Kael sat still while the remaining matches unfolded before him. He didn’t bother watching them. He only counted the number of returning footsteps. Each one meant another opponent was advancing. Another name he might face.

  By the sixth round, his fingers were cold with anticipation.

  Professor Jade rose once the latest victor returned. Her voice cut sharply through the room:

  "Kael! Aric! You’re next.”

  Kael inhaled slowly, steadying the tremor in his chest. Finally.

  He and Aric stood and stepped into the narrow corridor leading toward the arena. Their boots echoed against the stone, two rhythms bound for collision. Neither tried to speak. There was nothing to say.

  With every step, the roar of the arena grew louder, swelling like a heartbeat until they reached the blinding light.

  They emerged into the open air, where sunlight spilled over the sandstone and thousands of eyes watched them. Cheers rose for Aric. A scattering of boos and mocking calls answered Kael.

  He shut all of it out.

  The two stopped at the center of the arena, steel glinting at their sides. Silence rippled outward as the Vice-Headmaster rose from his seat.

  He looked down at them with a bored expression that felt like an insult.

  "Welcome, fighters," he began, his voice amplified through the arena. "Go as far as your strength allows. There is no need to restrain yourselves; medical teams stand ready to treat your wounds."

  Then, his tone sharpened and became laced with cruel amusement. "Only killing blows are forbidden... though," he said, giving a careless shrug. "Should one occur by accident, nothing can be done."

  A wave of unease swept through the spectators. Whispers. Gasps. Kael’s jaw tightened. Aric’s grip on his sword faltered for a moment.

  The vice headmaster lowered himself back into his seat and looked elsewhere.

  "You may begin," he said.

  The crowd leaned forward as one. A storm of anticipation filled the air.

  Kael took a step back and lifted his blade. Aric mirrored him, fear flickering behind his eyes.

  This wasn’t just a fight.

  It was Kael’s first step toward reclaiming the future.

  He flicked a glance toward Zaros and Lia in the stands, catching their hopeful smiles, and then shut the world out.

  Only Aric remained.

  Neither moved at first. Kael’s breathing slowed as he calculated his opening.

  But Aric didn’t wait.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  He lunged, raising his sword high for a reckless downward strike.

  Too simple.

  Kael braced his stance and angled his blade to deflect the blow. Steel crashed, the sharp ring echoing across the stadium. Aric’s face was drawn tight with raw determination; fear was buried beneath his stubborn pride.

  Everyone here wants to win just as badly. Stop thinking. Move.

  Kael pivoted sharply, deflecting Aric’s sword and forcing the blow away. The shift in momentum caused Aric to stumble forward, leaving him wide open.

  Kael’s knee shot up.

  A brutal crack sounded. Aric dropped to the sand like a sack of stones, blood running down his chin.

  Kael winced. "Sorry," he breathed.

  He looked toward the Vice-Headmaster to confirm the end of the match.

  The man only smiled. Coldly, expectantly.

  A chill ran down Kael’s spine.

  Kael dove sideways an instant before Aric’s blade swept through the air where his leg had been.

  Kael whipped back toward his opponent.

  Aric’s nose was broken, his eyes were unfocused and glossy, and he was barely conscious. Yet he swung wildly, controlled only by desperation.

  Kael continued to evade, slipping around Aric’s wild swings. There was no technique left in his movements, only desperation and blind instinct. Kael’s jaw tightened. Hurting Aric any further would feel less like victory and more like cruelty.

  So he danced away from every strike, even as jeers rained down on him from the stands.

  "Coward! Boring! Fight properly!"

  He ignored them all.

  Eventually, Aric’s arm spasmed, causing his sword to slip from his grasp and clatter onto the sand. Still, he staggered forward, swinging his bare fists at Kael with a hoarse roar.

  Would I also end up like this, clinging to my dignity when I have nothing left to fight with?

  Kael dodged the punch with a gentle twist of his body and placed a firm strike between Aric’s shoulders. It was not enough to harm him, only enough to stop him.

  Aric grumbled, falling face-first into the dust.

  He didn’t rise again.

  Kael stood perfectly still, his chest rising and falling as he waited. Hoping.

  Aric’s fingers twitched once, then stopped moving entirely.

  Kael lifted his gaze to the Vice-Headmaster.

  No call. No gesture. No end.

  Just that emotionless stare.

  The shouts around him grew uglier, demanding more violence and spectacle. Kael’s patience snapped.

  "The match is over!" he shouted, his voice cutting sharply through the noise. He pointed at Aric’s motionless body. "He can't fight anymore! Send the healers now!"

  The audience nodded in agreement, turning their heads expectantly toward the high platform.

  But the vice headmaster merely leaned back in his seat with his fingers steepled, watching Kael with a chilling fascination. He did nothing. He said nothing.

  Kael frowned, his patience gone.

  "What is your problem?" he called out, his voice echoing through the arena.

  Gasps rippled through the crowd. Students stared in disbelief; someone had just spoken to the vice headmaster without a shred of caution. Even some professors tensed and exchanged uneasy glances.

  But the vice headmaster only chuckled. Slowly, he rose to his feet and fixed Kael with a stare sharp enough to cut bone.

  "This fight isn't over," he said lightly—too lightly. "Your opponent is still moving. If you want to end this battle, then do it properly.”

  Kael turned to Aric, who was barely conscious. He trembled as he tried to push himself up, but his arm buckled beneath him. There was no strength left. No fight.

  Kael spun back toward the dais.

  "He can't even stand," he said louder, passion rising. "Are you telling me that this academy promotes beating someone who's already on the ground? Is that the kind of honor you praise?"

  A murmur of agreement rolled through the stands. Even the instructors nodded under their breath.

  The vice headmaster’s smile soured, and his eyes narrowed into twin knives aimed directly at Kael.

  For an excruciatingly long second, neither of them blinked.

  Finally, he exhaled sharply and sat back down.

  "The match is over," he said through clenched teeth. "Winner: Kael.”

  Kael released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  He strode straight to Aric, knelt down, and lifted the boy gently, placing Aric's arm over his shoulder.

  Aric didn’t speak; his breath was ragged, but he was grateful.

  Kael helped him toward the exit tunnel. As he walked, he glanced up into the stands.

  Lia and Zaros were both on their feet, smiling and cheering. Relief was written all over their faces.

  Kael smiled back. For just a heartbeat, the ache inside him eased.