The memory had a way of returning at the worst times. It came to him now as he sat alone, preparing himself before the trials. His body was here, older, stronger—but his mind drifted back to when he was just a boy.
He was seven. Rain hammered down against the crooked roof of the orphanage, pouring in through cracks in the wood. Aiden sat on the cold stone steps, his thin shirt soaked through, his knees tucked up tight against his chest. His teeth chattered, but he didn't dare go back inside. He didn't want them to see the tears.
From the hall beyond the cracked door, voices carried. The caretakers never cared that the children could hear them—maybe they thought the words wouldn't matter. But Aiden remembered every syllable.
"He's too reckless," one woman sighed. "Always running, fighting, climbing where he shouldn't. I don't know what to do with him."
"He's a troublemaker," another muttered. "That boy doesn't have the discipline to amount to anything."
A third voice, low and sharp: "Some kids just aren't meant to rise above. Not everyone is born for greatness."
The words fell like stones. Aiden pressed his fists to his ears, but they still echoed, worming into his chest, heavier than the rain that clung to his skin.
He had wanted to scream. Wanted to prove them wrong right then and there. But he was small. Powerless. Just another forgotten child.
Instead, he lifted his face to the storm. Lightning split the sky above, and in that violent flash of light, something burned itself into him. A vow, forged in thunder.
"I'll prove them wrong," he whispered, his lips trembling, his voice drowned by the rain. "I'll prove I'm the best."
Even now, years later, standing tall in the arena with the roar of the crowd around him, he could still feel the boy inside—the boy who had nothing but fire in his chest and a promise on his tongue. That memory was his fuel. That boy was his shadow.
And he swore he would never let him down.
🌙 Scene 2 – Bonding with Lila
The training hall was empty except for them. The torches on the walls flickered low, their light painting long, trembling shadows across the floor. Aiden sat against the wall, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his neck. His body ached from hours of drills, but his mind refused to quit.
Footsteps echoed softly, and Lila appeared carrying two bottles of water. Her braid had loosened from the day's training, strands of hair falling over her cheeks. She tossed a bottle at him with casual ease.
"You're going to collapse one of these days," she said, lowering herself to the floor beside him. Her voice was teasing, but her eyes betrayed her worry.
Aiden caught the bottle and gulped down half of it, water spilling down his chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smirked. "Not until I win."
Lila raised an eyebrow. "That's all you think about, isn't it? Winning. Proving yourself."
"That's the point," Aiden shot back, staring at the floor. His knuckles tightened around the bottle. "If I'm not the best, then… what am I?"
For a moment, there was silence. Only the crackle of the torches filled the hall. Then Lila leaned her head back against the wall and let out a soft breath.
"You're Aiden," she said quietly. "The boy who gave me his blanket the night the dorm was freezing. The one who stayed up with me when my father was sick, even though you had your own training at dawn. The one who never lets anyone feel like they don't matter. That's who you are."
Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. "You're already more than enough. But if you keep running like this, chasing some finish line that doesn't even exist, you'll lose the part of you that matters most."
Aiden stared at her, stunned. Lila had always been his anchor, his steady voice in the storm—but hearing her speak like this, so raw and certain, made something in his chest twist.
He wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that being the best was everything. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, he found himself staring at her eyes—steady, determined, glowing in the dim torchlight.
For the first time in a long while, he had no answer.
⚡ Scene 3 – Confrontation with Ethan
The courtyard buzzed with tension. Students had gathered in clusters, whispering, waiting. Aiden stood at the center, shoulders squared, eyes locked on Ethan Vale.
Ethan's grin was sharp, all teeth and arrogance. "You think you're better than me?" he sneered, stepping closer. His voice dripped with mockery, but there was a challenge beneath it.
Aiden's jaw tightened. "I don't think. I know I can beat you."
The crowd gasped, murmurs spreading like wildfire. Ethan's eyes narrowed, the grin twisting into something darker.
"Big words for someone who's barely scraping by," Ethan said.
"Better than hiding behind your arrogance," Aiden snapped back. His voice was steady, louder than he expected. "At least I don't need to tear others down to feel strong."
The air crackled between them. For a heartbeat, it seemed fists might fly. Ethan's hand curled into a fist, his shoulders tense. The crowd leaned forward, hungry for a fight.
But then Ethan laughed. Not his usual mocking laugh—this one was short, sharp, almost surprised. He loosened his fist and shook his head.
"You've got guts," Ethan said, his tone shifting ever so slightly. "I'll give you that. Maybe you're not as useless as I thought."
Aiden blinked. The words weren't praise, not exactly. But they weren't an insult either. It was something else. A recognition.
The rivalry didn't cool—it burned hotter. But it was no longer just anger. There was respect buried in it now, unspoken but real. Both of them knew it: neither could afford to fall behind the other.
And in that moment, Aiden realized something strange—Ethan wasn't just an enemy. He was the wall Aiden had to climb, the shadow that forced him to grow.
🌌 Scene 4 – Reflection with Marcus
The training ground was deserted, the night sky stretched wide above them, stars scattered like spilled light. Aiden's breath came ragged, his muscles trembling as he forced himself through another set of drills. Sweat glistened on his skin, his vision blurred—but he didn't stop.
Marcus Reed stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with his usual sharp gaze. He let the boy push himself to the edge before finally speaking.
"Why do you want this so badly?"
Aiden froze mid-motion, chest heaving. "To be the best," he said automatically, the answer drilled into his bones.
Marcus shook his head. "That's an answer. But not the answer." He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. "Being the best doesn't keep you warm at night. It doesn't silence doubt. It doesn't stop loneliness. So again—why?"
Aiden opened his mouth, then shut it. His throat tightened. The truth pressed against him, raw and heavy: Because they said I'd never be anything. Because I'm terrified they were right.
But he couldn't say it aloud. Not yet.
Marcus studied him, his eyes softer now. "When you find that answer, Aiden, you'll stop running in circles. Until then, no victory will satisfy you."
The words sank deep. Aiden looked down at his hands, scarred and shaking, his reflection caught in the faint shine of sweat. He had spent so long trying to outrun the boy in the rain, the boy who swore to prove them wrong.
But maybe… maybe this fight wasn't about proving himself to others. Maybe it was about proving himself to that boy.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and for the first time, he wondered if being the best was really enough.