The next day arrived faster than he expected.
The city buzzed with whispers of the upcoming match. News spread quickly within the Guild: Rena the Crimson Fang had issued a direct challenge—and the mysterious outsider had accepted. Some called him a fool, others a dead man.
At breakfast in the inn, Shadow sat in silence as the trio gathered around him, unusually serious.
"Shadow," Lena began carefully, her hands folded on the table, "don't do this."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Ryn leaned forward, his usual cocky grin replaced with a frown. "Because you don't know what you're getting into. Rena's not just another fighter. She's been climbing the ranks for years. Even hunters at level 30 avoid her."
Sera chimed in, arms crossed. "She's brutal in the arena. Doesn't matter how strong you think you are—Rena's faster, sharper, and she fights like every match is life or death. You could die."
The gauntlets hummed with quiet defiance, but he ignored them, watching the trio instead. Their concern wasn't fake.
"…You're saying I should back down?"
"Yes," Lena said softly. "Please. Walk away. There's no shame in refusing. The arena thrives on pride, but pride gets people killed."
For a moment, silence hung heavy at the table.
Finally, he spoke. "…I can't."
Sera groaned and slapped her forehead. "Of course you'd say that."
He pushed back his chair, standing. "I didn't come here to prove anything. But if I run from her now, what's the point of these gauntlets? Of surviving until now?" His voice was calm, but his words struck firm.
Ryn let out a low whistle. "…You're crazy. But damn if that doesn't sound like something an arena fighter would say."
Despite themselves, the trio exchanged reluctant smiles.
Lena sighed, her eyes filled with quiet resignation. "Then at least promise us this—don't fight recklessly. If she pushes you to your limit… walk away alive. That's all I ask."
He gave her the faintest nod.
The gauntlets purred in amusement. "They underestimate us. Good. Let's surprise them."
That afternoon, the coliseum's banners were already flying, the stands filling with eager spectators. Merchants shouted bets, gamblers argued odds, and the announcer's booming voice prepared the crowd for blood and spectacle.
In the waiting hall, Shadow sat quietly, eyes closed, hands resting on the gauntlets. He didn't need cheers. He didn't need glory.
All he needed was the fight.
And somewhere in the distance, he could hear the name the crowd chanted like thunder—
"RE-NA! RE-NA! RE-NA!"
The stage was set.