The roar of the arena still lingered through the palace corridors like distant echoes, yet behind the heavy stone doors leading to the knights' quarters, a tense silence reigned—like the stillness before a storm.
Gray entered with steady steps, his breath still hot from the duel, beads of sweat gleaming on his brow. He lifted his gaze, sharp eyes scanning the wide chamber filled with warriors from across the realms. Some polished their armor, others sharpened blades or exchanged banter with comrades.
But the moment he stepped in, dozens of eyes turned toward him—some cold, some dripping with mocking curiosity. Whispers sliced through the air:
— "That's the boy who felled Roderick?"— "Pure luck… a blind strike."— "He won't last. You'll see."
Gray feigned indifference. His hand tightened around his leather belt as he strode toward an empty bench along the wall.
Then, heavy footsteps cut him off.A broad-shouldered knight, well-known for his loyalty to Prince Darius, stepped into his path. His arrogant smile curved like a blade.
— "Well, well… the new hero. Do you think you're one of us now? A true knight of renown?"
Gray raised his eyes, voice low and even:— "I'm here to fight. Not to talk."
The man let out a cruel laugh and took a step closer, their chests almost colliding.— "Fight? Boy, your place is in the stables—not among knights."
His heavy hand shoved Gray's shoulder hard, sending him stumbling back. For a heartbeat, silence gripped the room. Then, chuckles rose from a few of the seated knights.
But Gray did not retreat. He straightened, eyes locked on his aggressor. His voice was cold, almost a whisper:— "I warned you."
His fist snapped forward like lightning, crashing against the man's jaw. The knight toppled backward over a wooden table, sending cups shattering and bread and meat scattering to the floor.
Chaos ignited. Chairs clattered, startled shouts erupted. Two more knights lunged at Gray—one grabbing his arm from behind, the other aiming to drag him down.
Gray twisted sharply, driving his elbow into the ribs of the one holding him until a painful crack sounded. In the same motion, he raised his leg high and slammed a brutal kick into the chest of the second, sending him sprawling against the stone wall.
The room boiled over. Some knights sat wide-eyed, others scrambled away to avoid being caught in the brawl.
Three more attackers rushed in at once. Gray met them head-on. Fists, knees, and boots collided in the tight chamber. Another table splintered under the weight of bodies. Metal dishes clanged to the floor, and the thud of bodies against stone filled the quarters like the echo of a hidden battlefield.
Blood trickled from Gray's nose, yet the fire in his eyes never dimmed. Each ragged breath fell into the rhythm Kin had drilled into him—inhale, exhale, steady, unbroken. Amid the chaos, he whispered like an oath:— "I'll drop you all. One by one."
He kneed one opponent in the gut, dropping him with a choked gasp.
Then—silence.
The heavy wooden door creaked open. Slow, deliberate footsteps entered, each one carrying an air of command.
A tall man stepped inside, half his armor undone as if its weight meant nothing. His dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, his face unreadable, but his eyes… sharp, cold, cutting like twin blades of shadow.
It was Kota.
The knights who had attacked Gray froze instantly, shrinking back as if children caught in mischief. None dared to speak. Even the air felt trapped, stifled in the room.
Kota's boots pressed against the stone floor with an ominous rhythm as he approached. He stopped directly before Gray. Their eyes met in silence, a clash fiercer than any blade.
Gray's lip was bloodied, his body aching, but his stance did not falter. Feet planted firmly, gaze unwavering, he faced Kota with a new, unshakable resolve.
At last, Kota's lips parted, his voice cold as frost:— "I'll be waiting in the arena. Don't keep me bored."
He turned, walking away with the same calm authority, leaving behind a suffocating weight in the air.
The door closed. Only then did the others dare to breathe. Some of the aggressors slumped back in silence, avoiding Gray's gaze.
Gray dropped onto the bench, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. A faint, defiant smile curved his lips. His body screamed in pain, but his spirit only grew sharper.
Inside, a single thought rang clear:— "Kota… so you're my next opponent."
Beyond the quarters, the roar of the announcer echoed, calling the crowd to the next match.
Gray's eyes gleamed with iron resolve. The real battle had yet to begin.
End of Chapter