim everything," Gwendolyn replied. "But once broken apart, we do not know whether the scattered circle can still open the exit. The rules give no answer."

Cecil fell silent. He looked at the twelve dark‑gold curved pieces locked together, their patterns merging into one full circular design. The gap’s edge was smooth, as if a slice had been cleanly cut from a whole round disc.

Leon stood at the western zone boundary, still holding the fragment aloft. He did not approach, nor did he lower his hand. His gaze flicked back and forth between Vera and Cecil, then he spoke, his voice a little lower than before. "I can place the fragment. But I have one condition — after it is set, Cecil must be the one to take the circle apart."

Every pair of eyes turned toward Cecil at once.

Vera’s eyebrows lifted. Martha slid her battle‑axe back into its waist sheath and shot Cecil a look. Eamon’s posture against the wall did not change, yet his gaze drifted away from Silver‑Eye to Cecil. Victor’s smile widened, as if amused by this twist.

Cecil met Leon’s eyes. Leon stared back, his ice‑blue gaze as calm as a winter lake in the dim light. His hand holding the fragment did not shake, nor did he press for an answer. He simply waited.

"Why me?" Cecil asked.

Leon’s mouth twitched. "Because you hold the fewest fragments. If you take everything apart and claim all pieces, you will have six total, including mine. Vera has seven. I have one. If Vera takes everything, she ends up with eight. If Victor takes everything, he has one. Your total is six, Vera’s is eight, mine is two. When you hold all the pieces, the balance is the easiest to calculate."

Cecil paused. He understood Leon’s logic. Leon did not want Vera to gain full control, nor Victor. So he chose the person with the smallest number of fragments to act as disassembler. Cecil held five pieces; with Leon’s added, that made six. If Cecil disassembled the circle and seized all fragments, Vera’s original seven would no longer belong to her — once the circle was broken, ownership went to whoever picked up the pieces.

"You don’t want her to have it," Cecil said.

"I don’t want anyone to have it," Leon answered. "Yet the rules demand someone must hold it. So I pick the person least likely to be targeted."

Vera stood beside the platform with her arms crossed, saying nothing. Her amber eyes moved between Leon and Cecil, then she spoke, her voice lowered. "Very well. I agree."

Martha frowned behind her. "Vera‑"

"He makes sense," Vera said, her gaze never leaving Cecil. "Whoever disassembles the completed circle becomes its holder. Cecil has the fewest fragments. If he takes it apart, at least we can keep an eye on him. If I do it, Leon and Victor will both be watching me, which would be far more troublesome."

Eamon pushed himself off the wall. "Then Cecil will disassemble it."

Victor raised both hands in a gesture of non‑objection.

Cecil stood before the platform, gazing at the incomplete circle. Gwendolyn’s tail brushed gently against his shoulder. Her voice was soft, only for him. "I will stay close to you. If the fragments behave abnormally, I will sense it."

Cecil nodded. He held out his hand toward Leon.

Leon walked over and placed the final fragment into his palm. It felt warm and solid in his grasp, its edge patterns matching those on the platform perfectly, its shape aligning exactly with the gap. Cecil stepped to the stone platform, bent down, and fitted the last fragment into the circle’s opening.

The instant it clicked into place, a burst of dark‑gold light flashed across the platform. It blazed bright for roughly two seconds before fading away. The circle was complete. Twelve fragments locked perfectly together, their patterns forming one unbroken ring, like a giant coin resting on stone. Radiance seeped from the finished circle, spreading along the platform’s edges and casting a dark‑gold rune pattern across the arena floor.

The dome’s metallic chime rang for the very last time.

"Complete fragments assembled. Exit generating. The holder may select up to six participants to depart together."

The voice paused, then repeated itself in a tone of confirmation. "Holder, please make your selection."

Cecil’s hand still rested on the fragment rim. He could feel a thin, neutral temperature on its surface, neither hot nor cold, like a chair arm after someone had just stood up. He lifted his head and scanned the crowd. Vera stood before him, Lena behind her, Martha and Eamon on either side. Victor and Leon stood to the west. Freddy, Lydia, Oliver and Edwin waited in the north. Gwendolyn had hopped down to his feet, her blue eyes fixed on him.

Six people. The rules allowed a maximum of six to leave.

Cecil’s hand remained on the fragments, motionless.