The arena was a cauldron of noise—until Felix and Darian stepped onto the sand.
It fell silent as Felix and Darian faced each other, weapons drawn. Dust swirled between them, kicked up by the restless crowd.
Darian's spear gleam under the sun, its tip humming with latent energy. "I won't go easy on you,"he warned.
Felix rolled his shoulders, his sword catching the light. "Sounds fun."
The crowd held its breath.
Felix lunged—blindingly fast—not with a reckless charge, but a controlled step, testing Darian's stance . But Darian's spear intercepted with a deafening clang . The impact reverberated up Felix's arms, numbing his fingers .
Fast," Darian admitted. "But predictable."
With a twist of his spear, he shoved Felix back, sending him skidding across the sand.
Felix grinned. "Let's see if you can keep up."
Felix lunged again—but this time,Felix feinted left, then twisted right, aiming for Darian's ribs. Eyes widened—just slightly. He jerked back, the blade missing his tunic by a finger's width.— Darian vanished . The strike hit empty air.
Felix's fingers throbbed. He knew how to read an opponent's body, but Darian wasn't just a man—he was a wall of instincts sharpened by decades. Every move Felix made was already answered before it landed. Was he out of his depth? No—he just needed a crack.
"Good technique," Darian mused, reappearing behind him.
Felix grinned. "You're welcome."
"You'll need more than that to win," Darian said.
"Then stop talking,"Felix shot back, his grin sharpening."Let your spear do the work.
"As you wish," Darian muttered again.
Darian's spear slammed into the earth . The ground quaked , fissures spiderwebbing outward. Then— Darian attacked.
Not just with speed—with rhythm. Every strike was a calculated beat, faster and heavier than the last. Felix parried, but each block sent jolts of pain up his arms.
"He's not just strong… He's trained. Every move has purpose. This isn't just strength—it's experience."
Felix was elite, but Darian? Unmatched , A veteran. The difference was clear: Felix fought the people; Darian fought the battlefield itself. Every missed strike left craters in the earth. Every step Felix took was a gamble.
"Trying to hurt me, I see," Felix panted. sweat dripping into his eyes.
"This is a normal fight," Darian said. "Keep up… or give up."
The attacks grew heavier, each one a hammer to Felix's defenses.
"Let's end this quick," Darian declared.
"Bet," Felix spat.
Darian unleashed a tempest —wind slashes tore through the arena, kicking up a sandstorm. Felix counted under his breath : "1… 2… 3… Now!" Thanks .
A smirk. A flash of steel.
Then— Darian struck from above . The spear's force slammed Felix into the ground , dust swallowing them whole.
Silence.
The sand settled. Darian stood victorious, spear at Felix's throat. The crowd erupted.
Felix, though, laughed through the pain. "Good fight."
Darian hauled him up. "You held your own."
"I've got more to learn," Felix admitted, wiping blood from his lip . "But I'll take the loss."
But the victory felt unearned.
The maid retrieved Darian's spear :
As they left the arena, the guild members stared. Some whispered: "He took a direct hit from the Guild Master and smiled?" And "Did you see how the Guild Master moved?"
Darian led Felix up a spiraling staircase to his office. The door creaked open, revealing a room of contradictions :
- Books piled haphazardly beside ancient maps .
- Dried herbs hung next to gilded portraits .
- A family painting dominated the wall : a couple, two children— one a teen, the other a toddler in their arms .
"Sit," Darian said, gesturing to a worn sofa."I'll return shortly."
Felix studied the portraits. The teen in the painting had Darian's eyes.
Darian reentered, catching his gaze. "Admiring the art?"
"It's… vivid," Felix said. "Like they'll step out of the frame."
Pride flickered in Darian's voice. "My sister painted them."
"I'd like to meet her," Felix said.
"She lives in another kingdom." A pause. "Or rather, I left. Chased Balmwich's legends instead." His tone carried weight Felix didn't press.
"A lie. "
The maid delivered tea, her exit leaving the air thick with unspoken words .
He traced the painted faces with his gaze. Felix wondered what it cost a man like Darian to leave that behind. What legend was worth the weight of family?
Then— Darian's voice turned to ice :
"Now, Felix. Tell me who gave you the Star-fall…
…or prepare for execution."
Darian didn't raise his voice. He simply sipped his tea—and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.