“It’s too bad I have to wait until after lunch”, Vreil mumbled darkly, still staring Sting down, and Nigel raised a brow. “I am so fucking fired up right now...”

“It can’t be helped”, Nigel shrugged. “You heard Jiovanni; they want you and Sting to recover your strength and give us a good show.”

Heading to the dining room, the two took their lunch from the cooking lady, and Vreil’s plate was fuller than usual. The looks he was receiving had also changed; from shunning and estranged, they had turned into unwilling respect.

It’s not much, he smiled, but it’s something.

“You know…” began Nigel, poking his food around with a spoon. “You really mustn’t lose to that Sting. It could even give them an advantage in negotiations with the revolution. Do you want to warm up a little before the match begins?”

“Sure”, smiled the Arknas. “Your fighting style - you know, the one you hid from me - is interesting anyway.”

“Heh, are you really going to be grumpy about that? Imagine if I had won”, Nigel laughed, and Vreil smirkingly raised a brow in response. “Dream on.”

The two continued to chat and laugh. As they did, the rest of the trainees lowered their own voices. And, for a time, Vreil and Nigel’s voice rose through the dining hall, carrying their triumph. A triumph earned through strength.

🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️

As they were looking for a quiet place to have a warm-up before the big match, Vreil and Nigel encountered the B.B. pirates, walking deep into the mountain. Vreil’s heart boiled over even at merely seeing them, but he thought it better to keep his mouth shut. If he didn’t, chances were that he would end up fighting them here and now.

Nigel, on the other hand, had no such concerns.

“What are you doing here?” he asked angrily. “This area is not meant for you; you should wait in the arena.”

“Calm down buddy”, said Mail, that Nigel had defeated. “We are allies, don’t be so jumpy. And what are we supposed to do at the arena? Our legs will go numb. We are allowed to take a walk, right?”

“Go take your walk somewhere else. This is a restricted area.”

In fact, Sayfire’s rooms were just around the corner, with only a couple of guards at the door.

Mail was getting angry now. “Watch your tongue, fucker, because I will-”

“Stop, Mail” Sting interrupted him, his short blond hair glistening in the torchlight. “We weren’t aware that this area is restricted. We just arrived, after all. Can you please show us a nicer route to walk?”

At Sting’s words, Mail shut up. It was clear who the leader was.

“Hmph”, snorted Nigel. “Walk back to the arena, then use the exit opposite to the one that leads this way. As long as you’re careful, you should be alright.”

“Thank you”, replied Sting, turning around and walking away. Throughout the exchange, it was as if he didn’t even recognize Vreil’s presence at all. As soon as Sting left, the other two followed him immediately.

“Do you think they just happened to find their way here?” Nigel turned to Vreil after the pirates had left.

“No. But I don’t think they are assassins either, if that is what you are asking me.”

“Yeah…” Nigel’s eyes followed the pirates’ departing figures, swaggering around as if they owned the place. “Let’s hope so.”

🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin the final match of this tournament”, Jiovanni’s voice boomed through the fighting grounds, exciting the crowd. “Fighters Vreil and Sting, please step into the arena.”

Loud cheerings for Vreil sounded from the audience as the two entered the arena and took their swords.

"Before we begin," Jiovanni glanced at the two competitors, "it has come to our attention that some participants know body strengthening magic. We should inform you that any use of magic is forbidden."

Oops, thought Vreil, but Jiovanni didn't give him time to think of anything else.

“Fight a fair match and give it your best. Let the best man win. Begin!”

Vreil charged at Sting. He would win. He had to. No matter what. Steel was flowing in Vreil’s eyes and the world had disappeared; in his eyes, there was only a pirate and two swords between them.

Sting dodged his first swings and laughed. “Is that all you got, Arknas?” he mocked his opponent and, with a sharp step forward, he took the initiative.

Vreil saw that Sting’s speed was much faster than his, and an iron vice gripped his heart. He could barely block or dodge the pirate’s attacks and he was forced to continuously step back. But, even by a hair’s breadth, he held on.

And as he did, strangely, Vreil became more and more used to Sting’s speed. Soon, he was able to stop stepping backward and stand his ground. Sting’s strikes became more and more fierce, but now Vreil was able to deal with them. Soon, he began to attack. Sting’s eyes widened in surprised rage, and their eyes met. On one side, Vreil was brimming with resolve; he would not lose. On the other, Sting’s gaze was iron; he would not lose.

The blades were almost scratching the two fighters. Like when he was fighting Milos in the forest, Vreil’s senses became sharper, his sword becoming one with his body. He could see the flaws in Sting’s swordplay and began to exploit them. Twice, Sting had to step back. But he got better too. He adjusted to Vreil’s sword, following suit with his gradual improvement, and the two men seemed to now be equal. They were fighting with all they had, both unconsciously sporting a terrifying smile.

They both kept getting better, their movements faster and sharper, with no unnecessary motions. They couldn’t know, but most people in the audience could barely make out the movements of the two swords. By the side, Jiovanni was sweating; he was supposed to stop them if an accident was about to occur, but he wasn’t so sure of his ability to make it in time anymore.

Vreil and Sting kept at it for some minutes. The sound of their swords clashing echoed through the corridors, alone, as everyone else could barely breathe from the tension. Nigel couldn’t tell the position of either swords, that is how fast they were moving. Everyone was holding their breaths, afraid to disturb the two fighters’ absolute concentration.

At some point, their inhuman stamina began to run out. They simultaneously jumped back and stared at each other. The accumulated fatigue struck them at once and they both stumbled before once again rushing forward. They continued to fight, but now their movements were slower compared to before. They had both surpassed their limits, and their bodies were now moving out of pure spite and willpower.

I can’t lose. I can’t lose. For everyone, I can’t lose. Was the only thought in Vreil’s mind.

Everyone depends on me. I have to fulfill my mission. I can’t lose yet. No. matter. what, were Sting’s thoughts.

Vreil’s body was heavy; he had never been this exhausted before. Every time he thought he could no longer lift his sword, his body moved on its own. He looked into Sting’s eyes and saw complete exhaustion, mirroring his own. But he also saw a fire raging in his eyes, once again, mirroring his own.

Faced with the fire in Sting, Vreil’s receding flames got rekindled as well. At the back of his mind he noticed that, even though Sting’s eyes were brown, his left eye seemed to be painted in a slightly brighter shade of brown. That didn’t matter.

If only I could use my magic! Damn rules.

Vreil couldn’t give a second shit about the rules, but he wanted to win without anyone suspecting how deep his hatred ran. Only then could he have his revenge.

Sting was taller and bigger than Vreil. He had immense talent and had been training from a very young age. Among the entirety of the Black Beard pirates, only some commanders could best him in combat. He had no peer among his training partners or even among the crews of the ships. He thought for sure that he was one of the best in the kingdom. And yet…

Why doesn’t he fall? How can a mere boy drive me this far? Just die already!

Sting’s eyes were bloodshot as he gritted his teeth.

Vreil felt like he was really reaching his limit. He decided to end it. He gathered all of his strength and aimed not for Sting, but for the man’s sword. He screamed, aligning every muscle in his body for this strike, and his sword clashed with the pirate’s. Attacking your opponent’s sword is suicide unless you succeed in disarming him with that one strike.

The impact threw Sting’s sword to the audience, but Jiovanni launched himself in the air and caught it by the blade before it could injure someone. According to the rules, if you dropped your sword, you lost.

"No..." Realizing his defeat, Sting slumped to the ground in despair. He could barely move. Seeing that, a dark spark shone through Vreil's exhausted eyes, and they once again narrowed. He stumbled forward as if he was about to pass out, making eye contact with Sting. He couldn't resist; the grim satisfaction shone through.

Sting saw Vreil's eyes and the dark light inside them made him realize. His eyes widened in horror but it was too late; he could only look on as Vreil suddenly exploded into motion, his sword piercing directly towards Sting's heart.

As he was just about to succeed, Vreil saw a flash of light from his right and an armored hand barely made it in time to push his sword off-course. It still descended, drawing a big gash on the right side of Sting's chest before penetrating the ground. Before Vreil had time to do anything more than look into Sting's relieved, shocked eyes, Jiovanni's armored fist landed squarely on his face.

Vreil’s consciousness dispersed like startled fireflies.