"Are you going to go easy on him?" Nayomi's calm voice made Akamir look at her.
"Should I?" He mumbled.
"No." Nayomi replied, looking away. "Do as you please."
Akamir shrugged as he looked around.
The training grounds of the estate buzzed with excitement.
Guards, servants, and Veroen had gathered them all around the arena.
They whispered among themselves, looking at Akamir who stood at the center.
Facing a young boy who wore a cocky grin.
Kieran stood with his sword already unsheathed, twirling it once in his hand.
His blackish armor gleamed in the light, matching the confidence in his eyes.
Akamir stood across from him, cracking his neck.
"You look bored," Kieran said, his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. "I'll fix that."
Akamir didn't respond; instead, he looked at Darvin.
Vareon stood beside him, his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. "Make it quick, Kieran."
Darvin said nothing.
He stood slightly behind, his brows furrowed.
Not out of concern for his son—his gaze darted too often to the watching crowd.
'He is more concerned about his image than me.'
Akamir drew his blade slowly, a sleek, dark sword with an odd sheen that he grabbed before coming back.
It looked older than Kieran's sword—less polished, but far more dangerous.
"Try not to cry when I cut that smug look off your face," Kieran said, clearly hoping for a reaction.
Akamir raised an eyebrow. "Try not to wet yourself before I do it for you."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Even some of the guards from Polama snorted.
"Begin!" Vareon's voice boomed from the edge of the arena.
Kieran attacked instantly.
He dashed forward and swung hard at Akamir's shoulder, hoping to end things quickly.
Akamir shifted just enough to avoid the blow, then raised his blade to parry the next one.
Kieran slashed again and again, fast and brutal.
But Akamir blocked each strike with precision, barely moving his feet.
Kieran ducked and kicked Akamir hard in the ribs.
The hit connected, and Akamir stumbled slightly.
The crowd let out a gasp, but Akamir didn't fall.
Kieran smirked. "Not bad, huh?"
He raised his hand.
A glowing circle appeared in the air. "[Wind Snap!]"
The blast of wind struck Akamir square in the chest, forcing him back.
A thin line of blood trickled from his forehead where a sharp gust had sliced him.
Still, Akamir didn't seem angry or shaken.
He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand and stepped forward.
'Is this it?'
Akamir wondered, looking at the blood.
'Inara's magic was far more potent.'
"What?" Kieran sneered. "Cat got your—."
"You talk too much."
Akamir's blade moved in a blur.
He lunged and Kieran was barely able to deflect his sword; he quickly pivoted back.
"[Flame curtain!]"
A wave of flame rushed towards Akamir in the next instant.
Akamir's arms blurred as he slashed around him, shredding the flames like silk curtains.
Kieran's face changed as he realized he was being pushed back.
Akamir began to walk towards him unbothered.
Kieran snarled and slammed his palm into the ground. "[Stone Chain!]"
Thick chains burst from the earth beneath Akamir's feet.
But Akamir leapt into the air and twisted, swinging down with his sword mid-flight.
Kieran raised his weapon just in time to block the blow, but the force nearly drove him to his knees.
"Cheap tricks won't help you," Akamir said.
Kieran gritted his teeth and summoned another spell. "[Ignis Shot!]"
A glowing fireball zipped toward Akamir.
He met it with his blade, slicing through the flames.
His coat caught fire, but he didn't care.
Akamir dashed forward through the smoke, closing the distance before Kieran could cast again.
Driving the blade into his ribs, Akamir slashed sideways and made a shallow cut on his chest.
Kieran's eyes met his; the air of absolute confidence he usually exuded was long gone. He was worried.
And he was afraid.
Akamir moved once again, his hand blurred and a fist hit his stomach.
"UHH—!"
Kieran staggered, but before he could think, a hilt to the jaw made his mind numb.
Then a sweep of Akamir's leg knocked him flat on his back.
Kieran tried to cast another spell, but Akamir stepped on his hand, shattering it.
"No more spells," Akamir said. "Fight me properly. Or not at all."
Kieran's lip was bleeding. His pride even more so.
He got to his feet with a roar and swung wildly.
Akamir dodged one blow, then parried the next.
He was in complete control now.
His blade cut across Kieran's chestplate once again, leaving a deep mark.
A quick jab to the ribs made Kieran stumble.
Then, with one smooth spin, Akamir delivered a powerful kick to Kieran's chest.
Kieran flew backward and crashed into the ground. His sword clattered from his hand.
Akamir stood over him, breathing steady.
"Yield," he said calmly.
Kieran coughed, trying to sit up. "You—"
Akamir placed a foot on his chest, holding him down. "Yield."
He just glared at him.
Akamir applied more pressure and it wasn't long before Kieran's face morphed into pain.
"…I yield," Kieran gasped.
The arena fell silent.
Everyone stared.
Vareon's expression turned cold. Darvin watched without blinking, his face stoic.
Akamir stepped over Kieran and sheathed his blade. He didn't celebrate. He didn't smile.
He just walked away.
The crowd parted as he passed. No one dared say a word.
Vareon moved towards his son and bent down. "Get up," he muttered.
Kieran didn't move. His pride had taken more damage than his body.
Near the arena gate, Akamir stopped and looked back.
"Next time," he said loudly, "send someone who knows how to fight."
He walked on.
"You went easy on him," Nayomi said.
Akamir shrugged. "Had to. It was just a warning."
'But I don't think this will end this quickly.'
He was well aware of the mindset of the nobles.
They have so much pride that they can't even take any loss without dying.
But what Akamir was more worried about was how Darvin would react.
'Hopefully, he doesn't try to bother me.'
Akamir was in no mood to deal with one more headache.
"By the way, I don't understand a few things." Akamir mumbled, frowning as he looked at Nayomi.
She glanced at him. "Speak."
"I read that the Krivos kingdom was founded by an otherworlder." He said, looking at the girl. "How is that still the same from the novel?"
The butterfly effect.
Even a single thing changed in the past could alter the future in an unimaginable way.
Then...how?
How could the world be the same when there were so many otherworlderly people summoned in this world six hundred years ago?
'Wouldn't it make more sense if everything was different?'
"...That I'm not sure of." Nayomi mumbled, genuinely confused as well.
"From how everything is....it seems the world is indeed the same as the game."
"....You think the otherworlders made it this way?" Akamir asked, looking at her.
"Why would they do that?" Nayomi questioned staring back at him. "What would they gain from it?"
"..."
Akamir fell into deep thought as he thought about it, and the more he did, the less sense it made.
Nayomi floated quietly beside him, her brows slightly furrowed in rare uncertainty.
"The world is too detailed to be coincidence," Akamir murmured. "The cities, the histories....This is confusing."
Akamir groaned as he reached the main hall only to halt once again.
"Young master." Zia quickly walked towards him. "Come here. Meet with him."
Akamir quietly looked at the short man bowing towards him.
"Who is he?"
"I'm the tailor assigned to make your suit, young master." The man said, smiling brightly. "Can I please have your measurements?"
Akamir looked back at Zia. "What is this for?"
"It's your father-in-law." Zia replied, grinning widely.
"He wants you and lady Zaina to wear matching outfits."
Akamir sighed tiredly.