Sunday Morning
The sky was veiled in mist. Pale sunlight bled through the fog, as if yesterday's echoes of battle still lingered in the heavens. The cheers from the arena still rang faintly in my ears… as did the sight of Alex crashing to the ground.
But Nola's laughter, bright and innocent as she clutched my hand, dissolved the tension lodged in my chest—if only for a fleeting moment.
We walked together through the park. Her childish voice mingled with the grass and the morning breeze. That's when two familiar silhouettes emerged from the shadows.
"Well, well, look who it is…"
Simon Perk, his long hair fluttering in the wind, stood in front of me with a mocking grin. Beside him loomed Greg, as burly as ever. The contempt in their eyes chilled me.
"Our business isn't finished, Ren," Simon said, his voice low and venomous.
Nola shrank behind me like a frightened bird. She bit her lip, hiding her eyes from them.
I was about to respond—when I felt it.
A presence.
A cutting chill in the air.
Then a pair of icy blue eyes slid into my vision.
Arthur.
He appeared silently at my side, this time without a mask. His black hair spilled over his shoulders, his gaze sharp enough to pierce the mist itself. His voice held no tenderness, only command:
"Ren. Crush them. Do not hesitate. Leave standing no one who dares lay hands on our family."
My heart pounded. His eyes showed no doubt—only expectation. It was as though he had awaited this moment longer than I had.
I bowed my head. "Very well… brother."
Simon laughed. "Oh, look at that—did your pathetic E+ brother come to save you? You think he will scare us?"
Arthur's lips did not move. He simply inclined his head, eyes fixed on me. His meaning was clear: This is yours to do.
I stepped forward. Kneeling briefly to Nola, I whispered:
"Wait here, little star… trust your brother."
She nodded silently, clutching her stuffed bear tighter.
What followed was swift. One punch, one ring, one strike. Simon's arrogant face twisted into pain, Greg's brute confidence collapsed into helpless groans. Both writhed on the ground, their breaths ragged.
Arthur stood with his hands in his pockets, watching. A faint smirk ghosted across his lips—approval.
"That's it," he said at last. "A Dover never retreats."
An hour later we stood before the towering Galxicus headquarters. Its metallic glass facade blazed with sunlight, a fortress of ambition. Yet beneath my excitement, I felt a weight settle in my chest.
At the entrance, Samantha greeted us—but her eyes immediately fixed on Nola, whose hands were sticky with candy and ice cream.
"Ren!" Her voice cracked like thunder. "Is this how you bring back your sister?!"
I froze, tongue-tied, like a scolded child. Arthur, however, couldn't suppress his laughter.
"Don't be too harsh," he told her, still chuckling. "Though yes… he may have spoiled her a bit."
Samantha narrowed her eyes, then scooped Nola into her arms. "We'll discuss this later."
As we ascended in the elevator, the guild's power seemed to radiate from every wall. Yet I could also feel the fractures—the whispers of factions quarreling behind the fortress's polished face.
"One day you'll learn how to care for children too," Samantha scolded as she plucked the sweets from Nola's hands.
Arthur chuckled softly. "Let him be, Mother. He teaches fighting better anyway."
When the elevator doors slid open, silence fell.
Waiting there stood Martin Lorewik, smug as ever, with Alex Cloudburm swaggering at his side.
Martin's eyes flicked to Samantha, his smile false and polished.
"Well, what a coincidence… the whole Dover family together. Ronald, good to see you."
Ronald gave only a curt nod. Arthur leaned against the wall, his icy gaze locked onto Martin.
"Careful, Lorewik," he murmured. "You're underestimating the wrong people."
Martin's face tensed, but he quickly recovered, raising his voice for all to hear.
"Let's settle this properly. My son Alex will duel yours. In front of everyone. If your guild has any pride left."
Samantha bristled, ready to shout, but Ronald's steady hand calmed her. I stepped forward instead.
"I accept."
Arthur's gaze met mine. In those blue depths, a cutting light gleamed.
"Crush him. Show no mercy."
My heartbeat thundered.
"As you command… brother."
The guild's arena roared with thousands. The stands trembled with anticipation as the giant screens lit up with our names:
Ren Dover vs Alex Cloudburm
The referee's voice rang out:
"On one side, son of Guildmaster Ronald Dover, student of Lock Academy—Ren Dover!"
Applause thundered as I entered. My rings spun slowly into orbit, gleaming with mana.
"Go, Ren!" Samantha cried from the stands. Nola waved her tiny hands. Arthur remained silent—but his gaze alone bolstered me.
Then Alex strode in, spear in hand, basking in the crowd's cheers. Martin's pride gleamed across his face.
"I'll end this quickly," Alex sneered, slamming his spear against the ground.
"We'll see," I replied coolly.
"Begin!"
Alex lunged like an arrow, spear aimed for my heart. I lifted a finger.
—Snap!
A ring shimmered into existence, deflecting his strike and disrupting his balance.
I seized the opening.
—Crack!
The butt of my scabbard smashed into his nose, the sharp sound echoing through the arena. Blood streamed as Alex staggered back.
"You bastard!" he snarled, his body igniting with red mana.
The spear strikes came in a torrent—Clash! Clash! Clash!—but my rings absorbed each blow.
The crowd roared:
"Fight back!"
"Don't just block!"
But I stayed calm, defending, waiting. Let him break himself on his own impatience.
Arthur's first lesson echoed in my mind: Victory begins in the mind. And Alex's was already cracking.
"Fight me, damn you!" he shouted. "Stop hiding like a rat!"
I smiled. "Just as I wanted…"
Three rings stacked before me, forming a large shield with a tiny gap at its center. A trap.
Alex's eyes gleamed. "Ha! Found you!"
He thrust through the opening—only for me to slip aside.
—Thud!
My mana-clad fist buried itself into his gut.
"Guaaaaah!"
He collapsed, bile spilling from his lips. I stepped forward, pinning his face to the ground. My rings whirled around me, their pressure suffocating the arena.
"We are not of the same world," I said, voice cold as steel.
—Bam!
One last strike, and Alex went limp, unconscious.
Silence blanketed the arena. Then the referee's voice broke it:
"Victor… Ren Dover!"
The crowd erupted, chanting my name: "Ren! Ren! Ren!"
Samantha wept with joy as she clapped. Ronald exhaled deeply, relief written on his face. Martin's complexion turned ghostly pale.
And Arthur… he sat in the stands, watching silently. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Good," he murmured. "That's how it's done."