Novel's Extra: I Awakened The Strongest Physique From The Start

The hallway seemed to narrow as Velmar stepped closer, each step echoing like a challenge struck into the marble.

His guards flanked him, all clad in red and silver, clearly expecting trouble, or perhaps hoping for it.

"Do you think," Velmar began, voice smooth and sharp, "that just because you've charmed her with that brooding face and rebel attitude, you understand what it means to stand beside royalty?"

Alex didn't answer.

Zahara stepped forward, but Velmar lifted a hand without looking at her. "Please, Princess. You've always had a kind heart, even to strays. But this... this is beyond pity, isn't it?"

Lilia made a sound—half a snort, half a growl—but Mira gently caught her arm.

Alex hadn't said anything yet, and Mira, knowing Alex, was sure he wasn't going to stay quiet forever.

Lilia also knew it but couldn't tolerate how the guy talked.

The silence, however, wasn't broken.

Velmar's smile faltered slightly at the hush. His gaze sharpened, the facade cracking just a bit.

"I remember when you first arrived at the palace, Princess," he said, turning his eyes to her, his voice suddenly gentler. "You were still learning to control your fire... and your anger. You burned through three handmaidens and nearly incinerated a statue. But you never lost your kindness. Even when everyone mocked you for your temper, I stood beside you."

Zahara's expression remained unreadable.

"I was the one who brought you the fire lilies from the volcanic springs every winter. I studied court etiquette for months to match your pace in the seasonal dances. I—" His voice cracked slightly. "I stood by you. Always."

He could still recall it perfectly.

But it was different for Zahara.

"You followed me like a creep," Zahara said softly. "It's not the same thing."

Yes. To Zahara, it was creepy.

A flicker of pain crossed Velmar's face, but it was gone in a blink, replaced by cold arrogance once more.

"Then maybe I followed you into the fire so you'd see I could survive it, and I'm worthy. Not this outsider who shows up with a sword, a smirk, and women orbiting him like stars."

He turned back to Alex, his voice growing venomous.

"What are you really here for, outsider? Her hand? Her throne? A place in a world that isn't yours?"

Alex's gaze remained steady. "You sure talk a lot about tradition for someone challenging a guest of the court without permission."

Velmar's fingers tightened around his hilt. "Tradition demands I do something. You walk around like you belong. But you haven't bled for this kingdom. You haven't waited for years. You haven't been told again and again that you're not good enough—only to keep trying."

His words fell into a silence thick with old wounds and unspoken truths.

And Zahara... Zahara looked away.

She looked away because she knew what he was referring to.

Velmar had proposed to her many times during their childhood, but never had she told him no; she only told him to get better.

It was because she had wanted to get rid of him. Unfortunately, that never happened.

So, she felt guilty about it. But she didn't want to face it, so she turned away.

Velmar saw it and understood what she did. And something inside him snapped.

"I request the Rite of Fire," he declared, louder now. His voice carried down the corridor like a gauntlet thrown at the gates of war. "By ancestral law, by noble blood, I challenge this outsider in a public duel."

Gasps echoed behind the guards. Even Lilia blinked.

Not many knew of the rite, but any noble knew.

In some places, it was called the rite of darkness, some water, and some fire, but the meaning behind it was the same.

It was a duel with honor on the line.

"You're serious," Zahara said, her tone deadly calm.

"I've never been more," Velmar replied, though something behind his eyes flickered—fear, perhaps, or something less noble.

Alex studied him.

Something was off. Too convenient. Too theatrical.

Velmar was desperate, yes—but not stupid.

He was sure this guy wasn't stupid enough to pull a challenge like this when tensions in the court were already running high.

Unless... someone was counting on chaos.

Or planning something behind the scenes.

Above all, he arrived right when they were leaving the courtroom, and he knew where they were, even though no one knew about it.

Still, Alex gave him one last out.

"You don't want to do this," he said.

Velmar bared his teeth. "I've wanted this since the moment you touched her hand."

Alex sighed—and took a step forward.

"Fine. I accept."

Zahara turned sharply toward him. "Alex—"

But he met her eyes, calm and resolute.

"I know."

She paused.

He knew she wasn't worried about him losing. She was worried about why he was accepting. And that something else might be waiting in the shadows of this staged humiliation.

Velmar grinned like a man who thought he'd already won. "Then we meet tomorrow. At dawn. In the Circle of Flame."

He turned on his heel, cloak flaring behind him. His guards followed, their steps like war drums fading into the distance.

Only when he was gone did Zahara speak.

"He's not stupid."

"I know," Alex said quietly.

"That means someone's pushing him. Or promising him something."

"I know."

Lilia looked between the two of them. "So why accept it?"

Alex cracked his neck, smiling faintly. "Because I want to see who comes to watch."

Mira, still holding his sleeve, tugged it once.

He looked down.

She met his eyes.

"…be careful," she whispered.

He almost said, 'Always.'

But he didn't need to.

They walked the rest of the way in silence—through firelight, into tension, and toward a duel that promised more than just blood.

.........................

The next day.

Dawn cracked open the sky like a slow-burning ember, painting the clouds with streaks of gold and crimson.

The Circle of Flame—a stone arena set into the mountainside behind the royal palace—had long since awakened.

The carved obsidian ring, scorched from centuries of duels, shimmered under the morning light. Faint runes pulsed at the edge, waiting to seal the combatants in.

It was meant for honorable challenges.

But today, it felt more like bait.

A hushed crowd had gathered in the terraces, wrapped in robes, whispers flickering like candle flames.

"That's the outsider?"

"He looks... handsome."

"Yeah. It's no wonder the princess seemed close to him. Anyone would fall for a guy like him."

Reganath stood near the front, arms folded, a rare scowl creasing his normally aloof expression.

"He shouldn't have accepted," he muttered. "Not like this. Not now."

Bahir, beside him, raised a brow. "You doubt him?"

"I doubt the setup," Reganath replied. "This smells like a trap. Velmar doesn't have the spine to do this alone."

There was no way Reganath would doubt Alex. After all, he could tell that Alex was very strong now.

Kael leaned on the edge of the railing, watching Alex with gleaming interest. "Trap or not... this should be entertaining."

Lilia stood silently, her purple eyes locked on Alex as he entered the ring. She had braided her hair for the first time in a while, wondering what would happen.

Mira stood beside her, arms crossed, back stiff, eyes refusing to blink.

And Zahara...

She stood at the highest edge of the ring, just below the royal pavilion. Cloaked in red, her hair undone, and her face unreadable.

She watched Alex like someone watching the edge of a knife—knowing it could cut both ways.

Velmar entered from the opposite side, clad in ceremonial dueling armor—light, etched with flame motifs, and an ornamental cape sweeping behind him.

The crowd shifted.

"That's Lord Velmar's fifth duel. Never lost one, has he?"

"Nope. I remember him winning every duel."

"But the other guy... I somehow feel he would win."

Alex stepped into the arena without a word. No armor. Just a black combat tunic, his hands wrapped, his gaze set.

He didn't need anything else.

The judge—a robed elder with a voice like smoke—stepped into the center.

"By the law of blood and flame, the Circle now seals," he intoned. The runes lit up, a red dome shimmering over the arena, silencing the crowd outside.

"Let it be known," the judge said, "that honor will be decided here. No interference, no retreat. To forfeit is to yield one's pride. To lose is to concede one's claim."

The elder stepped back.

Velmar drew his blade with a flourish, fire licking the edge.

"Last chance to kneel, outsider."

Alex rolled his neck. "You're really into this drama, huh?"

Velmar snarled—and lunged.

He moved fast. Faster than most would expect from a noble.

His first strike carved a crescent of fire through the air, exploding toward Alex.

But Alex didn't dodge.

He stepped into the flame.

Gasps rang from the outside of the barrier as smoke swallowed the field.

Then—bang!

Velmar stumbled back, choking, blood spraying from his lip.

Alex stood in the clearing smoke, a handprint burned into Velmar's chestplate, his eyes cold.

"Next time," Alex said, "put something behind it."

The crowd murmured.

"Did he just walk through fire?"

"He hit Velmar without a weapon—!"

"Who is this guy?"

Reganath leaned forward. "That's Alex," he muttered. "And he's not playing anymore."

Velmar wiped his mouth, fury igniting in his eyes. "You dare—!"

He dashed forward again, this time faster, every strike now wild, heavy with emotion. Fire licked at the arena as he channeled his inner flame, blade flashing like a comet.

But Alex ducked. Parried. Countered.

Every movement was efficient. Brutal. Controlled.

"You know why you can't beat me?" Alex asked, slamming his fist into Velmar's side. The impact cracked his armor and sent him skidding.

"It's not because I'm stronger. It's because I don't care who you used to be to her."

Velmar roared and launched into the air, channeling fire into a spiraling blade arc.

Alex looked up—and vanished.

BANG.

A blur. A step. A flicker.

And then Velmar was on the ground, Alex's foot on his chest, the blade knocked from his hand.

The runes around the ring pulsed.

Silence.

Outside the dome, Kael let out a low whistle. "He didn't even draw a weapon."

Reganath exhaled. "It's over."

But the judge hadn't spoken yet.

Because Alex wasn't done.

He leaned down slightly, voice low. "You wanted to stand beside her, Velmar? Then stand up and stop blaming others for not choosing you."

Velmar didn't move.

The barrier shimmered and dropped.

The judge raised his hand. "By flame and law—Alex of Originveil is the victor. Honor upheld."

The crowd erupted—some cheering, some stunned into silence.

Zahara closed her eyes momentarily, then looked at Alex with something unreadable in her gaze.

Mira let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Lilia cracked her knuckles. "Told you he wouldn't lose."

In the shadows of the terrace, however, a man in a dark robe stepped back from the railing and disappeared into the corridor behind the seats.

He was watching and smiling, and before he left, he had clicked a red button-like thing he had been holding.

What was that for? Everyone would know in less than a few seconds.