random123456

Chapter 220: The Beastkin

"Anyway…" Valeria said, attempting to steer the conversation back to something less aggravating. She turned her gaze toward the contestants in the arena, her voice carrying an edge of formality as she nodded toward the fighters below. "What do you think about these guys?"

Lucavion's smirk softened into something more thoughtful as he followed her gaze. Over the past few weeks, watching the matches together had become an unexpected ritual, one that Valeria found herself looking forward to more than she'd anticipated.

Despite his infuriating personality, Lucavion had a unique way of seeing through each fighter's technique, breaking down their flaws and strengths with a precision that was almost surgical.

And for someone like Valeria, who valued skill and discipline above all else, his insights were strangely compelling.

"Hmm," Lucavion murmured, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the contestants taking their stances. "See the one on the right? He's too stiff. Look at his shoulders—he's forcing the stance instead of letting it flow. He'll lose power in his strikes, and he'll tire faster than he realizes."

Valeria nodded, catching the subtle tension in the fighter's posture. "And his footwork," she added, leaning in slightly as she examined his stance. "It's too flat. He'll struggle to adjust if his opponent shifts the angle. A single feint could throw him off."

Lucavion's smile turned appreciative, a quiet spark of approval in his eyes. "Exactly. He's relying on power alone, which only works until someone catches onto the pattern." He paused, his gaze drifting to the second fighter, who seemed lighter on his feet, his stance more fluid. "Now that one—he's got better balance, but he's holding his blade too loosely. He's fast, but he won't be able to control his strikes if he tries to overpower."

Valeria's eyes followed his line of sight, and she felt a small thrill at the clarity in his observations. "If he had even a fraction more control, he could turn his speed into a real advantage." She glanced over at Lucavion. "Would you be able to do it?"

Lucavion chuckled, his gaze remaining on the fight as it began. "Guess?"

"…."

And as the two fighters clashed, Valeria leaned in, her focus sharpening. She and Lucavion fell into their usual rhythm, exchanging observations and critiques as the match played out before them.

It was during these moments, discussing the intricate details of each technique and debating improvements, that she felt most at ease, her usual wariness melting away as she immersed herself in the conversation.

It was ironic, really. Despite Lucavion's insufferable teasing, it was in these discussions that she found herself genuinely enjoying his company. Here, beneath the arena's lights and amidst the clashing steel, they spoke a language only the two of them seemed to understand—a shared passion for the sword that transcended their differences.

With each insight, Lucavion's voice lost its usual mocking edge, replaced by an intensity that almost mirrored her own. In these rare moments, Valeria felt an unspoken connection—a camaraderie forged not through words, but through the unyielding pursuit of mastery.

She couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement every time he pointed out something she'd missed or added a layer of insight she hadn't considered.

For Valeria, this was the best part of her week.

*******

*

Just like that, some more matches went down, and it was time for Valeria's match.

As Valeria stood up, readying herself to head down to the arena, a wave of nervous anticipation rolled through her. She tried to steady her breathing, her fingers unconsciously brushing the hilt of her sword for reassurance.

Her opponent this time was different from anyone she'd faced so far—a young beastkin boy whose strength was an enigma. She had watched him fight before, but something about his movements made it hard for her to gauge his abilities. Each of his matches had ended quickly, with a fluidity and ease that left little indication of his true limits.

Lucavion's gaze drifted toward her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he took in her expression. "A little nervous, are we?" he asked, his tone somewhere between teasing and genuinely observant.

Valeria shot him a look, half-annoyed and half-grateful for the distraction. "I'm not nervous," she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her. "I just… can't quite read him yet."

Lucavion chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair as he regarded her with that all-too-familiar smirk. "That's because it is the first time you are encountering a beastkin fighting, isn't that right?"

Valeria nodded, her gaze distant as she recalled the beastkin boy's previous fights. "Yes… It's the first time," she admitted, a flicker of hesitation in her voice. "But it's not just that." She glanced back toward the arena, where her opponent had fought.

"As you said, beastkin fight differently," she continued, thinking aloud as she tried to piece together her unease. "But this one…..it's not just the speed or strength; there's something… urgent about their movements. Like he's fighting with a certain desperation."

Lucavion's smirk softened, a glint of understanding in his eyes as he nodded for her to continue. It was rare for her to admit feeling unsettled, and he seemed to recognize that there was more behind her words than mere nerves.

"He looks young, but… it's like he's willing to risk injury, as though holding back isn't even an option for him," she said, frowning slightly. "It's strange to fight someone who fights with that level of abandon. It feels… wrong." She couldn't quite explain the feeling, but something about her opponent's fighting style unsettled her. The way he moved was like someone who had learned to push past pain, almost as if he were used to treating every battle as a life-or-death encounter.

Lucavion's gaze sharpened, his tone quiet but thoughtful. "You are indeed sharp."

Lucavion didn't elaborate further, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Regardless of whatever it is," he said finally, his tone firm yet calm, "just go out there and prove what you need to. That's it."

Valeria met his gaze, feeling a faint prickle of suspicion at his words. The way he'd spoken—so careless, yet with an underlying familiarity—made her wonder if he knew something about the beastkin boy.

But Lucavion offered no further insight, and his expression remained closed, leaving her with only more questions. Deciding not to press him, she pushed her unease aside, reminding herself to stay focused.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, more to herself than to Lucavion. She turned away, making her way down toward the staging area where her armor awaited. As she walked, she could still feel the weight of Lucavion's gaze on her, his unspoken words echoing in her mind.

Once in the preparation area, Valeria methodically strapped on her armor, feeling the familiar weight settle over her shoulders. The metallic clink of each piece, the well-worn leather of her gloves, all of it helped steady her nerves.

She adjusted the hilt of her sword, feeling the cool metal beneath her fingers, grounding her. Whatever mysteries surrounded her opponent, she knew her own purpose here: to test her skill, to refine her strength, to prove her own path.

"VALERIA! OLARION! VALERIA! OLARION! VALERIA!"

"GO, LADY KNIGHT! GET THEM!"

Stepping out into the arena, the roar of the crowd washed over her. The air felt thick with anticipation as her boots hit the sand, the weight of her armor grounding her in the moment.

She looked at the lounge, and there, saw him observing the field….

And well, it did take a small effect.

Across from her, the beastkin boy stood waiting, his posture loose and unguarded, but his eyes sharp, studying her with the same intensity she'd come to expect from him.

'Yeah…..regardless of what it is…

Valeria took her stance, her fingers flexing around the hilt of her sword. She felt the familiar surge of adrenaline, the steady beat of her pulse in her ears. Her gaze met his, unyielding, and she could see that same fierce determination mirrored back at her.

'A really fierce gaze…'

It was weird for someone this young to have such a gaze.

'I wonder what happened.'

She was curious.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!"

But when the announcer's voice echoed through the arena, signaling the beginning of the match, Valeria steeled herself, her focus narrowing to the figure in front of her.

'Young or not…..This person managed to pave his way through the tournament….they must be strong.'

That is why, she would not underestimate him.

This was her moment, and whatever unknowns lay between them, she would face him head-on.

********

On the other hand as the fight was about to start, Lucavion's gaze was focused on a certain young boy.

"Found you."

It was one of the people that he wanted to come to know about.

'Vitaliara.'

He called to Vitaliara in his head.

Today, he was going to prevent the fate of some people from going down.

Chapter 221: The Beastkin (2)

What does it mean to be in a novel?

The advantages of living in a world derived from a novel.

In a novel, everything is designed with purpose. Take the villains, for instance. To create a compelling antagonist, the author has to build them with layers, history, and motives. These aren't just obstacles—they're people, often crafted to make the reader connect with them, even sympathize, despite their actions.

It's just that in a story, every villain has a past, right? And as a reader, you learn about that past, you understand what twisted them into what they became. And when they're written well, those pasts aren't there just for show—they bind the characters to the readers, creating empathy, or at the very least, understanding.

One would know what these people have gone through, where they've faltered, and the choices that drove them.

I kept my gaze fixed on the arena below, eyes zeroing in on Valeria and the young foxkin standing across from her. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, their energy infectious, but my mind was focused elsewhere, piecing together details I knew all too well.

One of the main reasons I came to Andelheim was, of course, to make a name for myself, to win this tournament, and to start establishing a reputation. But there was more to it than that—a deeper reason tied to this city and the people in it. Andelheim wasn't just a place for fame; it was a city heavy with the past of certain characters, key pieces woven into the background of this world.

The boy standing across from Valeria was one of those pieces. One half of a pair of foxkin siblings, young beastkin who'd suffered more than most could imagine. Slaves to some bastard who'd twisted their lives beyond recognition, both this boy and his sister had been nothing but tools in the hands of a cruel master. In the story, they hadn't had a chance to escape; pain and anger had festered until it warped them, leaving them vengeful and ruthless.

The boy would grow into a formidable villain—a blade honed by years of suffering, a force of vengeance that would one day shake the story. His sister would follow a similar path, her innocence buried beneath bitterness and survival instincts.

But they hadn't started as villains. Not really. This world, meticulously crafted to create the deepest antagonists, had pushed them to the edge. And here I was, standing on the edge of their story, knowing more than they would ever understand about the forces that shaped them.

"Found you," I murmured under my breath, like confirming the final piece of a puzzle. The tournament had brought them here, and for once, I had a chance to alter that path.

I shifted in my seat, watching Valeria and the boy lock eyes, feeling the weight of the moment.

'Vitaliara,'

I called silently, and her familiar voice responded almost immediately, echoing within my mind.

[Yes?]

I kept my gaze fixed on the boy, watching the tension in his stance, the subtle fury simmering just below his composed exterior. '

Can you sense anything... unusual about him?

' I asked.

She fell silent, focusing on the boy from afar. A moment later, her voice returned, thoughtful but edged with something darker. [The amount of resentment and death energy he's carrying… it's not normal. Far from it. For one so young, he's seen far more than most, and the energy of it clings to him like a shadow.]

Her words confirmed what I'd suspected. This wasn't just a kid fighting in a tournament. This was someone who'd been forced to confront the worst life had to offer, someone already tainted by darkness.

As I watched the boy, Vitaliara's voice returned, quieter but tinged with a note of disgust. [There's something else,] she murmured, as if hesitant to speak. [A binding magic… It's faint but insidious, woven deep within him. Like chains, though more refined. Not just any magic—this is binding magic of the cruelest kind.]

Her words echoed what I'd already guessed.

Slave pacts.

Brutal magic that latched onto the spirit, leaving no freedom. Only obedience. I nodded to myself, the pieces of this twisted puzzle slotting into place with a sickening certainty.

'Can you locate the one responsible?

' I asked silently. '

You should be able to trace the connection, now that your strength has returned.'

The weight of her regained power was undeniable.

She'd grown far stronger in recent days as she had recovered her energy from the two of her 'subordinates?'

[Indeed,] she replied, her voice sharper, brimming with purpose. [In fact, this might be easier than usual—whoever bound him wasn't cautious, likely confident that no one would detect it. But be warned, Lucavion; the connection could be fragile. I'll need a moment.]

'Take the time you need,'

I assured her, my gaze remaining steady on the boy below. The arena was charged with excitement, oblivious to what lay beneath the surface of this match.

All the better. Thanks to the scene I'd stirred up moments ago, the attention was still on me. Slipping away now, or making any rash moves, would invite a hundred suspicious glances.

Also, it was not like this was for the worse.

'I can't act immediately.'

In the novel, it was revealed that these kids were not just threatened by the Slave Pact. They were also being threatened by the people of their village, as all of them were captured.

'Though…..'

Well, the sad part is, that they were already sold.

These foxkin siblings thought they were fighting for something—their freedom, perhaps, or the hope that their village was safe. But I knew the bitter truth.

The master who held them had woven more than chains; he had built an illusion, a shimmering, hollow promise that bound them as tightly as the pact.

Somewhere in their minds, they clung to the belief that their people were safe, hidden away in a place where they could live in peace. But that "sanctuary" was no more than a mirage, a carefully crafted lie to keep the siblings compliant.

In time, they'd learn the truth. I remembered the scene vividly: the moment when one of the foxkin, a friend from their village, was found in a noble's quarters—a baron who had purchased him as if he were livestock.

It was that terrible revelation, that silent confirmation of betrayal, that shattered whatever fragile hope the siblings had held onto.

And that was when their lives twisted beyond redemption. They didn't merely lose hope; they became consumed by fury, a rage so fierce it broke through the bindings of their pact, even though pain wracked their bodies with every rebellious thought.

They fought back against their master and his allies, driven by a hatred so deep that it gave them the strength to defy even death.

In the story, it was then, at their lowest, their bodies beaten and on the verge of collapse, that a shadowed organization appeared—a group that thrived on the fractured, the vengeful, the broken.

They promised the siblings power, guidance, and a path to vengeance. The siblings accepted, not because they wanted salvation, but because they wanted retribution, no matter the cost.

CLANK!

But as I was lost in my thoughts, the sudden act of weapons clashing brought me back to reality.

'Well…..Let's see what you can do, against an opponent like this, My Lady Knight.'

Would she emerge victorious, or not….It was time to find that fact.

********

As the match between Valeria and the young beastkin boy was about to begin, the crowd's murmur quieted, a hush settling over the arena.

Valeria's fingers flexed around the hilt of her sword, her mind focused but her instincts still uneasy.

–SWOOSH!

The moment the match began, the boy charged forward, his movements a blur of speed and intensity. Valeria tensed, surprised by how quickly he closed the distance, his bare hands clawed and ready. Despite his unarmed approach, every muscle in his body was coiled, radiating a fierce, predatory energy.

She raised her Zweihander, intending to meet his attack head-on, but the boy moved with an agility that was hard to follow. He sidestepped her initial swing, ducking low before springing up, his claws slashing with surprising force.

"Fast—!"

CLANK!

She blocked, but the impact of his strike reverberated through her arms, nearly causing her to lose her footing.

SWOOSH!

'That strength…!'

she thought, shocked by the raw power behind his small frame. It was as if a truck had collided with her, each strike landing with a weight that belied his young age and small size.

Valeria adjusted her stance, bracing herself against his relentless assault. But the foxkin boy wasn't giving her any reprieve—he twisted around her, his movements fluid and precise, each strike aimed at her weak points with uncanny accuracy.

She managed to deflect some blows, but each time she blocked, she felt the sheer force of his attacks testing the limits of her defenses.

'This boy… he fights like a beast….'

The fight was not going to be an easy one. She could see that.

Chapter 222: The Beastkin (3)

The foxkin boy leaped at Valeria again, his body a flash of movement as he sprang high above her, his claws gleaming with a brilliant, raw light.

SWOOSH!

She recognized the technique instantly, an innate skill of the beastkin.

'Their natural ability to channel mana without formal training… incredible.'

She could feel the weight of his mana pressing down on her, radiating from his entire body, amplifying his power and speed. It was a level of skill that required years of training for most Awakened, yet he wielded it effortlessly, instinctively.

SLASH! SLASH!

As he descended, claws slashing through the air, Valeria raised her Zweihander, bracing herself against his attack.

CLANK!

She managed to intercept his strike with a swift parry, her blade catching his claws in a clash that sent sparks flying. But even as she deflected his blow, she could feel the immense force behind it pushing against her, unrelenting.

'I can't gauge his strength…'

she thought, frustration and focus mingling as she searched for any sign of weakness.

His movements were so unpredictable, each strike coming from a new angle as if he were a whirlwind of claws and raw energy.

The boy spun around her, and she felt a surge of danger as he launched another rapid assault, claws gleaming as they struck at her side.

CLANK!

She barely dodged, her armor catching a glancing blow, the sheer impact leaving her side stinging.

Her gaze locked on his, and she could see the intensity, the hunger in his eyes—there was no hesitation, only pure, honed instinct. She tightened her grip, her focus narrowing.

'If I don't adapt, he'll tear right through me.'

That feeling.

It was really similar to what she felt at that time when she fought with 'him.'

'Similar, but not as desperate.'

Maybe, this boy was the rawness that Lucavion had possessed before? Maybe, Lucavion was also like this boy at one point in his life.

Whatever it was, the boy's way of fighting was simply fighting to kill, without any type of systematic technique at all.

The boy lunged forward, his body a blur as he closed the distance in an instant, claws outstretched. Valeria steadied herself, her grip firm, her breath controlled.

'I've fought this intensity before… I won't underestimate him.'

Without hesitation, she channeled her mana from her core, feeling it surge through her, spreading warmth and power across every muscle and tendon. She focused her energy into her Zweihander, her family's technique coming alive as she whispered,

"Sword of Olarion: Knight's Arc."

The blade pulsed with energy, shimmering as her mana flowed into it, charging each inch of steel. As the boy's claws aimed for her, she swung her sword in a wide, powerful arc. Mana trailed behind the blade, creating a radiant half-circle that carved through the air, a brilliant arc of energy surrounding her.

SWOOSH!

The arc of mana cut across the space between them, colliding with the boy's incoming attack.

BOOM!

The raw force of her strike sent a powerful shockwave through the arena, stopping him in his tracks as his claws met the mana-infused steel. His fierce expression flickered with surprise, his body forced back from the sheer impact.

The energy left in the wake of her blade hung in the air for a moment, a shimmering half-circle that radiated strength and precision—a testament to her family's refined technique.

The boy landed on his feet a short distance away, his fierce gaze still locked onto hers, but Valeria could see the glint of newfound caution in his eyes.

He'd felt her strength, her control, and realized this was a battle that would require more than raw instinct.

"Grrr…."

The boy's eyes narrowed, a renewed focus settling over him as he crouched low, his muscles tensed.

SWOOSH!

Valeria tightened her grip, bracing herself as he launched forward with even greater speed, his claws now gleaming with his own mana, a wild, feral energy emanating from them.

'So, he's no stranger to channeling mana himself,'

she thought, readying herself as he closed the gap.

CLANK!

Their weapons met again, her Zweihander clashing against his sharpened claws. The force of his strike reverberated through her arms, more powerful and controlled than before. She gritted her teeth as his claws scraped against her armor, leaving faint lines across the metal. He pulled back quickly, only to strike again from a different angle, his movements fluid and relentless.

'He's learning with each move?'

Valeria realized, a flicker of respect mingling with her focus.

The boy moved with fierce determination, his strikes unrelenting as he unleashed a barrage of attacks. Valeria countered, her Zweihander forming arcs of energy that illuminated the air, but his speed and unpredictable movements kept her on her guard.

SLASH!

One of his claws slipped past her defense, grazing her shoulder as she twisted to deflect his next blow.

"Argh-"

Pain flared through her arm, the sting sharp, but she held her ground, her focus unwavering. She countered with a powerful swing of her blade, forcing him to retreat a few paces.

'This kid….'

But he was undeterred, his fierce gaze fixed on her as he came at her again, his strikes even faster. Valeria met him head-on, channeling more mana into her Zweihander, the blade gleaming brighter with each swing.

CLASH!

The impact forced them both back, but the boy recovered instantly, pressing forward with a burst of speed.

'Legs!'

He spun low, sweeping his claws toward her legs, and though she managed to deflect part of his strike, his other claw grazed her thigh, slicing through her armor with surprising ease.

Blood seeped from the fresh wound, but Valeria pushed the pain aside, her focus sharp as ever.

'I can't let him wear me down…'

she thought, adjusting her stance as she prepared to counter his next attack.

Their movements intensified, the air thick with mana as both fighters clashed again. Sparks flew with each impact, the force of their strikes shaking the arena floor. But the boy was relentless, his strikes hitting harder, his instincts guiding him with deadly precision.

With a final, swift move, he lunged forward, his claw catching her arm just below the shoulder. Valeria felt the sting of pain once more as his claws scraped against her skin, another reminder of his ferocity.

'Come!'

But this time, she didn't falter. Gritting her teeth, she swung her Zweihander in a wide arc, her mana surging with a newfound resolve as she drove him back.

"Sword of Olarion: Knight's Arc."

SWOOSH!

The blade swung in an arc, as she had utilized the same technique.

'I finally get it.'

Was that pain? Or was that not being able to reach her opponent and being left completely defenseless?

Or was that something else?

But, she started getting 'it'.

'What I need to do.'

She was a knight.

A fighter who was supposed to protect people, standing before them.

But, what kind of a knight she was?

That was what she did not know.

What kind of a knight the Olarion family needed to be?

For some reason, she felt like she started getting it.

As the boy charged forward, Valeria's gaze was locked on him, her focus sharper than ever. She could feel a newfound clarity settling within her, a sense of purpose that had eluded her until now.

With calm precision, she channeled her mana, letting it flow from her core into her Zweihander. The blade hummed with energy, and she raised it high, then brought it down in a powerful vertical slash aimed at the space between them.

SWOOSH!

A wave of energy erupted from her sword, a vertical arc of mana slicing through the air toward him. The boy's reflexes kicked in instantly, and he dodged to the side, his movements swift and agile.

But this time, Valeria didn't wait for him to strike again. She advanced, meeting him head-on, her body aglow with mana, each step grounded with the power of her family's art.

Her Zweihander shone with a brilliance that reflected her intent, and she could feel her pulse steady, her resolve unshakable. She was done hesitating. She would face him with all she had.

The boy reacted, his body twisting as he raised his leg to deliver a powerful kick aimed at her face, his mana surging through his limbs. Valeria saw it coming, the raw intent behind the strike and braced herself.

CLANK!

She lifted her Zweihander just in time, intercepting his kick with the flat of her blade. The impact reverberated through her sword, but she held firm, refusing to be driven back.

Their eyes met, his fierce and wild, hers calm and resolute, and for a moment, time seemed to pause, each assessing the other.

And then, with a swift shift of her stance, she pushed back, using his momentum against him. He staggered, thrown off balance, and she took advantage, bringing her sword down in a controlled arc, her body shining as she moved.

'This is who I am.'

As her blade came down, she felt the clarity within her solidify.

'Me and that boy is different.'

She wasn't just fighting to win—she was fighting as the knight she was meant to be.

Chapter 223: The Beastkin (4)

The boy crouched low, his claws flexed and ready, his breaths coming in steady, focused draws. He met the gaze of the pink-haired knight before him—this Valeria—and felt an unexpected stillness in the air.

Her stance was solid, that big sword gleaming with mana, yet her expression was unreadable. He searched her eyes for the hostility he was accustomed to, the sneer of superiority he had seen in every opponent before her. But there was none. Her gaze was calm and focused, but devoid of hatred.

His teeth clenched in frustration. Why was she just standing there, watching him with those calm, unwavering eyes? Was she mocking him? Did she think he wasn't worth the effort? A low growl rumbled from his chest, his body tensing as he prepared to charge. Whatever her intentions, he had no choice. He needed to win. This wasn't just another fight—it was his chance at survival.

With a swift, fluid motion, he lunged forward, his claws glowing with mana as he struck at her side.

But she was ready, her blade meeting his attack with an effortless parry. Sparks flew, and he felt the impact jolt through his arms, more powerful than he'd expected. She countered swiftly, her sword slicing in a controlled arc that forced him to dodge back, his balance wavering.

Undeterred, he pressed on, launching another series of rapid strikes, his movements quick and unpredictable. His claws flashed with energy as he slashed at her from every angle, trying to find a gap in her defenses. But the woman moved with smooth precision, her blade weaving a shield of mana that blocked every attack he threw her way. No matter how fast or fierce his strikes, her sword was always there to meet them.

The boy gritted his teeth, frustration boiling within him. He poured more mana into his claws, his attacks growing faster, more desperate.

Yet each time he struck, she deflected him with an unshakable calm, her blade flowing through the air like water, each motion deliberate and precise.

'Why…?'

he wondered, his mind racing.

'Why can't I break through?'

It was as if she had no weak points, her defenses unyielding as stone. And that gaze—steady, unbothered—only added to his growing despair.

She wasn't fighting to harm him. She wasn't even fighting with hatred. It was as though she was fighting with a purpose he couldn't comprehend, a resolve that went beyond the arena.

His breath came faster now, his strikes losing their edge, his strength faltering as he felt the tide of the battle shift. Her movements became more confident, more assertive, each swing of her sword pushing him back, forcing him into a defensive stance.

He tried to dig in, tried to summon the last of his strength, but it was slipping through his grasp like sand.

She advanced, step by step, her mana-laden blade glinting in the dim arena light as she drove him back, her form unbreakable. He could feel the weight of her presence bearing down on him, like a mountain standing in his path, immovable.

With each clash, each parry, he felt himself weakening, his instincts struggling to keep pace with her refined technique. He had fought to survive, always driven by raw need and desperation, but this… this was different. Her strength wasn't born of desperation—it was something honed, focused, with a purpose he couldn't understand.

Finally, a powerful strike from her sword sent him staggering back, his legs trembling as he barely managed to stay upright. He blinked, his breath ragged, his heart hammering. The pain from his wounds throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a relentless reminder of his failing body.

But she didn't press forward. She paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him—not with pity, not with superiority, but with something else.

Understanding, perhaps. Recognition.

"Why…" he muttered, the words slipping out in a whisper, barely audible.

Her expression remained calm, unwavering. She didn't answer him, but her silence seemed to say more than words could.

He steadied himself, his mind screaming to keep fighting, to give it everything he had left. He had to win. If he didn't…

But even as he tensed to strike, he knew. He could feel it deep within him, a cold realization sinking into his bones. No matter how hard he fought, no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break through her defenses. She was beyond him, a force he couldn't overcome with raw instinct alone.

And, for the first time, he felt a pang of helplessness. The gnawing, suffocating feeling of being outmatched, of facing an opponent who fought for something he could never understand.

As he looked into her eyes, he saw a different kind of strength there—a strength not bound by anger or hate but by purpose.

And it made him question, if only for a moment, why he was fighting at all.

But he shook the thought away, his fierce gaze returning. He would fight, even if it wasn't enough. He would keep fighting, even as her strength pushed him further back, even as he felt his own slipping away.

Because, in the end, he had no other choice.

"I am sorry."

He may not be able to hold himself back if he were to use this….

"Grrr…."

The boy's breaths came in ragged gasps as he drew deeper into himself, calling forth a power he knew he should never touch. His heart pounded, his muscles tensed, and he felt a wave of raw energy ripple through his body, fierce and untamed. He could feel it building inside him—a dangerous, forbidden power that he had kept buried, the primal force that every beast kin was warned against unleashing.

I'm sorry,

he thought, as if whispering to his own fading self, the part of him that feared losing control, the part that knew this power came at a cost.

"Grrr…" His growl turned into a deep rumble, reverberating through the arena. His claws elongated, each one gleaming with a deadly edge, and coarse fur began to sprout along his arms, shoulders, and chest, as his body took on a more feral shape. His spine arched, his muscles expanded, and his entire frame pulsed with newfound strength, his transformation embodying the raw essence of the beast within him.

*******

The crowd gasped, recoiling as they sensed the change, feeling the air shift with a dark, powerful presence. Valeria's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening around her Zweihander as she steadied herself, watching him with a new level of intensity.

The boy's vision sharpened, his senses attuning to every sound, every breath, every heartbeat around him. He felt more alive than ever before, a primal thrill coursing through his veins. The energy within him surged, spreading into his limbs, infusing every muscle with untamed strength.

His lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharp, predatory teeth, and his gaze locked onto Valeria, fierce and wild. For the first time, he felt he had the strength to challenge her, the strength to break through the defenses that had seemed unbreakable moments before.

Without another thought, he sprang forward, his body a blur of speed and power, his claws poised to strike. He moved faster than he ever had before, the energy within him propelling him forward like a force of nature, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: overcoming the obstacle before him.

Valeria's eyes widened, and in an instant, she shifted her stance, her Zweihander ready to intercept him. But his speed was blinding, his claws tearing through the air with terrifying precision as he closed the distance.

SWOOSH!

He struck, his massive claws meeting her blade with a force that sent a resounding shockwave through the arena. The impact jarred Valeria's arms, her feet digging into the ground as she braced herself against the onslaught.

But he was relentless, his claws slashing again and again, each blow heavier, stronger, as though he were a storm unleashed.

Valeria gritted her teeth, her focus unwavering as she held her ground, deflecting each strike with controlled precision. But she could feel the difference—the sheer, feral force behind his attacks was unlike anything she had faced before. Each clash sent sparks flying, his claws leaving faint marks across her blade, his power pressing against her defenses like an unyielding tide.

The boy roared, his strikes intensifying as he pressed forward, his transformed body moving with a fluidity and strength that belied his young age. He attacked with a ferocity that bordered on desperation, his instincts urging him to break through, to win at any cost.

But Valeria's focus only sharpened, her own energy amplifying in response. She matched his speed, her movements a calculated dance as she countered his frenzied attacks with practiced skill. Her Zweihander became an extension of her will, each swing precise, each parry executed with calm purpose.

The boy's frustration mounted. No matter how much power he unleashed, no matter how hard he struck, she remained unyielding, her strength a barrier he couldn't break.

He let out a guttural snarl, his muscles coiling as he prepared for a final, all-out strike. Channeling every last bit of energy, he lunged forward, his claws blazing with mana, his gaze fierce and determined.

But as he launched his attack, Valeria's eyes met his, steady and resolute. She anticipated his move, her stance shifting as she prepared to counter with everything she had.

With a swift, fluid motion, she raised her Zweihander, her mana surging through the blade as she brought it down in a powerful arc, her voice a calm whisper of intent.

"You really were strong."

–Sword of Olarion: Ripple of Solace.

Their attacks met in a burst of energy, the force of their clash sending a shockwave rippling across the arena. The boy felt his body shudder as her blade cleaved through his defenses, the impact overwhelming him, his own strength faltering against her refined skill.

He staggered back, his vision blurring as the energy within him began to wane, his transformation receding. His body trembled, exhaustion seeping into his bones, his breath ragged as he struggled to stay on his feet.

Valeria lowered her sword, her gaze softening as she looked at him. There was no triumph in her eyes, no trace of cruelty—only a calm understanding, a quiet respect.

The boy swayed, his body heavy, his strength spent. He looked at her one last time, his fierce gaze dimming, and in that moment, he understood.

He had given everything, and still, it hadn't been enough. But for the first time, he felt a strange sense of peace, as though he had fought with everything he was, and that… was enough.

With a quiet sigh, he collapsed to his knees, his gaze lingering on her as the world faded around him.