Eric's heart pounded as fear clawed through him. In seconds, his past replayed vividly, sending a chill down his spine.
"Mama! Mama, it hurts. Mother! Where are you?"
5-year-old Eric cried for his mother while running through a dense, dark place. There was nothing to see. Nothing to touch. Nothing to reach. Just plain darkness.
As if it was waiting for him to swallow him whole. A long time after the suffocating darkness and the screams that sounded like the cries of hell, he saw light.
But it wasn't the light of the sun but the shine of the moon. It was a full moon. His baby eyes stared at the first glimpse of light until the pain hit him.
"No. I can't allow him to fight in this arena." Eric's trance broke as he heard Nashia's voice.
He shook off the past replaying in his mind. It wasn't the time to dwell on the past. He stared down at the arena, unsure if he even remembered how to hold a sword properly.
But the nobles will look down on him more if he ducks out like this. At first, he didn't reply as he thought she would take care of it. But his jaw tightened as Duke Deluah commented again.
"Your majesty, it will be an injustice to his skills if you just keep it as a showpiece. Let him have fun. Also, our knights aren't that cruel to hurt his highness."
His tone was almost convincing if his sarcastic smirk didn't give it away. Nashia's frown deepened at his persuasion despite her firm denial.
Her expression didn't falter even under the pressure, but her silence spoke louder. Eric felt that was the silence before the storm. So, he gathered his courage to hold a sword after all this time.
Even though he last swung a sword probably 12-13 years ago, muscle memory and knowledge never fade.
The training he once had still burned in the back of his mind like a cruel reminder of what he had lost.
"Your majesty, if you don't mind, I don't mind sparring with one of them for a little while," Eric spoke up with a polite smile.
Leaning closer, she whispered, "Don't be too arrogant, Consort. This isn't Zenith — I won't save you if you fall."
"I won't. Just give me a chance, your majesty. I believe your knights reflect the discipline you command."
"Don't come crying once you fall back hard." She glared at him before looking forward.
"Your majesty?" Duchess Lancaster murmured, sensing the upcoming storm.
"Then be it. Who wants to fight against him? Enter the arena."
Nashia surprised her with approval. Sauveur, the ever composed knight he was, also had to turn his gaze to her decision.
The sky was dim as always. The air was filled with the cheers and excitement from the spectators. Eric rose from his throne and descended the stairs. Each step was heavy and quiet.
Even though he was nervous, he carried himself with endless elegance and unwavering poise. He was smart enough not to let his enemy see through his weakness.
Surprisingly, it was Sir Lavrov who volunteered. The tall and muscular physique of Valoric overshadowed Eric.
Nashia's fingers tightened around the armrest of the throne as she saw Valoric entering the arena.
"Your majesty, are you sure we should let this happen?" Duchess Lancaster leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"He insisted, and I merely approved. Not my problem to handle." She replied, masking her obvious tension for him.
Valoric was confident, and why won't he be? He just won the toughest competition a few moments ago. He entered the arena with a confident smile on his face.
He was eager to showcase his skills and see how Eric would fare against him. He took out his sword and shield as he stood ready.
Eric also picked up a sword and entered the arena. A tense atmosphere filled the arena as everyone was curious to see the outcome of the battle.
The spectators went silent as they stood their ground. The silence hung heavy in the arena. It broke into gasps the moment their swords clashed against each other.
The first swing was from Valoric. Eric received the blow with the flat of his blade.
In that instant, he turned the edge toward Valoric, leveraging around his blade and thrusting at the gaps. It was a basic thing he had practised during his childhood.
Eric's heart was beating crazily as he swung his sword toward Valoric, but he swiftly avoided the blow and did a counterattack. Pushing Eric toward the edge of the battleground.
His feet struggled to stay locked. His back nearly tipped toward the water stream circling the arena. One wrong move and he will be down.
Valoric's armour gave him extra weight and power in their struggles. Eric pushed him back with all his strength, as he was not willing to be stuck there for too long within his reach.
Taking note of his movement, Valoric raised his sword to serve a blow. But Eric dodged his attack. He turned back and moved toward the middle so that he could push him off the edge.
"Tsk. Not bad, your highness. You're slippier than I expected."
Valoric wanted to unleash all the rage and hatred he had for humanity on Eric. However, he tried to ignore these feelings and focused.
Eric was just another enemy in battle, one of countless, and he deserved no thought save for his neutralisation. It might be a chance to take revenge for his deceased brothers.
Their blades locked again. Valoric pressed him down once again, and Eric stepped aside. The fight was getting complicated by the passing seconds.
Eric has started to sweat from this intense match. He was lucky to still have his sword in his grip. But his hand was trembling by now.
He reminded himself of every technique he could recall. Trying to use them to stand on his own for as long as possible.
Of course, it wasn't flawless since he lacked the physical strength and practice. But still standing, maybe on sheer luck. This led Valoric to go nuts, wanting to take down Eric soon.