Two combatants stood facing one another. What now? Tristan paused, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Yet, one thought cut through the chaos with piercing clarity: he had no desire to fight Garfield. But before he could voice this, Garfield spoke.
"Brother, I need to win this. I'm sorry, but I must fight you," he said, gripping his axe, determination radiating from every fiber of his being.
Tristan exhaled deeply.
'This determination far outweighs my hate... No, I don't hate Garfield. I can't channel the blade's strength. And truthfully, I doubt I could match him,' Tristan thought, silently.
He kept his sword sheathed and stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between them.
"I wasn't meant to be here to begin with, and you've worked harder than I ever did," he said as he stopped before the golden-haired boy.
Placing a steady hand on Garfield's shoulder, Tristan looked him in the eye. "You deserve this victory, and I won't take it from you. I forfeit."
Sylvia descended to the battlefield. Her expression bore traces of disappointment, but she accepted his decision with grace.
"Tristan Merigold has forfeited the match, making Garfield the winner and the number one ranked examinee!" the Headmaster declared.
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, their excitement filling the Colosseum. Joy overflowed, not only for the result but also for the outstanding performances of the two Middle District boys. They cheered their names, voices united in admiration.
"Tristan! Tristan! Tristan!" they cried.
Then, with renewed energy, they shouted even louder:
"Garfield! Garfield! Garfield! Garfield!"
Garfield smiled—not his usual grin, but one of deep, glowing pride. He was proud of his roots, proud of the man he had become. He was Garfield Frutia of the Middle District, and that was an undisputed fact. A small, fleeting smile played on Tristan's lips—a smile only one person noticed.
In the stands, a silver-haired maiden clapped gently. That faint smile on Tristan's face sparked something inside her. She didn't know why, but it made her smile too.
Darren, noticing, leaned closer. "My lady, it's been a while since I've seen you smile like that. Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?"
"No, I'm fine. I'm just... really happy," she replied, her eyes still locked on Tristan.
Darren followed her gaze, saw it fixed on Tristan, then glanced at Amelia. A knowing smile tugged at his lips.
"Brother!" Garfield shouted, rushing to embrace Tristan.
Tristan deftly ducked under the incoming hug and turned with a blank expression.
"You're not one for emotion, brother. I get it. We're men, after all," Garfield said.
Tristan licked his lips, then spoke quietly.
"Congratulations. You earned this win. Maybe one day we can have a proper fight."
Garfield's grin widened. He moved in for another hug, but Tristan dodged again with swift precision.
Although a bit disappointed, Garfield's radiant smile remained undimmed.
Sylvia approached the two with solemn pride.
"You both have done well and have proven your worth here today. Be proud. Your potential surpasses anything I've seen in years. Many crumble under pressure, but I believe neither of you will. Welcome to Constella Academy."
The representatives from the amphitheater looked down with approving nods—even Decker.
"You should get that checked out," Sylvia said, gesturing to the burn on Garfield's arm.
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about it. Yes, Headmaster. I'll see to it right away," Garfield said. He slung his axe onto his back and walked away, giving Tristan a farewell wave. Tristan saw it but only turned away in silence.
"You both have remarkable potential," Sylvia said to Tristan. "But him... his potential is nearly terrifying."
Tristan looked up at the sky and sighed. "I know. I think I knew before anyone else."
He slowly began walking toward the exit of the Colosseum. Awaiting him were Amelia in her weathered cloak and Darren.
"Congratulations. Second place isn't too bad, if you ask me," Darren said, a playful smile on his lips.
Amelia remained silent, her expression unreadable.
"You're not going to say anything, Ice Princess?" Tristan asked.
She sighed and met his gaze.
"You did well..."
Tristan's heart skipped a beat, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"...but you could have done better than second place."
The smile vanished.
Darren chuckled at their interaction, amused by the dynamic between them.
"Well done!" came a familiar voice. Ruben approached the trio.
Amelia quickly lowered her hood, concealing her face. Ruben noticed but said nothing, his broad smile and cheerful tone undisturbed.
"I expected something from you in the third stage, but barging back in? That surprised even me."
"I wasn't planning to compete, but that Rivers kid got on my nerves," Tristan replied.
"I could see that. Let me be the first to say, your performance was impressive," Ruben said.
"Thank you."
Ruben paused, then glanced at the cloaked figure behind Tristan.
"Is she a friend of yours?" he asked, trying to catch a glimpse beneath the hood.
Tristan quickly stepped in. "Yes, she is."
Ruben smiled. "All right then."
As he turned to leave, he paused and looked back.
"Do you have a place to stay?"
"I'm staying at Mr. Kenway's boutique, so yes."
Ruben shook his head. "Once you're admitted into the Academy, traveling between districts will be nearly impossible. You'll need to stay in the High District."
Tristan's face portrayed a flicker of concern. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. But I have a solution. Come stay with us."
Tristan paused, trying to process the offer. "You want me to live in Green Manor?"
"Of course, that is... if you want to. I'm sure Amelia would be happy to have you there," Ruben said with a sly grin.
"Thank you. I might take you up on that."
Ruben waved as he climbed into his carriage and rode off.
Tristan turned to find Amelia's face flushed bright red.
"What's wrong with you? Why's your face so red?" he asked.
"Shut up. I'm going home," she muttered.
She walked away briskly, leaving Tristan to wonder what he'd done.
Darren simply watched them, smiling quietly to himself.