The echoes of the tournament still lingered through the stone corridors of the royal palace. The scent of steel and faint smoke drifted in from the coliseum, mixing with the cold air of morning. In a sunlit corner, several advisors and senior guards whispered among themselves, their voices low but charged with disbelief.
One wiped sweat from his brow, muttering,— "No one expected the fourth prince to move like that… that jump—how did he even do it?"
Another, flipping through a stack of reports, replied,— "Four years gone, and he returns like a different man. The grace, the confidence, that bold display in front of the court… He's nothing like the timid prince we once knew."
From the balcony above, Prince Leon sat with one leg crossed over the other, watching them in silence. His thoughts drifted back to the old image of Kin—quiet, withdrawn, a shadow among brighter brothers. But the man who stood yesterday in the arena was someone else entirely: a symbol of rebellion and nerve.
Leon smirked faintly to himself."Kin has changed… far more than I thought."Then, forcing his face back into calm neutrality, he murmured,— "Not now. Let the dust settle first."
Across the chamber, Darius stood by the window, his fists clenched, jaw tight. The fury in his eyes burned hotter than the morning light spilling across the marble floor. Every part of him screamed the same thought:"I won't let this pass… not this time."
Beyond the palace walls, the capital pulsed with life. Markets overflowed, messengers darted through the streets, and news flew faster than arrows. But the talk of the city wasn't politics or royal decrees—it was the sight everyone had witnessed the previous day.
The boy who defied the odds.The prince who leapt from his throne.And the moment a commoner became a royal knight.
At the grand bazaar, a group of merchants clustered around a baker's table. One of them, voice loud and incredulous, exclaimed,— "Did you see it? A village boy defeats a trained fighter, then gets knighted by a prince himself! What kind of times are these?"
A mother nearby, her children tugging at her dress, smiled softly.— "Doesn't matter who did what… something's changing. That jump—when the prince came down from his royal seat to the ring… no one will forget that."
In a nearby guild hall, craftsmen exchanged sharper words.— "It's not just the jump. Naming that boy as his personal knight—that breaks centuries of custom."— "Or reshapes it," another countered, eyes gleaming.
In the taverns, between mugs and dice, whispers took a darker turn.— "You think this was just impulse? No… there's more beneath it. The fourth prince plays a deeper game."
Still, one phrase kept resurfacing through the chatter, repeated like a prayer:"His will… that boy's will was something else."
The tale had already outgrown the truth—it wasn't merely about a duel, but about defiance. A prince's leap, a boy's stand, a broken tradition. Hope for some, fear for others.
Inside Kin's private chamber, the chaos of the outside world felt like a distant storm. The air was still, lit by a single chandelier casting a pale glow across maps and parchment strewn over his desk.
Gray entered quietly, his steps hesitant. Behind him followed Marvin, the ever-loyal aide who had stood beside the prince during the entire match.
Gray bowed deeply, his voice trembling with sincerity.— "Your Highness… I don't know how to thank you. I'll owe you this for the rest of my life."
Kin's faint smile was unreadable—neither mockery nor kindness, but something testing, deliberate.— "I haven't given you anything yet," he said evenly. "Opportunity isn't granted—it's taken. If you want something, prove it. Not with gratitude… but with effort."
Gray's expression shifted; gratitude melted into resolve.— "My mother and little sister… I'm the only one who can change our fate. I'll work, fight, and endure—because no one else will."
Kin's gaze lingered on him, thoughtful. Then he leaned forward slightly and spoke in a quiet tone:— "Tell me about them."
Gray hesitated for a heartbeat, then answered firmly, his voice steadier now:— "A small house in a distant village. A tired mother, a sister who dreams of books. Our roof leaks, our floor creaks, but when I left, I told them I'd come back and build something better. I own nothing… except this will to prove I can."
The words hung in the air like heavy iron. Kin didn't smile, but he didn't look away either. After a long pause, he placed a hand on Gray's shoulder—a silent gesture that felt more like a challenge than comfort.
— "Very well," he said at last. "I'll give you the chance—not as a gift, but as a trial. You'll be under my wing… but a wing won't shield you unless you prove you're worth keeping."
Marvin took a step forward, hesitating before he spoke.— "Your Highness… if you truly mean that, Gray won't just be a personal knight. He'll be a symbol. You're planning something, aren't you?"
For the briefest moment, Kin's lips curved into that sharp, fleeting smile of his. He turned toward the window, gazing out at the sunlit city.— "Let time decide who gambles… and who begs. For now—work begins tomorrow."
Gray remained seated long after they left. His eyes fell upon the sword lying beside him—Kin's sword—and for the first time, he truly felt its weight.
Not as a gift.But as a promise.
He wrapped his fingers around the hilt, and though the burden was heavy, a strange calm filled him. The path ahead would be brutal, uncertain… yet within that uncertainty, he found something unbreakable: purpose.