The aide strode into the arena with arrogant, measured steps, his lips curled into a smirk dripping with overconfidence. He lifted his chin high, basking in the crowd's expectant stares, savoring the anticipation of a swift and humiliating end for his opponent. Whispers rippled through the audience—some scoffing with laughter, others murmuring with certainty:
"The boy won't last a minute… this match is already decided."
On the opposite side, Gray stood rigid, sweat streaming down his forehead despite the chill in the air. His eyes betrayed his unease, and his hands trembled as he clutched the hilt of his sword with all his strength, as though trying to pour his willpower into the steel itself. It wasn't the weapon he feared… It was a failure. The thought of falling, just as everyone expected him to, gnawed at his heart.
From the stands, Ken leaned back in his seat, his sharp eyes fixed on the scene below. A faint smile played on his lips, one that held both calmness and intensity. Unlike the rest of the crowd, he knew this fight wouldn't unfold as simply as they believed. He wasn't looking for strength or skill… but for something far deeper, proof that resided in the soul.
The aide raised his sword with ease, his mocking grin never wavering, then barked out with scorn:
"Boy! No one will blame you if you fall quickly. Your place is among the spectators, not the knights."
Gray gave no reply. He only stared back with trembling eyes, then planted his feet firmly against the ground, clinging desperately to what remained of his resolve.
Suddenly, the aide lunged with blinding speed, his sword cutting through the air in a brutal sideways strike meant to end the match instantly. The sharp blade whistled as it came crashing down toward the boy. The spectators gasped, some already squeezing their eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable outcome.
But Gray, driven purely by instinct, bent his body at the last moment. The strike missed, grazing over his shoulder and slamming against the wooden floor with a loud crack. The arena erupted in collective shock.
"He dodged it…?!"
The aide stepped back half a pace, his brows furrowing in irritation before twisting into a mocking grin.
"Not bad… looks like your body refuses to fall too soon. Fine then, I'll make you kneel slowly."
As his words dripped with arrogance, Gray panted heavily, his chest heaving like war drums. Yet within him, a different fire ignited. He no longer heard the aide's scorn or the crowd's laughter. Instead, he felt only the pounding of his own heart and the silent scream echoing through his soul:
"I won't fall… I won't give in… I came here for them… for my family… to bring something back that could give them a better life…"
His grip tightened around the sword. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, and the look in his eyes had transformed. No longer fearful, no longer desperate—it was the gaze of a boy who had sworn to fight until his very last breath.
From his seat, Ken's lips curled into a sharp smile, a shiver of excitement coursing through him. At last, he had found what he was searching for… that pure resolve, unshakable by any blade.
the chapter ends here.