Dawn trudged toward the riverbank, his entire body aching like it had been thrown into a grinder. His clothes were scuffed, his gray hair hung messily over his forehead, and his fingers still tingled from the countless clashes earlier in the day. Yet, despite it all, he wore his usual nonchalant expression—though the sluggish way he moved betrayed just how exhausted he truly was.
The river shimmered under the pale glow of the moon, its surface disturbed only by the occasional ripple. And as expected, in her usual spot, Luna sat upon a smooth stone, bathed in silver light.
Luna sat waiting, arms crossed, her silver hair catching the soft glow of the water. The moment she laid eyes on him, her brows furrowed.
"You look terrible," she observed, tilting her head.
Dawn sighed dramatically and flopped onto the grass, staring up at the stars. "I will take that as a compliment. Thanks for that."
Luna arched a delicate brow. "That wasn't a compliment."
Dawn groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But still, it's good to hear your voice after the absolute nightmare of a day I've had."
She gave him a patient look. "What happened?"
Dawn exhaled and stretched his arms before rolling onto his side, propping his head up with one hand.
"You wouldn't believe it," he began, voice laced with mock exasperation. "So, the moment the competition started, someone tried to cut me in half. Not metaphorically. They actually swung a sword with the clear intent of separating my upper body from my lower body. Crazy, right?"
Luna remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"Then, as soon as I barely managed to get out of that one, another guy came in swinging a spear. You'd think he was trying to poke holes in me like I was some kind of test subject. And believe me, he was persistent."
He stretched his fingers as if recalling the sensation of deflecting rapid thrusts.
"And just when I thought, 'Hey, maybe that's the worst of it,' along comes a giant of a guy with a mace the size of my head. And you know what he wanted? To smash me into paste. Just like that. No finesse, no elegance—just raw, brutal force. Can you imagine?"
Luna stared at him for a long moment. Then, to his absolute horror, she smiled.
"And here I thought you had it easy," she mused. "Clearly, you're too soft. Maybe next time, they'll come up with something more creative."
Dawn groaned. "I came here for sympathy, not mockery."
"Then you came to the wrong person."
Despite himself, he chuckled. The tension in his shoulders eased, if only slightly.
Luna sat beside him, her gaze shifting toward the shimmering water. "So, how did the fights actually go?"
Dawn sighed again, this time more genuine. "I won the first three fights, but I was barely holding on by the end. After that... "
Luna's gaze flickered. "And after that?"
Dawn's smile turned a little sharper. "After that, I got annoyed. So, in a demented retaliation, I went around challenging anyone I thought looked annoying. Fought until the sun nearly set." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't even know how many matches I ended up in."
Luna nodded knowingly. "And yet, you're still standing. That counts for something."
Dawn hummed in agreement. But deep down, he knew that simply standing wouldn't be enough.
Tomorrow, the real battle would begin.
---
The competition continued with relentless intensity. Every day, Dawn stepped onto the battlefield, and every day, he left with new scars, new bruises, and new lessons carved into his very bones.
---
Day Two:
Dawn entered his first match with confidence, only to have it shattered within minutes.
His opponent, a student wielding twin sabers, danced around him with impossible speed. No matter how he struck, his attacks were dodged or deflected. His whip form was useless—his opponent was too fast to be caught.
He was defeated without landing a solid hit.
The next few matches weren't much better. He won some, lost more. Each fight exposed another flaw in his technique. His lack of raw strength, his slower reactions, his inability to break through stronger defenses.
By the end of the day, he wasn't just exhausted. He was frustrated.
---
Day Three
If he couldn't match his opponents in strength, then he had to surpass them in something else.
That realization marked a turning point.
Instead of relying on brute force, he started to read his opponents, to predict their movements before they made them. He watched for shifts in their stance, the way their energy pulsed before an attack.
His instincts sharpened.
Against a spear-user, he used his whip form to control the distance, punishing every overextension.
Against a sword-wielding powerhouse, he baited attacks and countered with his handguard, deflecting just enough to create openings.
By the end of the day, he was winning more than he was losing.
But his victories were always narrow, always hard-fought.
And the gap between him and the strongest students remained.
---
Day Four:
The fourth day was brutal.
His body was slow to recover. His muscles ached more than ever. And his opponents weren't getting any weaker.
If anything, they were getting stronger.
He faced a student with a heavy warhammer, someone who could crush boulders with raw celestial force. Dawn's speed and technique barely kept him in the fight. But in the end, his attacks weren't strong enough to break through.
He lost.
Then he lost again.
And again.
His victories became fewer and further between. The gap in power became undeniable.
---
Day Five:
By the fifth day, Dawn had lost more matches than he could count.
It wasn't that he lacked skill. He had technique, he had instinct, he had adaptability.
But he didn't have raw, overwhelming strength.
No matter how well he fought, there was always someone who could crush through his defenses, someone who could power through his counterattacks.
He was too weak.
The realization burned.
And for the first time, doubt crept in.
Could he even win against the strongest? Could he reach their level without the same brute power?
By the end of the day, he wasn't sure.
---
The night air was cool against his battered skin as he made his way back to the riverbank.
Luna was already there, waiting.
She took one look at him, at the fresh bruises and the exhaustion in his posture, and sighed.
"You look worse than before."
Dawn flopped onto the ground, groaning. Thanks for the compliment."
Luna smirked. "Lost a lot, didn't you?"
"Gee, thanks for rubbing it in."
She chuckled but didn't push further. Instead, she sat beside him, watching the water ripple under the moonlight.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then, quietly, Luna said, "Are you thinking of giving up?"
Dawn blinked. "What?"
She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "You've been pushing yourself non-stop. Losing more than you win. I can see it in your face—you're doubting yourself."
Dawn opened his mouth to deny it. But he stopped.
Because she was right.
He let out a slow breath. "I'm not giving up. But… I need something more. Something that can bridge the gap."
Luna studied him for a long moment before nodding.
"Then find it."
Dawn frowned. "It's not that simple."
She shrugged. "You're the one who keeps talking about discovery and forging your own path. So forge it."
Dawn stared at her. Then, slowly, a small, tired smile crept onto his lips.
"You make it sound easy."
"It's not," she admitted. "But you're too stubborn to accept limits, aren't you?"
Dawn laughed softly. "Yeah. I guess I am."
He lay back, staring up at the vast sky. The stars twinkled above, endless and unknowable.
There had to be something. Some way to make up for his lack of raw power.
Something that was his.
And he would find it. Because he already knew where the answer lay, just beyond his reach but maybe someone can help him.