The sun had barely risen over the edges of Pompom Village, casting a soft golden hue across the stone-paved roads and the fields beyond. Just on the outskirts lay Pasture Lane—once a bustling trade path filled with traveling merchants, lively chatter, and the scent of exotic goods. But after the great dragon invasion six months ago, that image had withered. Now, thick vines and thorny bushes overtook the trail. Ash-covered rocks, collapsed signposts, and twisted roots of scorched trees marked the path that had once connected towns.
But worst of all, the lane had become home to creatures of all kinds. Honeybees the size of a grown man's fist swarmed overhead, Flow—moth-like creatures with fluttering wings that shimmered eerily in daylight—rested on tree trunks, and Fire Salamanders skittered between cracked cobblestones, their heated breath smoldering anything too close.
Solis adjusted the strap of his sword and looked ahead. Almond stood beside him, twirling his twin daggers with a cocky grin. "You sure you're ready, Hero?" he asked, the sarcasm thick in his voice.
Solis said nothing but nodded calmly.
They both turned toward the Objective Board where the mission had been pinned that morning: "Clear the infestation of Pasture Lane. Path must be made safe for travel once more."
Almond smirked and tapped the parchment. "Two birds with one arrow. Whoever clears the lane first wins. What do you say? Let's decide who's the best."
Solis exhaled. "Alright. Let's make this fair. We both start together. Whoever reaches the old merchant arch at the end first, after defeating every creature along the way, wins."
Up above, hovering gently thanks to Vaidya's Sky Walk spell, Ada folded her arms as she looked down at them.
"They're both insane," she muttered.
Vaidya smiled slightly. "They are Postknights."
Almond stretched his arms and then sprinted forward, daggers flashing. Solis followed, his sword drawn, eyes scanning the terrain.
The Challenge Begins
Right from the start, the difference in their styles became obvious. Solis charged head-on at a swarm of Flow, slashing through them with a wide arc of his blade. The creatures burst into sparkling dust, but the energy it took was evident. Each swing of his balanced sword took strength and momentum.
Almond, in contrast, weaved like a dancer. He zipped between the wings of the Flow, his daggers striking vital points—the neck, the thorax, just beneath the wings. The creatures dropped without much resistance, and Almond barely broke a sweat.
Ada watched, her eyes narrowing. "Who do you think is going to win, Vaidya?"
Vaidya hesitated before answering. "Frankly speaking, I think Almond will win."
Ada turned her gaze sharply. "What? Why?"
Vaidya raised a finger. "Let me explain. Melee weapons are generally divided into three categories.
"One: Heavy weapons. Axes, hammers. They rely on brute force and can crush opponents. Think slow, but devastating.
"Two: Balanced weapons. Swords, spears, glaives. They maintain an average in power, speed, and reach. Great for adaptable fighters.
"Three: Light weapons. Daggers, batons. Prioritize speed. They're for fighters who can deliver precision strikes without wasting movement."
Ada thought for a moment. "I use a long sword, but I'm still fast. That can't be the only reason."
Vaidya nodded. "You're an exception, sure. But look at them. Solis is using wide, heavy swings. He's cutting through everything, making sure nothing survives—but that drains stamina fast. Almond, on the other hand, is aiming for weak points. One strike. Precise. Clean. No wasted effort."
He sighed. "He is indeed a genius."
Down below, Solis fought against a wave of Fire Salamanders that slithered out from the grass. Their mouths sparked as they hissed and charged. Solis rolled forward, slashing through the pack, his movements slightly slower than when he began.
Almond danced through the next patch of Honeybees, spinning and leaping, using his daggers like an extension of his limbs. Within seconds, the buzzing had ceased.
The Finish Line
By the time the old merchant arch loomed in the distance, broken and laced with ivy, Almond was already leaning against the structure, arms crossed and breathing steady.
Solis arrived a couple of minutes later, covered in scratches and sweat, his sword dragging slightly from fatigue.
Almond whistled. "Hey, Hero! It seems you're quite the sloth, huh? Keep training. One day you'll surely become... a Legendary Postknight." His laughter was mocking and loud.
Solis just looked at him. He didn't respond.
Ada and Vaidya descended as the spell faded. Ada clenched her fist. Her boots stomped across the dirt toward Almond, fury painted on her face.
"You arrogant little—"
Solis held out a hand to stop her. She looked back, confused.
"Why are you stopping me? That piece of shit insulted your dream. He should be taught a lesson."
Solis's eyes were calm. "No need. I left that dream a long time ago."
Vaidya tilted his head. "Wh... What do you mean?"
Solis turned his gaze to the cleared path behind them. The burned trees, the fallen enemies, the path now safe for travel again.
"I was naive back then. I thought that my childish dream of being a Legendary Postknight could come true. I thought it meant glory, fame, power. But now I see it clearly."
He took a deep breath. "After Tedric's death, I saw the reality. Being a Postknight isn't about being a legend. It's about serving those in need. Being a shield, a messenger, a protector. That's what it really means."
Ada looked at him for a long moment, then slowly let go of her anger. Vaidya adjusted his glasses.
Solis walked past Almond, saying nothing more. His expression was calm—too calm for someone who had just lost a race. There was no frustration, no anger, not even disappointment. Just a steady gaze, a nod toward the cleared lane, and quiet steps that carried him forward without looking back.
Almond still wore that familiar smirk, cocky and crooked. But as Solis passed by, silent and composed, something inside Almond twitched. The smirk faltered for the briefest moment—barely noticeable to anyone but himself.
He scoffed to cover it up, but the laughter didn't come out as strong this time. It was dry. Forced.
There was a flicker in his eyes—of confusion, maybe even irritation. Not because Solis had won. No, Almond had claimed the victory fair and square. But that wasn't what was bothering him.
What gnawed at him was how unfazed Solis seemed by the loss. How someone could be so unaffected, so purpose-driven, and not even attempt to defend themselves when mocked. Solis didn't argue. He didn't challenge the insult. He didn't even deny it.
And somehow… that stung more than a verbal comeback ever could.
Almond stared at Solis's back as it grew smaller in the distance. For the first time in a while, his confidence felt... questioned. Not by someone else's words—but by someone else's silence.
He had a feeling he hadn't won as thoroughly as he thought.
He had a feeling that he'd just been humiliated—without a single word.