As Enshou stared up at the darkening sky, lost in thought, a guard approached—the one tasked with escorting the winning seven to the medical center. He paused when he noticed Enshou just standing there, eyes fixed on the clouds.
"Hey, sir," the guard called out, breaking the silence. "The king ordered a check-up for all finalists. Please, right this way."
Snapping out of his daze, Enshou gave a small smile, brushing off his thoughts. Maybe I'm just overthinking things... no need to get tense, he reassured himself. He gently smacked the guard's back. "Sure thing, buddy. Lead the way."
The guard let out a long sigh, clearly exhausted, and turned to guide him.
As the seven contenders headed out, the pavilion slowly emptied. The once-roaring crowd dispersed, people returning home for a night's rest in preparation for tomorrow.
Aingo stood up, stretching. "We should get going," he said, turning to Rider, who hadn't moved. "It's getting late."
Rider didn't answer immediately. He seemed deep in thought. After a moment, he spoke. "Let's check on Bianca first."
"Huh?" Aingo raised a brow.
Rider looked a little embarrassed but continued. "I mean… they didn't know they'd be spending the night here. And she's the only girl among them. I just want to make sure she's okay with it."
Aingo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Seriously? Mind you, there's a tournament coming up—you need to train."
"But why?" Rider shot back, his tone a mix of frustration and honesty. "It's not like I'm in the tournament. Shouldn't we wait to see who wins, then plan how to beat that specific person? Training randomly won't make me stronger overnight."
Aingo clenched his jaw. He hated to admit it… but Rider had a point. After a beat, he sighed in defeat. "Fine. But I'm not going to the contenders' quarters just to check if some chick is okay. I'm going home."
With that, he turned and walked off.
Rider watched him leave for a moment, then quietly made his way toward the medical center—hoping to catch a glimpse of Bianca and check if she was alright.
As Rider neared the medical center, two soldiers blocked his path, their expressions confused. "This area is for contenders only," one said, eyeing him with suspicion. "You don't have access."
Rider tried to explain, his frustration bubbling up. "But I—"
"No buts," the first guard cut him off, sternly. "You need to leave."
Anger surged through Rider as he turned to walk away, but before he could take a step, the second guard stopped him. The man stared at Rider for a long moment, his eyes widening in realization. Without warning, he slapped the first guard hard on the back of his head. "You moron! This is Rider Dran's son."
The first guard blinked in disbelief, rubbing the spot where he'd been hit. His face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly bowed to Rider. "I—I'm sorry."
Rider, flustered, waved his hands in a panic. "It's no problem, really," he stammered, desperate to avoid further attention. After a moment's hesitation, the guards stepped aside, allowing him through.
Inside, Rider walked through the contenders' area, his every step weighed down by the sharp gaze of those around him. It felt like the eyes of the entire room were drilling into him, each stare a silent judgment. He tried to ignore it, but the tension gnawed at him. His heart pounded as he searched for Bianca.
Finally, he spotted her.
Through a glass window, Rider saw Bianca lying on an operating table. His breath caught — her stomach was gruesomely sliced open, and doctors were frantically stitching her back together. His eyes widened in horror, and a cold fury gripped his chest. His fists clenched, trembling.
As he stood frozen, struggling to process the bloody scene, Tusk and Rebel walked up behind him
"Don't worry, she'll be fine," Tusk said. "The doctors said if the stitches are done immediately, she'll pull through. It's just...a painful process." Tusk continued
Rider turned, startled. He hadn't even noticed their approach. He stared awkwardly, at a loss for words — he'd never met them before.
Forcing something out, he stammered, "Oh, umm...I..."
Tusk quickly caught on to the tension and scratched the back of his head. "My bad. Name's Tusk," he said with a quick nod. "And this here's my brother, Rebel."
Rider gave a small, awkward smile. "I know," he said. "I watched the tournament... I just—wanted to thank you both. If it weren't for you... Bianca wouldn't have had a chance. So..."
He bowed deeply. "Thank you."
Tusk blinked, looking around nervously to see if anyone was watching. "No need for that, really," he said quickly. "It was all Rebel not me."
Rider straightened up as Tusk continued, changing the subject. "Your match was impressive, though. You took that guy out — him and his sword — in one shot. Pretty scary, right, Rebel?"
He elbowed his brother lightly. Rebel just frowned, glaring at Rider before muttering, "I slept halfway through. Watching ants fight isn't entertaining."
Tusk shoved him to the side, apologizing under his breath.
Then, from the nearby bench, Zack stood up and walked toward them.
"He's right, you know," Zack said, making everyone turn toward him. His voice was cold. "If you struggled against that idiot... you're not even worthy of standing here."
The hall fell silent. Rider clenched his fists, swallowing down the anger burning in his chest.
Enshou opened his mouth, trying to say something to ease the tension, but Rider spoke first, locking eyes with Zack.
"I know I'm weaker than all of you. I get it," Rider said, voice steady. "But that doesn't change anything. I'll prove this tournament means nothing — because I'll beat the winner and become the Sword Master."
A vein twitched in Zack's forehead. His calm snapped.
"Like hell you will!!" Zack roared, stepping forward. "Nothing's written in stone! And even if you're Dran's son — I'll still crush you and take the title for myself!"
The room froze, everyone staring in shock. Zack, who was always cold and composed, had exploded.
"Wow," Valon said under his breath.
Without another word, Zack turned sharply, storming toward the doors. He slapped them open and disappeared down the hall, leaving Rider standing there — facing the others, fists trembling but eyes burning with determination.