The master watched the fight unfold from the shadows of the arena, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he followed every move the boy made. His eyes narrowed in disdain as he saw the struggle, the faltering defenses, the sheer desperation radiating from his so-called disciple.
Each time the boy stumbled, the master’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching as the bitter taste of disappointment filled his mouth. He had trained the boy and invested time, resources, and countless punishments to ensure this moment would end in victory. Yet here he was, watching his pawn falter, his potential slipping away with every step back.
“Pathetic,” he hissed under his breath, his voice laced with anger as he saw the final clash, the decisive blow that left the boy staggering, kneeling in defeat before the pink-haired knight.
The master’s fists shook, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, barely contained. The boy had dared to fail him—after all the training, all the discipline, all the commands drilled into him. How could he have lost to her? A woman who hadn’t even fought with the hatred he expected, a knight who had shown mercy when she should have been ruthless.
A fury surged through him, hot and corrosive, as he realized the depth of his loss. The top prizes of this tournament were within reach—powerful artifacts, and rare elixirs that could elevate his standing and fuel his ambitions.
And he had placed all his hopes on this beastkin boy, believing he would tear through the competition, claw his way to victory.
All the boy had to do was make it into the top four.
Just four! He had trusted the boy to obey, to fulfill his purpose. And now that opportunity was gone.
“Useless,” he muttered, venom dripping from the word. He took a steadying breath, his mind whirring, calculating his next move even as rage clouded his thoughts. The boy’s failure would reflect on him, marking him as a fool for trusting this creature—a lowly beast kin—to succeed where humans should have triumphed.
For a brief moment, his eyes drifted back to the boy’s defeated form, still kneeling in the arena dirt. He could see the boy’s shoulders rise and fall with exhausted breaths, a sliver of defiance in his downcast gaze. That defiance only fueled his anger further.
The master sneered, his voice a dark whisper to himself. “You dared to lose. You dared to fail me.”
He considered his options, eyes narrowing as thoughts of punishment flickered through his mind. He couldn’t afford to lose the boy completely; there were still ways to use him, even in his disgrace. But the boy would learn, and would feel the weight of this failure tenfold. Every scar, every lash would remind him of the cost of defiance and weakness.
Clenching his fists, the master seethed, his thoughts circling around what he needed to do next.
Little did he know, a pair of feline eyes were watching his every move.
*********
As Valeria made her way back through the crowded corridors and the echoing cheers still reverberated in her ears, she saw Lucavion standing in a shadowed corner, observing her with an inscrutable expression. He was half-hidden, almost as if testing her ability to notice him, but she could tell from his slight smirk that he had been watching the entire match closely.
As she approached, Lucavion’s eyes met hers, glinting with a familiar, teasing warmth but tempered by something almost… respectful. “So, Olarion,” he drawled, his voice low and smooth, “not bad out there. Although,” he continued, his tone shifting to that of a subtle challenge, “I expected just a bit more flair. It seems the legendary precision of the knights is still intact, though.”
Valeria huffed, her weariness battling with her annoyance. “Flair?” she retorted. “I didn’t realize I was out here for your entertainment.”
Lucavion laughed softly, his gaze unwavering. “Oh, make no mistake, you certainly entertained me,” he replied, his eyes still holding that spark of curiosity. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, “But that wasn’t what I was most interested in.”
She felt his words settle heavily, laced with a mystery she couldn’t quite decipher. As much as she wanted to brush it off, his tone stirred something within her, igniting that stubborn drive to prove herself. Yet this time, it wasn’t out of competition—it was a strange urge to understand what he saw when he looked at her with that quiet intensity.
“Then what were you interested in, Lucavion?” she challenged, her voice just as low.
His smirk deepened. “That fire,” he said softly, almost thoughtfully. “The determination that refuses to waver, even against an opponent that fights with desperation instead of skill. It’s… rare.”
“That desperation?”
“Indeed.”
He said as they started walking out of the arena as a whole.
“Wait. Where are you going? Will you not watch the matches?”
“Let’s go get something to eat. There are still quite a lot of matches left.”
Valeria’s brow furrowed as she matched Lucavion’s casual stride. “You don’t want to watch your opponents? To see what they’re capable of?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. “I thought you’d be the type to study every advantage.”
Lucavion’s smirk softened into something almost playful. “Oh, it would be beneficial, of course,” he replied, glancing sideways at her with a glint in his eye. “But spending too much time watching your possible opponents? That’s a crutch for the weak, Valeria.” He shrugged casually, as if dismissing the very idea. “If you think you’re weak, by all means, stay back and observe.”
Valeria narrowed her gaze, her expression growing sharper. “I’d call it being cautious,” she replied, unruffled. “And no, I’m not arrogant like
some people
,” she added pointedly, her tone biting. “I can acknowledge my weaknesses easily enough, thank you.”
Lucavion chuckled, unfazed. “Acknowledging them, sure. Fixating on them, though—that’s the danger. You get so tangled up in the weaknesses you think you have that you forget the strengths you don’t know yet.” His voice had an edge of sincerity that surprised her, almost as if he were speaking from some private place of experience.
The words struck her in an unexpected way, and she felt herself pause, considering. It was true—she had a habit of zeroing in on every flaw, every area for improvement, often at the expense of her own confidence. She pressed her lips together thoughtfully before responding. “Fine,” she said, her tone softer but still defiant. “But I believe a little caution never hurts. Knowing what to expect, being prepared… It’s not a weakness. It’s just smart.”
Lucavion gave her an approving look, nodding as if to say her reasoning was fair. “I’ll give you that,” he replied. “But, the more time you spend just watching, the more information you will gather. And can you make use of all of them if you were to spend your whole time watching?”
Lucavion’s question lingered, and Valeria found herself considering it more deeply than she cared to admit. As frustrating as it was to acknowledge, his words made a certain kind of sense. Out of the 32 remaining contestants, only 15 of them could actually end up as her opponents. Even then, the odds of facing every single one were unlikely.
She felt her shoulders relax slightly, conceding the point in her mind. Trying to remember every possible technique, every potential threat, could cloud her focus rather than sharpen it. There was wisdom in not overwhelming herself with endless possibilities—particularly if she couldn’t capitalize on each of them effectively.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a low rumble from her stomach, and she realized just how much her previous match had taken out of her. She hated admitting any kind of weakness, even to herself, but the truth was undeniable: she was exhausted, and the prospect of food had started to sound increasingly tempting.
With a reluctant sigh, she fell into step beside him, though she kept her chin raised, masking her concession with as much dignity as possible. “Fine,” she said, her voice carrying a trace of resignation. “I’ll go with you. But I’m curious—where exactly are you planning to take us?”
Lucavion’s smirk grew, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, now that’s the right question,” he replied, clearly enjoying the fact that she was following him. “Where do you think we will go? The same place as we usually go.”
“The Iron Matron?”
“Yep.”
At the end of the day, it was the same place.