Felix sat on the ground, his leg bleeding profusely, looking up at Dain. The anger in Dain's eyes was unmistakable. His grip tightened on his sword, and with a growl, he moved closer, ready to finish what he had started.
Felix, despite the pain and the blood seeping from his wound, kept his calm, staring back with the same defiant smile he had worn throughout the duel.
Sylvara, her eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation, muttered softly, barely audible, "It's time." She stepped forward, her sword in hand, ready to intervene.
Then, in a blur of motion, Dain raised his sword, preparing to slash Felix down. But before the blade could reach its mark, Sylvara moved like lightning, her sword intercepting Dain's with a resounding clash.
With a firm push, Sylvara sent Dain stumbling backward, the force of her strike sending him crashing to the ground. She stood tall, her face a mixture of dissatisfaction and stern authority.
"You've broken my rules," Sylvara's voice rang out, her eyes cold. "The moment you let your emotions take over and made your rival bleed, you lost. A true warrior knows that victory isn't about the fight alone, but about maintaining composure. Anyone can swing a sword, but only a few are remembered as true warriors. Felix is the winner of this duel."
Felix, still sitting with a slight wince, raised his hand in objection.
"I object. It was my fault I lost. I got distracted, thinking I had already won." He grinned, his eyes glinting with a mix of humility and humor. "I accept my defeat."
Sylvara's brow furrowed.
"I reject your objection. My rule is clear: the first one to make the other bleed loses, no matter the circumstances."
Felix tried to stand, his legs shaky as he hobbled toward Dain. His hand reached out, offering a gesture of peace.
"But you said it yourself," Felix smiled warmly, his golden eyes soft. "I could've given up at any moment. And you helped me more than you think." He extended his hand to Dain, who hesitated but still looked up at him.
"I already lost when I let my ego take over. I was distracted, and I couldn't protect myself."
Dain stared at Felix, confused, but then Felix's warm smile grew brighter, more sincere.
"Come on, stand up. You won. You don't need to question it."
Sylvara watched, her stoic expression giving way to a small, approving smile.
"Felix, you're quite the charmer," she said with a quiet chuckle, though her eyes were filled with a mix of admiration and slight surprise. "If you're giving up on the match, I'll announce the winner."
Her voice rang out over the arena, clear and commanding:
"The winner is Dain!"
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. The noise was deafening, but Felix just turned his back, his expression serene and at peace as he began walking toward the exit.
"I don't accept this cheap victory," Dain's voice called out from behind him, filled with confusion and frustration. "What's the meaning of this? You just give up?"
Felix stopped, a wide, genuine grin spreading across his face as he turned back to face Dain.
"I told you, my friend—sometimes it's better to let fate decide."
Dain's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Fate? What do you mean by fate?"
Felix's smile widened, almost as if he were enjoying the moment.
"It means, sometimes... it's better to accept what you get and not question why. And if you dig deep enough, you might find an answer that you don't want to hear—one that might make you hate your victory."
Felix turned again, walking toward the exit without looking back.
Sylvara glancing at Felix from behind , interesting guy .
Dain stood there, still processing what Felix had said, the weight of the words sinking in slowly. He clenched his fist around his sword, but it did little to calm the turbulence in his mind.
Outside the Arena
As Felix made his way toward the exit, Sylra caught up with him, panting slightly.
"Hey, wait up! Heads up—you fought really well. Don't be too hard on yourself."
Felix looked at him, his expression entirely at peace, his usual smile on his face.
"Why should I be sad?"
Sylvara caught up too, raising an eyebrow.
"You don't hate losing?"
Felix thought for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm, is it always like that? The thing is, what we see as losing... might actually be someone else's winning. If my loss helps make someone else better, then so be it."
Sylra blinked, completely confused.
"What do you mean by that?"
Felix grinned, his eyes glimmering.
"Let me think... you'll understand when the time comes." He shrugged and turned to leave. But then, as an afterthought, he stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"Hey, Sylra, do you have any healing potions for my wound? If you do, could you spare some?"
Sylra's face softened.
"Yes, I do. Just wait." He turned and began rummaging through his pack for a healing salve.
Meanwhile, Back in the Arena
Dain sat alone, staring down at his sword, his grip tightening. His face was a mixture of frustration and confusion. He didn't feel victorious. Not really. The words Felix had spoken to him echoed in his mind, but the anger in his heart still boiled beneath the surface.
"You are not happy." A voice whispered to him, almost as if it were a thought rising from his own subconscious.
His grip tightened even more around the hilt of his sword.
"I'll never be happy until I take my revenge... fair and square."
His eyes burned with a cold, unwavering determination, the weight of Felix's words clashing with the fire that still raged inside him. Victory... did it really matter ?