Noon.
The training yard was dead silent.
A circle carved of white stone, surrounded by marble pillars. Above, the royal family sat watching keenly. Sunlight bled through the clouds, casting a harsh glare over the polished floor.
At the center—I stood alone.
Sword in hand. Breath steady.
Across from me stood my opponent.
Galion Arment.
Leader of the Heralds.
A man whose tales soared through every corner of the kingdom. Twice my size, he loomed over me. His eyes—cold and glassy—like a predator ready to pounce. His armor was scarred and worn, a testament to years of survival.
He exhaled slightly, adjusting the grip on his sword.
The princess watched, her expression unreadable.
The king leaned forward in his seat, a smug grin playing at his lips.
Just off the grounds, I saw Raleigh. Still. Focused.
His attention fully taken by a battle not yet fought.
He had told me the rules of the duel:
No magic. No sorcery.
Steel only.
Until one of us yielded… or died.
"He will not yield,"
Sango's voice came.
I tried to ignore him. But I knew. Deep down, I knew—Galion would not yield.
Ding!
The bell rang.
I moved first.
He was bigger, so I believed he was slower.
I dropped my weight low, then surged forward—
Launched myself like a spear.
Straight ahead.
Straight at the monster of a man who didn't flinch.
Didn't move.
Didn't defend.
My instincts cried out for retreat.
But my pride… my pride demanded I finish the attack.
I pulled my sword, slicing toward his abdomen—
Nothing.
No impact. No blood.
My blade tasted air.
My eyes widened.
I was wrong.
He wasn't slower.
Instinct screamed again—this time louder:
Dodge right.
I twisted, sidestepped, arching my body—
Whoosh!
A violent gust of air exploded past me.
Steel missed by an inch.
Galion's blade had cut through where my chest had just been.
If I'd moved a fraction later, I'd be lying dead on the floor.
This time, I listened.
I hopped back, dropping into a defensive stance.
Galion didn't follow up.
He stood still.
Watching me.
Unmoving.
And so I stood still, too.
In that quiet moment, my mind began to race.
I ran scenarios.
Every attack I could throw. Every angle. Every feint.
But all I saw—
Was defeat.
I gripped my blade tighter, heart pounding.
What would he do?
When would he move?
"What are you doing?"
Sango's voice boomed in my head.
"Not now," I muttered.
"Have you lost your mind, kid?" he barked.
"Since when did you start thinking in a battle?"
His words irritated me. But they were what I needed to hear.
It was clear—I was being sized up.
Clear he was waiting for me.
But standing still… it wasn't in my nature.
I felt the heat return to my blood.
My pulse quickened.
My focus locked.
I gripped the hilt tight.
Dropped my stance.
Lower.
Breathed in.
Then—
Boom!
The force of my launch echoed through the hall.
My blade met resistance—
Clang!
Galion's sword.
He had defended.
His face, once unreadable, now held a flicker of surprise.
A grin slowly spread across his face, sending chills down my spine.
My instincts cried again.
Run. Retreat.
But no.
I wasn't running.
I threw a punch with my left hand.
He slipped past it—then returned the favor.
I dodged.
Another blow. I returned it.
Steel clashed. Fists followed.
An exchange of strikes. Sharp, relentless.
We moved like two dueling storms, but his storm was older. Deadlier.
Minutes passed—maybe seconds.
I couldn't tell.
Then—
He pushed me off.
I stumbled back, breath caught in my throat.
His stance lowered.
The ground beneath him trembled.
An attack.
Swift. Seamless.
Pain.
Pain numbed my body.
My mind clouded.
My legs turned to yarn.
I crumbled to the floor, blood building in my mouth.
I winced in pain.
My ribs were shattered.
One hit.
One hit was all it took.
Galion loomed over my body.
His eyes—cold and unreadable—endlessly stared down at me.
I tried to pull myself up.
Grabbing for support that wasn't there.
Each time, my legs crumbled beneath me.
"Do you yield?"
His voice came—deep, terrifying.
I winced harder, trying to answer… but the words refused to come.
Maybe that was a good thing.
The pain had climbed into my brain.
I wasn't thinking straight.
The words were there—right at the edge of my tongue—but each breath was agony.
"Don't you dare,"
Sango said.
His voice—a clear warning.
I held my tongue.
Pushed through the pain.
I gripped my sword, using it as a beam.
And with that—I pushed.
And pushed.
Until I was up.
Wobbling.
Barely.
But up.
My vision blurred.
The edges of the world swam in red.
Galion didn't move. He just… waited.
And I realized something.
He didn't see me as a threat.
How the hell was I meant to prove myself?
"Listen to me, kid. What you have to do is—"
"No." I cut Sango off.
"If I'm going to do this… I'll do it on my own."
My conviction was clear.
He said nothing else.
I pulled my sword from the ground.
Pointed it at Galion.
My mind was made up.
I always spoke of a warrior's pride.
But did I know what that meant?
I had only fought those weaker than me.
I had never met an obstacle like him.
But if I could get past him…
I would be stronger.
"Come at me then," he said.
No mockery in his tone.
His gaze—stone cold.
Again, my instincts screamed.
But my pride denied them.
I threw my sword to the ground.
The noise echoed across the marble hall.
The princess leaned forward, her expression now clear.
I stood low.
Lower than I had ever gone.
I am the Warhound, I told myself.
My fists clenched.
My breath—steady.
For a moment, the world felt still.
My gaze locked on Galion.
Then I saw it.
My possibility.
The one where I won.
A smile tugged at my lips.
My knees dropped.
Then—
Boom!
I launched again.
This time—no weapon.
Only will.
My heart raced,
But my instincts were calm.
Galion blocked—immediately.
I grinned.
That was the first condition.
I planted my feet, halting the charge.
Shifted my weight.
Changed direction mid-motion.
I was faster.
More agile.
I had surrendered to the rhythm of battle.
Galion turned—off-guard.
A mistake.
In a blink, I was below him.
Second condition—met.
His eyes widened.
He tried to jump back.
Too late.
I threw an uppercut straight into his jaw.
His head snapped back.
He staggered.
He swung—desperate.
I slipped under it, danced around the steel.
Then—another hit.
Straight to his side.
Crack!
His armor gave way—my hand driving through.
He screamed.
Then flew—
Out of the arena.
Up into the stands.
The royal family rose to their feet.
The king bit his lip, the bitterness plain on his face.
He watched the light leave his best knight
who passed out before he even hit the floor.
Raleigh's jaw dropped.
The hall was dead silent.