The Omega Knight's Secret Baby Daddy is A PRINCE?!-Chapter 67: Thirty Seconds.

Ezra was dumbfounded.

Truly.

For a brief moment, he had no words.

He simply stared at Aurien’s smiling face.

Ezra wasn’t—

He didn’t—

He...

Yes. No.

He had no idea what was happening inside his own head.

It felt as if his thoughts had scattered, as if something had quietly switched off in his mind. And it did not help that Aurien was still looking at him, calm and patient, as though waiting for a response.

Any response.

But Ezra had long mastered the art of composure.

Surprise. Discomfort. Anger. None of it showed unless he allowed it to.

It had been drilled into him.

Control your expression. Control your breathing. Control the narrative.

It was useful.

Very useful.

Right now, it was the only thing saving him.

’I need to say something,’ Ezra thought. ’If I stay silent any longer, I will look like an idiot.’

Ignoring him would be worse.

Especially when Aurien did not look teasing.

He looked sincere.

And that was the problem.

It would be easy to brush off a joke.

It was harder to brush off something that felt... intentional.

Aurien had always tried to approach him.

Openly.

Since the day Ezra had saved him years ago.

But this was different.

This was not subtle.

Not shy.

Not hesitant.

This was direct.

And, somehow—

Charming.

’What exactly are you doing?’ Ezra wondered, pulse still annoyingly unsteady.

For the first time in a long while, Ezra Belloren did not know how to respond to the battlefield called emotions.

Or whatever corny crap was happening right now.

’Come on, Ezra. You have survived countless battles. You survived parenthood. You can survive this.’

Ezra kept staring at him.

Still thinking.

Still weighing his options as if this were a tactical decision instead of a simple response.

Should he answer with equal charm?

Should he brush it off with a joke, the way he would with Helios?

Or should he remain as he always was?

Calm. Controlled. Slightly distant.

Maybe cold.

’I do not even know how to flirt,’ he admitted inwardly. ’Why am I even considering it?’

Wait.

Since when was flirting even on the table?

This was not flirting.

Was it?

Why was that the first word that came to mind?

He was comfortable with his close friends. With Helios, teasing came naturally. Half the time Helios did not even realize the weight of his own words. With the knights, command was instinct.

Clean. Direct.

Yes, there had been heart-stopping moments in battle.

Moments where death brushed too close.

But this?

This felt different.

Maybe because it was not Helios.

Maybe because Aurien seemed fully aware of what he was saying.

Every word is deliberate.

Every glance measured.

And the strangest part was that Ezra did not dislike it.

He felt awkward. Yes.

Out of place. Certainly.

Yet something in him wanted to respond properly. Not with dismissal. Not with practiced indifference.

’I want to be more open,’ he realized quietly.

The thought startled him.

Just hours ago, he had decided to remain amicable with Aurien for information. For strategy. For necessity.

But now?

He was actually enjoying his company.

This version of Aurien, at least.

Confident.

Sharp.

Amused.

’It has been more than three minutes,’ Ezra thought, aware of the silence stretching. ’Say something. Anything.’

"Well–"

Before he could force out a reply, Aurien spoke again.

"Looks like I really do owe you a drink," he said, lighter this time.

Ezra blinked.

"For what—"

Then he noticed it.

The silence.

No clash of steel.

No boots scraping.

No grunts of effort.

He turned.

The platform had gone still.

"My back... fuck..."

"We give up."

"Us too."

The voices were strained.

Winded.

Knights stood breathing heavily, blades lowered. Some were on one knee, tapping the stone in surrender. Others had stepped back entirely, clutching ribs or shoulders.

Most of them were in pain.

Only two teams remained upright and unyielding.

Team A.

Team F.

The rest were either kneeling, catching their breath, or standing aside with lowered weapons and bruised pride.

Ezra’s gaze moved between them slowly.

Guy stood at the front of Team A, chest rising evenly despite the intensity of the fight. Sweat ran down his temple, but his stance remained firm, grounded. There was no wobble in his footing. No hesitation in his grip.

Perrin stood with his team a short distance away. He wiped the blood from the corner of his lip with the back of his hand, expression unreadable. His breathing was controlled. His eyes were sharp.

Both of them looked ready.

As expected.

Ezra did not look surprised.

’Of course, as expected.’ he thought. ’They controlled the field from the start.’

They had not been the loudest fighters.

But they had been the most aware.

They had dominated without chasing it.

Aurien leaned slightly closer to him.

"We will continue this conversation later," he whispered.

Later.

The word lingered longer than it should have.

Ezra’s pulse skipped again.

’Stop reacting,’ he told himself.

Before he could respond, Aurien stepped forward toward the two remaining teams.

Perrin wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened.

"So," he asked evenly, voice steady despite the fight, "what are we supposed to do now, Your Highness?"

Guy glanced between Aurien and Ezra before speaking.

"Yes," he added. "What is the next rule?"

There was no arrogance in his tone.

Just readiness.

Aurien clasped his hands behind his back once more. His posture was relaxed, almost too relaxed for someone standing before two teams that had just proven themselves.

"You will be given a choice," he said calmly.

Guy lifted a brow.

"A choice?"

The air tightened again.

Different this time.

Aurien’s hand rested on the handle of his sword, not drawing it, just holding it.

It was subtle.

Intentional.

He gestured lightly with his chin for Ezra to follow.

’Is it time to fight?’ Ezra wondered, stepping forward behind him. His own hand settled naturally on his sword’s handle. Not tight. Not tense. Ready.

They stopped a few paces away from Team A and Team F.

"You can fight us now," Aurien said evenly.

The words landed without drama.

Direct.

Then he tilted his head slightly.

"Or..."

’Or?’ Ezra blinked faintly, eyes narrowing just a bit.

"You can fight each other to assure that you will get the flag," Aurien continued calmly. "It is your choice."

Guy’s brows furrowed.

"With all due respect, Your Highness," he said, voice steady but guarded, "what is the point of giving us this choice? We already knew these were the options."

Aurien’s expression did not shift.

"Did you?" he asked softly.

Guy did not hesitate. "Yes."

"Then choose."

Aurien’s gaze moved between both teams.

"You saw each other fight. Team A. Team F." His tone remained composed, but there was something sharper beneath it now. "You saw how you dominated. Even the remaining teams are watching."

He gestured toward the knights still kneeling or standing off to the side.

"They are anticipating this fight," Aurien added. "Because you are the strongest among the six."

The air seemed to thicken.

Ezra could feel it.

Pride.

Expectation.

Pressure.

Aurien glanced sideways at him briefly.

"Do you not have a saying, Captain?" he asked. "Something along the lines of... there can be multiple strong people, but there will always be the strongest?"

Ezra’s lips pressed together slightly.

He had said that many times in the past.

To his knights.

To himself.

He gave a short nod.

"There can be two strongest among six," Aurien continued, turning back to the teams. "But only one can stand above the rest."

The silence stretched.

Then—

"However..."

Aurien’s smile grew.

It was subtle.

But unmistakable.

"The two choices I gave you are the obvious ones," he said. "Fight us. Or fight each other."

He paused just long enough for them to consider it.

"But what if I mix it up?"

"Mix it up?" Perrin repeated slowly, eyes narrowing.

Guy’s grip on his sword shifted.

’Yes,’ Ezra thought. ’What does he mean?’

His gaze flickered briefly to Aurien.

’What are you planning now?’ A question Ezra felt like he has been asking a lot.

Aurien’s smile did not fade.

Without warning, he pulled the flag from his side and threw it.

Not gently.

Not ceremoniously.

He tossed it straight toward Guy.

Gasps broke out across the platform.

Guy reacted on instinct, catching the flag midair before it could hit the stone.

Silence followed.

Complete.

Even the injured knights seemed to forget their pain.

Aurien’s hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword.

"If you take that flag and attempt to run off on your own," he said evenly, his voice calm but unmistakably serious, "I will stab you through the thigh and make sure you do not attend tomorrow’s mission."

No one laughed.

No one breathed.

Guy froze, still holding the flag.

Ezra did not flinch.

’He is not joking,’ Ezra thought. ’But why did he throw the flag then?’

There was no anger in Aurien’s tone.

Just a fact.

Perrin’s eyes flicked from the flag to Aurien.

"You are giving it to us?" he asked slowly.

Aurien nodded once.

"Team A. Team F. Protect the flag."

The words were simple.

Direct.

"Because Captain Ezra and I," Aurien continued, glancing briefly at him, "will be coming to retrieve it."

A ripple of disbelief ran through the remaining knights.

"You are... what?" one of Team A’s members muttered.

"You can either work together to make sure we don’t, or fight each other now for the flag. But one thing isn’t going to change. We will also be trying to retrieve it."

Aurien shifted his weight slightly.

"We will give you a head start again." he added.

"Your Highness...this isn’t part of the rules–" Guy was about to interject.

"What rules?"

Guy couldn’t answer.

"Your Highness, this doesn’t seem–"

"Thirty..."

Aurien starts counting, and Ezra could only watch in fascination as both teams’ eyes widened.

"Y-Your Highness–"

"Twenty-nine...."

Ezra exhaled slowly, staring at the confused faces.

"I think you should start running now."