A heavy clang rang out as I unsheathed my training blade.
Across from me, Elias simply raised his hand.
His stance was effortless.
I exhaled sharply, forcing my nerves into place, while the nobles whispered among themselves, placing quiet bets. To them, this wasn't a real competition. It was an inevitable conclusion. A skilled duelist against a village-born nobody. A noble heir against a trespasser.
The moment his hand dropped, I lunged, gripping my sword so tight my knuckles turned white.
No hesitation, no second-guessing, just a full-force swing, aiming straight for his ribs.
Elias didn't dodge.
He stepped forward.
At the last second, his body twisted, fluid, controlled. My blade barely grazed his side before his hand snapped out like a whip. Pain exploded up my arm, my fingers numbed for a fraction of a second. And that was all he needed. A second strike. Faster. Harder.
My sword flew from my grip. I barely had time to react before Elias moved again. A crushing elbow into my ribs. A sharp kick to the back of my leg. The world tilted. My knees hit the ground. And suddenly, he was standing above me, expression unreadable.
The nobles laughed.
I gasped, coughing as my vision blurred for a second, while Elias took a step back, watching me. Not mocking, not gloating, just waiting.
I pushed myself up, wiping blood from my mouth.
If I had learned one thing from training with my father, it was that pain means you're still alive.
I lunged for my sword, but Elias was already there. His foot pressed onto the blade, pinning it down. He glanced at me, his gaze unreadable, and then, he lifted his foot slightly.
An invitation.
Pick it up and keep fighting. Or concede.
He wanted me to realize how hopeless this was, but I wasn't going to let him dictate the fight.
I grabbed the hilt and swung upward in a desperate arc, forcing him back. The moment his foot left my blade, I rolled away, gaining distance.
Elias didn't pursue. He let me recover, adjusting his stance, waiting for my next move. I forced air into my lungs, ribs screaming in protest. This wasn't training with my father. This wasn't sparring with Lance. This was a battle against someone leagues beyond me.
I swung again, sloppier this time, my muscles sluggish from pain. A feint, then a slash toward his shoulder. He didn't dodge. He stepped in, parrying my strike with his bare hand, redirecting the force like it was nothing. My balance wavered, just for a second.
And that was all he needed.
A sharp, crushing impact against my thigh, then another against my ribs. I gasped, nearly buckling. Elias's movements were methodical, efficient. Like a craftsman dismantling a flawed creation.
I gritted my teeth. No. I wasn't going down like this.
I pushed through the pain, shifting my stance, swinging my sword in a reckless, unpredictable arc. He moved to dodge, but his foot caught on something.
Small. Subtle. A barely noticeable shift beneath his step.
But for someone as precise as him, it mattered.
For the first time, he faltered. Just slightly.
And that was all I needed.
A desperate thrust, wild, clumsy, but it landed.
My blade sliced across his forearm.
A sharp breath. A single drop of blood hitting the stone floor.
Silence fell over the arena.
The nobles weren't laughing anymore.
Elias looked down at his arm, as if genuinely surprised to see the wound. He lifted his gaze to me, and for the first time since this duel began, I saw something new in his expression.
Not amusement. Not indifference.
Interest.
I was breathing hard now. My ribs ached, my vision blurred at the edges, and my grip on my sword felt weaker with every passing second.
Elias adjusted his stance, and we clashed again.
Elias came at me like a storm relentless, unyielding, a force of nature wrapped in human form. His strikes were sharper, faster, his counters more ruthless. He didn't need a sword. He is the weapon. And that's his strength with a weakening spell.
I barely kept up.
My breath came in ragged gasps. My arms ached. My ribs screamed. But the pain no longer mattered. The crowd faded. The arena blurred. The only thing that existed was the fight.
He feinted left. I parried. He stepped in, palm striking toward my wrist. I twisted, barely keeping my grip on my blade.
A heartbeat later, he was already moving, slipping past my defenses like a shadow. A fist drove toward my gut, I barely managed to pivot, but his other hand slammed into my shoulder, sending me staggering back.
I gasped for air. He didn't let me.
A flash of movement.
A strike aimed at my sword arm he wasn't trying to beat me down. He was trying to disarm me. I wrenched my blade away at the last second, barely avoiding his grip, but the maneuver cost me.
A step too far. A mistimed counter. A flinch when I should have dodged.
He struck my ribs. Hard.
Pain exploded through my torso, raw and searing, a deep, visceral agony that stole the air from my lungs.
My knees buckled. The world blurred.
I forced myself upright.
Elias moved to finish it.
His foot shifted, swift, certain, when suddenly, his heel slid on a loose piece of rubble. He adjusted instantly, but the momentary stumble was enough for me to strike back. I surged forward, blade flashing in a wild arc. He dodged, but this time, I was ready. I twisted my grip and slashed again, forcing him back.
He didn't retreat far.
Before I could press the advantage, he stepped in, closer than I expected. A heartbeat later, his hand was on my wrist. A brutal wrench.
Pain flared through my arm. My sword wavered.
His other hand shot toward my throat.
I barely managed to wrench myself free, but his leg swept out, hooking behind my ankle.
The ground vanished from beneath me.
I hit the stone floor hard. My head rang. The world tilted.
Elias was already moving, hand raised, ready to end it….
I rolled.
His strike hit nothing but stone.
I scrambled to my feet, sucking in a desperate breath, my entire body throbbing.
Elias didn't give me a second to recover. He came at me with renewed fury, his strikes faster, sharper. This wasn't just skill anymore. It was something else. Something raw. Something that told me he was enjoying this.
I barely blocked his next attack. His palm struck my forearm, numbing my fingers. I retaliated, driving my blade toward him in a reckless thrust. He twisted, narrowly avoiding the edge. His knee shot up toward my gut. I barely turned in time to deflect it with my elbow, but the impact still rattled my bones.
Back and forth. Strike and counter. Attack and defense.
Neither of us relented.
Sweat burned my eyes. Blood dripped from shallow cuts I hadn't even registered.
But I kept fighting.
Because if I stopped, I lost.
Elias moved to disarm me again, aiming for my wrist. I let him, just for a second, then twisted sharply, reversing the motion.
His own momentum betrayed him.
A gap. Small. Barely there.
But for someone like me, someone desperate, it was everything.
I lunged.
A final, brutal thrust.
My blade met flesh.
A sharp inhale. A single, quiet gasp.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Elias exhaled slowly, glancing down at the shallow wound across his chest. Blood soaked into his tunic. Not deep, not fatal, but enough.
Enough to prove I had won.
Silence fell over the arena.
I stood there, chest heaving, sword trembling in my grip. My legs barely held me up. Blood dripped from my knuckles, mixing with the sweat coating my skin. Every breath felt like fire in my ribs, but I refused to fall. Not now. Not when I had done the impossible.
Then the noble official's voice finally rang out.
"Winner: Asher Ardent."
A wave of noise erupted around us, shouts, murmurs, disbelief crackling in the air like lightning. But none of it reached me.
Because Elias hadn't moved.
He stood there, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths, his tunic stained with a thin line of crimson. His gaze lingered on the wound, then drifted up to meet mine.
And then, to my absolute confusion, he smiled.
"That," he mused, brushing dust off his sleeve like we hadn't just spent the last eternity trying to break each other, "was unexpected."
I stared at him, too tired to form a response.
He looked… amused. Relaxed, even. As if we'd just had an idle spar.
"You're not angry?" I finally managed. My voice came out rough, barely more than a rasp.
Elias tilted his head. "Angry?" A hint of curiosity flickered in his expression. "Why would I be angry?"
I blinked. "You…" I gestured vaguely, my fingers barely lifting off the hilt of my sword. "Lost?"
That damn chuckle again. "And you think that matters?"
I hesitated. "…Doesn't it?"
His gaze sharpened. "Tell me something, Asher."
Hearing my name in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
"You fought like someone who had no idea what he was doing," he continued. "And yet, every advantage I had… disappeared."
His lips twitched, something like intrigue flashing in his eyes.
"That wasn't just luck, was it?"
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "…I don't know."
Elias exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Fascinating."
A duel was a duel. A victory was a victory.
Even the silver-eyed noble, though clearly displeased, accepted the result with dignity. His jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod, acknowledging what had happened. The weight of tradition bound him, forcing him to honor the outcome. The same weight that now settled on my shoulders.
I won. Standing there, sword still in my grip, muscles burning from exhaustion, it didn't feel real. I could still feel the heat of Elias's gaze, filled with amusement. Curiosity. And worst of all, expectation.
Then, with nothing holding me here, Elias arranged for a carriage and proper escorts to take me to Arcanis. Not as a prisoner. Not as a fugitive.
As someone worth acknowledging.
The weight of that truth made my limbs heavier as I stepped into the carriage. I hesitated, hand resting on the frame, glancing back at him one last time. He stood with his hands behind his back, posture regal, back to being unreadable as ever. A healer had already tended to his wound, the faint glow of magic sealing the cut as if it had never been there. Elias barely seemed to notice. His focus remained on me.
"You're really not upset?" I asked.
Elias smirked, the same infuriatingly self-assured expression he had worn most of the fight. "Not at all."
I frowned, studying him, but his confidence never wavered. I was about to shut the door when his voice cut through the air, calm, composed, yet laced with something I couldn't quite place.
"See you soon."
A chill traced its way down my spine.
The carriage door shut.
And finally, I was on my way to Arcanis.