Joran opened his eyes, staring at the lustrous ceiling above him, and stretching his body out after him sleeping. Getting out of the gargantuan bed he was in, he proceeded to walk straight towards an appendage room, a bathroom, where he passively took care of his morning routine, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He had been here for about a month now, and had grown accustomed to the life given by being within Crown City. No, by being within the Sovereign Palace.

In the bed chambers he had left, there stood a lean young man dressed in a tuxedo waiting outside the bathroom, his wavy brown hair parted in the middle, and a devilish smile naturally broadened on his face, when he spoke, a calm but coy voice echoed within the chambers.

"Had a good rest, Master Joran?"

Joran muttered back from the bathroom, "Callahan, I told you to not ask me something while I'm in here…"

"Ah, but you did respond this time!"

"… It was fine."

Joran began to take a bath, as his attendant Callahan tidied the bed, smiling all the while.

"So what will you do today, I wonder? Will it be duel training with Drekor, visiting the Divine Eye Sect, or meandering the streets of the City?"

Joran sighed helplessly to the enthusiasm of his attendant, "I don't know? I would assume Drekor will want to beat my ass again in training… So it'll probably be that."

"Should I get the nurse in advance then?"

"'Et tu,' Callahan…?"

After Callahan hysterically laughed, Joran spent a few more minutes in his bath, before wrapping himself with a bronze colored bathrobe, and heading back into the chambers, where Callahan had his training attire laid out on the bed, waiting for him to adorn.

His formal wear was usually just the same garments that he wore during the Exams, while his casual wear ranged between his bathrobe he wore right now, to loosely generic pajamas. His training attire, however, was specifically given to him by Drekor.

At first glance, it looks similar to his robes he wore as a student, just with golden bands instead of green. However, if inspected for longer, its appearance was that of a sharper, rougher texture, the robes' ends cut sharply, before they would fall below the waist; and the robes did not drape much below the waist, being more bound around the legs and hips.

Donning his attire, Callahan helped a bit here and there, but for the most part, was standing near Joran, smiling. When Joran first came here and met Callahan for the first time, they were both excessively awkward, not sure of each other's presence. Although Callahan was his attendant, Joran refused to be waited at all. Eventually, they compromised, and Joran wouldn't mind Callahan waiting on him within the Palace. Conversely, if Joran left the Palace, Callahan could do as he pleased.

For this reason alone, Callahan had long since enjoyed being Joran's attendant.

After he finished donning the robes, Joran turned to Callahan and sighed, "So, I would imagine you know where Drekor would want to spar today?"

Callahan shrugged coyly, "I wouldn't know, it would only be the 20th or so time he'd school you within the Agile Sparring Yard."

Joran grimaced and lamented, "Go enjoy your time, you ass."

"With immense gratitude to your leniency, Master Joran."

Joran waved him off, and began to head outside of the Palace and into the courtyards. Although Crown City wasn't an immense city, it still acted as the core of the Terrene Metro's largest entities and organizations. At any given angle, you would see either towering skyscrapers, palaces, domes, or other gargantuan structures house the absolute peak of the Metropolis's powerhouses. The Sovereign Clan held a modest amount of territory within Crown City; however it couldn't be understated as the bureaucratic centerpiece, especially with their branch sects and clans that spanned their influence across the entire Realm. One of these branch clans, the Agile Swift Clan, was exactly where Joran was headed.

Within the Clans were hierarchy. Naturally, given the difference in strengths and potential across all clans, organizations, or entities. When people referred to the Sovereign Clan, anyone would know they were referring to the highest ranked clan of the Swift Clan, the Sovereign Swift Clan. Those within the Swift Clan were surnamed Idaten, however, each clan was a clearly different stratus. To be considered a member of the Sovereign Clan, meant you were recognized as one of the best of the best of the Idaten. Conversely, If you were part of the Agile Clan… It meant the complete opposite.

Joran had long since understood why they would spar in the Agile Clan's courtyards. Not to mock Joran's utter powerlessness, but rather for him to embrace it.

"Could he at least go a little easier on me…?"

Compared to the Sovereign Palace he was sleeping in, the Agile Clan's counterpart Palace was a complete slouch. Embroidered in gold, its grandiose ended there. While the Sovereign Palace was thin and towering, the Agile Palace was wide and pressed onto the ground, more akin to a large manor.

To some, this would be an unbearably pitiful comparison, but Joran was different. He felt more at home within this Palace than any other place he'd been since leaving the Central Districts. Sometimes he wonder if that was Drekor's real reason for sparring here.

Upon entering the main lobby, the young woman who was an attendant there noticed Joran, dramatically got startled, and deeply bowed, "Honored Joker! We were expecting you a bit later in the day, to what do we owe this pleasure to? Ah—Is it perhaps to use our meager Sparring Yards again?"

Joran gave her a sidelong glance, before scratching the back of his head, "If that's alright, yes. Is Drekor not here yet?"

The woman straightened herself up and responded diligently, "No, Honored Joker. Prince Drekor hasn't arrived yet. Was it planned that you two would be here again? I couldn't imagine such prestige-"

Joran cut her off with a hand, scrunching his face slightly, "It's fine, you know. If he doesn't show up, I'll just look for him. It's not like it'll be any different from the last dozen or so times…"

The attendant coughed, and smiled, "I think you'll be the victor today!"

Joran gave a half thumbs up, and walked away from her and towards where the Sparring Yards were.

Since the Realm Monarch had given Joran his asylum a little over a month ago, he had directly appointed him to Drekor as his protector and confidant. And since then, he had officially announced to the Metropolis the arrival of a Joker holder, albeit without announcing who was the Joker. Almost overnight, the uproar and morale of the cities and border towns exponentially increased; talking of the impossible feats that Jokers could do, creating myths and tales out of their whimsical fantasies, as if the Joker were a superhero within their lands of innate potential and affinity. Little did most of them know however, that Joran, the most prestigious Joker of legends, was sparring with his best friend in the lowest ranked clan of Idaten. And getting absolutely demolished each and every time.

Passing through the Agile Palace, Joran couldn't help but gaze at the members sparring, or meditating in their rooms as he passed by. Any of the sparrers were pretty quick on their feet, and at times Joran would lose track of them in combat. Naturally, given that the Swift Clans possessed speed.

Naturally, since he couldn't do much more than see better in the dark; he would mock himself with such thoughts as he entered the specific Yard the duo would spar in.

It was a bit off standish from the rest of the Yards, and further into the Palace that not so many people ventured into. While the Agile Clan was the lowest rank, it too had hierarchy within itself.

As he entered the Yard, he could see the opening in the roof, that let sunlight filter in unhinged, the field of grass in the middle with painted lines dividing the room cleanly into two halves. Amusingly, one half was tattered in scuff marks and traces of combat, while the other was almost completely spotless. Not that anyone but someone with the Sacred Sight Arts could see those little details.

Joran walked towards the middle of the field, right in the middle of the sunlight as well, and sat down, crossing his legs, and closing his eyes, silently meditating within the Sacred Sights Arts, patiently waiting for his friend.

After some time, Joran's mind drifted, and placed himself within a field similar to this one, but with a much larger expanse of grass, cut off only by the horizons and mountains. He laid himself onto the green sea, bathing within the sunlight, taking in the aroma of the flowers that waved gently within the field. To him, an eternity spent like this was bliss. To him, this was his ultimate goal.

Joran felt a kick to his side as he laid there, and he woke up from his dream like trance, realizing he was still in the Yard, and that Drekor had finally shown up, also in his training attire.

Joran scoffed, putting on his usual façade, "Well, look who decided to show up!"

Drekor smirked, and shrugged, "I'm sorry, I thought you'd prefer to get beaten later in the day, less time of the day to feel sore and all that."

"Hah! You enjoy my suffering don't you!?"

"A little bit~."

Joran swore under his breath and got up, readying himself on the side of the field that had the scuffs and traces that he noticed before, grabbing a dimly bronze tinted sword that had a long, wide hilt, and a noticeable curve within its back. A Dao broadsword, to be exact. Although its edge was blunted, one could still imagine how sharp it had once been. Drekor took his own blunted broadsword and took to his side of the field.

They both assumed a stance remarkably similar, Drekor raised an eyebrow to this.

"Oh, so you finally started to study the Draconic Blade Style?"

"Heh, I'm just copying you."

Drekor shook his head slightly, and jokingly rebuked, "Well, this looks like it'll be 21 to 0 then!"

"I almost won that one ti-!" Joran tried to shout out his rebuttal, but Drekor cut him off sharply with his first lunge into his side of the field.

Drekor didn't bother executing his Arts, so it was a simple lunge that Joran could react to. Their blades crossed once, and as they clanged, the ring echoed once or twice in the Yard before being stifled into silence. The two held their blades almost perpendicular to each other, as they looked intently into each other's eyes. Joran's eyes were heated with the desperation of getting at least one win. Drekor's eyes were calm like a lake's water, his mind blank beyond the moment.

Drekor pulled back his blade, and went for another strike, towards Joran's lower side, forcing Joran to twist his wrist to match with his blade. As Joran grunted, he succeeded in parrying the strike. Drekor's breath was barely changed.

"What do I keep telling you, Joran?"

"Is this a class now?!"

Drekor immediately appeared behind Joran, disarming Joran by twisting his sword out of his already strained hand with his own sword. Joran's sword fell astutely into the grass before pointing his blade to Joran's back. It was only once the sword had fallen that Joran finally turned around to look his friend in the eyes again.

Drekor asked again, "What do I keep telling you?"

Joran rolled his eyes, "'The blade and the wielder have to be empty but with intent.' But I don't get what that even means! How do you fight without anything in your mind, but… 'intent'?"

Drekor lowered his weapon, walking around Joran, "As I said before, it's not just about how you react, but how you proact. You have to not think about what to do, but rather simply do. It's such a straightforward concept, especially so if you know how to feel emptiness and peace at the same time."

"But see, I can do that in a garden, or while I'm relaxing, how do I do that with my blood rushing on a battlefield? How can I not think about everything in that situation?"

Drekor readied himself, and lunged towards empty space while striking sideways, to demonstrate his point.

"You simply do. If you think too much, you're going to push yourself into a corner before the enemy will do it for you."

"But how can I not think about the risks? Especially when I'm at such a disadvantage?"

"And it's precisely that kind of attitude that causes you to lose 20 times to me without me even using the Sovereign Realm Arts. You have to at least try."

Joran sat down and grunted to himself as he thought about what Drekor said, finally giving up trying to comprehend anything, "But you could use it…"

Drekor sighed and laid himself down next to Joran, and the two stayed like that for some time. Although he was frustrated with Joran right now, he couldn't refute how much admiration he truly possessed for the carefree perspective Joran held in his heart. His ability to do as he pleased was probably unmatched by anyone else, save maybe the most spoiled noble kids.

Ability to do as he pleased… Drekor thought to himself silently.

"… Wait!" Drekor straightened himself up suddenly, startling Joran.

"W-what? Dude, you can't just scare me like that."

Drekor laughed, "Sorry, sorry; I just realized something."

"… Ok?"

Drekor turned himself towards Joran, both of them still sitting on the field, "Ok, so, you're struggling with the fact that you're unable to match my Arts, yes?"

"… I mean yeah, I don't need you to flex on me though."

"My point being, you're worried about not being able to match me at my best?"

"… Yeah?"

"But what made you think you could stand up to my father when he threatened Hando?"

Joran eyes widened slightly, but then became perplexed again, "I mean… I didn't… I just…"

Finally, Joran's eyes widened completely as he realized where Drekor was going, and Drekor finished the rest of his sentence, "You just did."

The two of them shot to their feet as they started getting giddy. But Joran calmed down after a few seconds and went back into a lull.

"I can only do that when someone I care about is threatened, though… And I'd rather not do that for training."

"Fair, but what if you just convinced yourself that?"

"… I could, maybe, but I don't want to hurt you either," At this, Joran frowned.

Drekor puffed his chest out, "It's fine, it's fine; you haven't even come close to beating me."

"… Screw you, dude."

He laughed in response, and then picked up his sword and headed to his side of the field before readying into stance, "I'll be here waiting, then."

Joran closed his eyes and steadied his breath, thinking deeply in his own mind back to that moment when the Realm Monarch held Hando's life in his hands. The induced rage and impulsiveness that ensued, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Joran suddenly felt it all, and opened his eyes, locking onto Drekor, who at this point in time was giving a provocative smirk.

With a grunt, Joran lunged towards Drekor, slightly slower than Drekor, but still able to clear the majority of the field, and then slashing his sword downward diagonally. Drekor met it with ease, but right when their blades touched, Joran pulled it back and reversed the momentum into an uppercut. Drekor's eyes widened instinctually, and he twisted his blade to parry, before taking a few steps back.

In that moment, Drekor couldn't help but shout out in praise, "Good form!"

Drekor answered back with a side slash like the first time, which Joran blocked, the blades clanging and scraping. Drekor slashed back and forth and pushed forward, forcing Joran to his side of the field again.

In this moment, Joran could feel a void in his mind, where the moment they existed in took the entirety of the space the void was in. Slowly, but surely, the possible outcomes of the spar popped out in the peripherals. One by one, each of them all came out to the same conclusion—that Drekor would win. Joran stumbled slightly back, losing some of his rage induced confidence, and started to get wailed on by Drekor.

Drekor did a down slash, jumping up slightly at the same time. This momentum bludgeoned Joran in the shoulder, forcing him down. Joran closed his eyes for a split second, clearing his mind of the outcomes, and forcing the memory of Hando's throat being held by the Realm Monarch's sword.

Never again!

Joran fiercely opened his eyes, and did a sweep with his legs, using the momentum to get up, and swiping Drekor down to the ground.

Except Drekor anticipated this and jumped up to avoid the sweep. Drekor did another side slash, which Joran parried, and used the exact same momentum Drekor used to perform his own side slash.

"…?!" Drekor's instincts forced a retreat, and he caught his breath on his side of the field, after pushing Joran further into his own side.

"… Copying me, huh!?"

Joran smirked, his rage induced adrenaline forcing it into something more sinister, "You sure you can beat me without using your Arts?"

Before Drekor could respond, Joran lunged again, this time with a side slash himself. Drekor, realizing that Joran could win if he had actually been studying their Blade Style, decided to utilize the same form Joran used against him: Dragon's Wisdom.

He parried the side slash and converted the momentum into the exact same side slash Joran performed against him. A form of the style that allowed the wielder to execute the attack it parried, identically, flawlessly.

Joran's eyes widened in this breath of a moment. But not in fear.

Anticipating the parry, he ducked beneath the side slash, and then did an upper cut as Drekor finished out the side slash. Slashing through his body, albeit with the blunted edge of the sword.

Only…

Drekor's body disappeared as Joran slashed upwards, and Joran felt as if he could feel a blade on his shoulder.

Joran blankly looked in front of him, before he could finally collect his senses from the adrenaline he induced within himself, and straightened himself up before turning to face his friend who was now behind him, Joran wearing a bitter smile, "Welp, 21 to 0 in the end..."

At this, Drekor put a hand on Joran's shoulder, and smiled, "No. 20 to 1," and patted his shoulder a couple of times before bowing, and smiling with pride.

Joran stood silently, his eyes blanked out in disbelief at his friend's decree, before a small tear welled up in his eyes, "You're just giving me a pity win."

Before Drekor could say anything, a deep, familiar voice rang from the entrance of the Yard, "No, it was your complete, and utter win."

The duo looked towards the entrance, before reacting their different ways.

Drekor rushed towards the man, gleefully before hugging him, "Father!"

Joran immediately kneeled and kowtowed, "Realm Monarch!"

The Realm Monarch hugged his son dearly, and chuckled to himself, "Ho ho, don't worry about such formality, Joran. After all, you did win!"

Joran stood back up, but scratched the back of his head shyly, "I mean, in the end I couldn't hit him."

"Maybe so, but you completely predicted what he would do in the next moment, and planned accordingly… Proacted accordingly. If it had been an even fight, with both fighters on the same field, it was your win with your superior tactics.

"In the end, my son had to resort to his Arts to come out with the win."

With that, Joran sheepishly chuckled, but then frowned to himself silently, before continuing, "But in the end, he had the Arts."

Drekor sighed, "Maybe so, but this win is an important milestone! From now on, it won't be such a stomp!"

Joran smiled faintly, "If only I could learn a better Arts…"

The Realm Monarch sighed at this point, "If you're going to be the Joker that the entire Metropolis is heralding as a legend, you're going to need to improve your attitude. You proved to be decisive in the moment where it mattered, and that alone is enough for now. You can be worried about the reality of the world after you've perfected what you've been given."

Joran looked at the Realm Monarch, and bowed deeply, cupping his hands, "Your words are wise and magnanimous. Even from the first day I met you, I can't help but be awed at your caliber of wisdom. Thank you, Realm Monarch."

The tall, middle aged man shook his head fiercely, "Please, Joker Joran, call me Reigan when we're this casual. I misjudged you when I first met you, as someone who wished to be apathetic, and to do nothing. But I understand now that that dream of yours that you wish to obtain is peace and tranquility, one where only when problems are dealt with and any tribulations are overcome that it can be achieved. And above all else, you value your friends and their well-being. And that…"

He stopped, and coddled Drekor as he looked at his son with a gentle smile, "That is a motivation I can respect."

Joran was taken aback, and cupped his hands and bowed once more, "Thank you… er… Senior Idaten."

Reigan's laugh was unrestrained for a whole minute, while the two boys gawked at the regal pinnacle of the entire Realm laugh to his heart's content.

After his laughter died down, Reigan's face turned serious once more, and continued, "Now then, since this victory was obtained, I did not come here by happenstance."

Then, the boys turned rigid, as they knew where this was going most likely.

Reigan donned his regal prose, and spoke solemnly, "The Incursion's severity has worsened. It's time to involve the newest addition to the leaders of the Metropolis; the Joker."