“Hey Sys?”

  Yeah?

  “He’s been standing there for quite a while now.”

  I can see that.

  Both Sys and I watched as Malo kept staring at the sky.

  The storm winds tried their best to make things a mess, to ruin the tall standing figure of Malo, but Malo’s expression of anger made them have no effect.

  But why was he so angry?

  I glanced at Sys, who glanced at me back.

  Got anything?

  “What?”

  Don’t you have any ideas on why he’s acting out all of a sudden?

  “Why would I?”

  Well, after that whole Sherlock Holmes deduction with those bandits, I’d assume you would do the same here.

  Back then? Oh, no, that was just a load of bullshit. It was just luck that it even managed to work out.

  “What about you? Aren’t you supposed to know everything in this world? Isn’t that your whole job?”

  First of all, it’s j*b, and second of all, I don’t know EVERYTHING in this world.

  Useless as ever.

  I’ve done a lot of things for you by the way.

  “Name one time.”

  Light work. Remember the time I-

  Sys froze as his face scrunched up in confusion.

  Uh…….

  The perfect counter when you’re about to lose an argument. 99% of the time, if you use this trick, the opposite side will falter and struggle to come up with a retort.

  If you use it well, you may even seem like a master manipulator.

  Oh yeah, like all those times I made a barrier for you to use when you were meditating.

  ……......I did say 99%.

  “You weren’t supposed to come up with an answer.”

  But I did, so now-

  “Beric.”

  Sys and I turned toward Malo. We could only see his back as he kept his eyes on the storm.

  “What’s the point of being strong, if you’re too weak to do what really matters?”

  He’s seriously asking me something like that now?

  I cleared my throat. “What do you mean?”

  Malo finally turned to face me.

  “I’ve been told my whole life that I’m strong. My ears are numb to it, and my mind has accepted it. My body knows it every time I crush someone in a contest of strength.” He raised his palm, staring at it as if the truth were etched there.

  “I believed in that strength. But was it a blessing? It earned me praise, but also fear, envy, and distance. I could win any fight, yet as it separated me from the weak, it separated me from everyone.”

  Rain slid over his hand as he lowered it.

  “With a gift like this, I was meant to be a hero, to fight for good. At least, that's what everyone else dreamed of. My classmates spent days training for glory, while I slept through lessons, wasting my days, drifting further from the future they dreamed of.”

  Malo’s gaze darkened.

  “And then I wondered, did I deserve this? Was it fair that someone so lazy was given power others could only dream of? That I could destroy their futures in an instant? Is my strength nothing more than a mirror, showing others how weak they are?”

  His words lingered in the air, heavy as the storm pressing down on us.

  “Is that all my strength is meant to be?” He fell silent for a moment, then turned back to me. This time there was no anger, but only sadness and exhaustion.

  “What do you think, Beric?”

  He hesitated, then asked, almost a whisper:

  “Why am I strong?”

  Hmph, he sounds just like you.

  “Hm?”

  This whole disliking your talents and gifts just because of how great it is? It’s just like you earlier, when you were somehow complaining of how good at magic you were. It doesn’t make sense.

  I don’t understand how someone could feel this way.

  I chuckled at that.

  What’s so funny?

  “No, you’re right. With talent, life should be simple. One should know how to live, what to do with this gift. It should be clear to them why they were so lucky.”

  They know the purpose behind it all.

  “But what if they try, and one day realize their talent alone isn’t enough? What if the thing that gave their life meaning, the very thing that made them feel they mattered, is beyond their control? What then? They would then be forced to search for another purpose, a different meaning, maybe worse, but still enough to convince them that their talent-”

  That their life-

  “Still matters.”

  I looked at Malo.

  The weight in his eyes, the exhaustion in his posture, I saw it all.

  I thought of the fleeting word he had whispered: “her…..”

  A woman. Perhaps his mother.

  Had he failed her? Disobeyed her? Embarrassed her? What had gone wrong?

  I shook my head as more rain battered my face.

  This rain really isn’t letting up.

  I guess that’s why they were debating on canceling this match. If two ordinary people were duking it out here, they might get washed away from the sheer amount of-

  Washed away?

  I met Malo’s eyes.

  They weren’t just the eyes of a competitor, but of someone carrying a deep, unbearable suffering.

  She had died on a rainy day, just like today.

  But, so what? Why did that make Malo resent his own strength?

  Did he feel that he could’ve stopped it?

  Does he think himself…….weak?

  That’s it. That’s why he’s so hung up on his own strength.

  That’s why he feels that his strength can only be proven through fighting.

  He couldn't protect her.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Malo.”

  He glanced at me.

  “I don’t mean to sound rude, but, did your mother pass away on a day like this? In the rain?”

  You seriously just asked that?

  Before I could shove Sys away, Malo’s eyes locked onto mine.

  “She did.”

  A gust of wind filled the silence that followed.

  “How did you know?”

  I swallowed. “I guessed. You mentioned a woman while cursing the rain. It wasn’t hard to piece together.”

  Malo’s face stayed unreadable. “I see.” He turned slightly. “But so what? What is it to you?”

  I moved to the side, forcing him to keep his eyes on me.

  “It’s everything. You’re letting the rain stop you from continuing.”

  “Because it’s ruined.”

  “Ruined? How does rain ruin a fight?”

  His glare sharpened. “It ruins everything. That’s all.” He turned away fully. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Of course I don’t understand!” I shot back.

  That froze him.

  “How could I? How do you expect anyone to understand when you won’t say a word? You think a storm ruins a fight, but you don’t explain why. You talk about the perfect fight, about enjoying it after countless boring ones, yet now, you’re the one walking away. Tell me how that makes sense!”

  Slowly, he turned back toward me.

  “You can’t expect me to understand,” I pressed, “not unless you tell me why.”

  His voice dropped. “……...Why should I?”

  “Because I need to hear it. I need to understand you.”

  Also to hopefully stall until the storm ends, but ay, that doesn’t sound as good.

  “There’s no point.”

  “There is. If you want me to understand, if you want anyone to, there’s a point.”

  He was silent, caught in thought. Then, finally: “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  He sighed, tilting his head back. The storm clouds began to break, cracks of light spilling through, but the sun was still caged.

  “Fine.” He looked at me fully now. “I’ll tell you.”

  As the rain thinned and the spectators drifted back to their seats, I waved Adam away to the back and stayed where I was.

  And I listened.

  I listened to the story of a boy who lived a quiet, lonely life. I waited as that boy grew, learning to treasure the ordinary. I stayed silent when I heard of the mother who had cared for him, and of the cruel fate that took her away. I held my breath as Malo’s voice cracked, just for a moment, and I understood more than he ever wanted to admit.

  When he finally finished, he shifted uneasily, the silence around him heavier than the storm had been. It was the first time, I realized, that he’d told anyone this story.

  His story.

  A sad one, too. The kind of tragic story that tugs at your heart whether you want it to or not. The kind of backstory a writer would slip in to make you care about a new character you barely knew. Sometimes those chapters feel forced, and you slog through them, waiting for the action to return. But when you reach the end, you can’t help but feel bad. Because you understand them. They’re not just side characters.

  They’re people with their own stories, with their own lives. Just like you, they suffered through unforgettable losses that they can never recover from fully.

  Ugh, ahsdhweras

  Sys was crying hard as he flew around in circles.

  I sighed as I watched him.

  But still, why does everyone have some sad backstory? Sprite, Malo, who’s next? Rune? This really is just like those internet comics I used to read.

  “Malo.”

  He met my eyes.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, I really am. I can’t ever imagine the pain of losing someone like her.”

  Just because I was close to in the past, it didn’t mean I truly felt the same as him.

  “But I still don’t understand why that means you can’t fight anymore. Like you said, rain is just rain. It’s dampened things, but it hasn’t destroyed the fight. We can still finish this.”

  Malo lowered his gaze.

  “No. It’s not the same. Even if we keep going, even if we pretend nothing’s changed, it still rained. The rain still came and caused irreparable damage. We can’t simply ignore it.”

  So that’s it.

  He doesn’t want to fight because fighting would make the rain feel insignificant, like it hadn’t stolen anything from him.

  “But isn’t this what you wanted?” I pressed. “A fight where you could go all out? Isn’t that what’s right here?”

  He hesitated. “No. But it is what you want.”

  “What I want?”

  Malo turned fully toward me.

  “Since I don’t want to continue, but you do, we’ll never agree. So how about this. I’ll forfeit.”

  What?

  Huuuuuuuh?!

  “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Malo asked bitterly. “To win. That’s what you said before, wasn’t it? ‘Every victorious person has won their match.’ Well, here it is. Your win.”

  I couldn’t answer.

  Sys and I both stood frozen, stunned into silence.

  Then, in front of me, the quest screen shimmered to life once more. A faint glow, a checkmark slowly etching itself across it.

  Clear.

  It was my win.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I’d actually won………..

  Screw that.

  I slapped the quest screen away, the glow vanishing, and grabbed the back of Malo’s shirt.

  His eyes widened at my sudden move.

  “What are you—”

  “That’s not what I want!” I snapped. “I didn’t train all those years just to accept a hollow victory from someone too scared to fight. I came here to prove myself.”

  I thrust my other hand toward the crowd.

  “And they didn’t come here for this either. They came to see a real fight, a great fight between two people giving everything they have."

  Malo clicked his tongue. “So what? That’s what you all want. What about me?”

  I yanked him closer, refusing to let him hide behind silence.

  “Then tell me. What do you want?”

  Malo’s lips tightened.

  Even now, he didn’t know what he wanted, or worse, he knew, but he couldn’t reach for it anymore.

  “Say it, Malo. What do you want?”

  He grimaced.

  “Malo,” I pressed, “what do you want?”

  His shoulders shook. Finally, he whispered-

  “For everything to go back.”

  The wish for things to return. The desire for the dreary present to go back to a time where things were simpler and better.

  The dream of a time and place where things were different.

  I knew that dream too well. And because I knew it, because I knew it so damn well, I had full confidence in my answer.

  “You know that’s not possible.”

  Malo bowed his head. "...........I know.”

  I let go of him.

  I backed up a bit to give him some space, but I couldn’t help but hear the tiniest of sniffles coming from him.

  “How do you do it?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Come back from it all.” His voice cracked. “Earlier in the fight, after I used my Form and I knocked you down, I saw that same look of despair. I thought you had given up just like the rest."

  He turned to me.

  “But you didn’t. You stood back up. How? How did you find the strength to get back up?”

  How did I get back up?

  Honestly, a good answer would be dumb luck.

  Or maybe not luck. Maybe it was just me realizing how damn stupid I was being.

  Holding back because of some dumb ego, continuously whining about my effort, yada yada yada.

  Is that just it then?

  No. Not really.

  There was also the orc.

  For a moment, when Malo was beating me down, I didn’t see him, but rather I saw the orc that almost killed me. It felt just like then. Back then, I came so close to losing everything. And now, in the very first match of the tournament, I felt the same fear. I felt like the three years I spent training were about to be erased in an instant.

  It terrified me. It was horrifying to realize that all my effort could vanish just because of bad luck, because I happened to face someone like Malo right out of the gate.

  That it was in the hands of fate.

  And it reminded me just how weak I really am.

  So was that why I got up?

  Ugh, again, hell no.

  I looked at Malo once more.

  This wasn’t an orc I was fighting.

  It was just some unfortunate guy who lost someone he loved.

  Why was I so scared?

  This wasn’t the same life-threatening battle that almost ended everything. It was just a preliminary round in some small tournament where I could showcase some things that I learned.

  It’s just an ordinary fight.

  Why did I-

  AH, what's wrong with me?!

  I facepalmed myself.

  “Malo, do you know why I came here?”

  “.........To prove yourself?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but it’s more than that.”

  It started with just a few throwaway words I overheard from some kid. They were just idle ramblings, nothing they even cared about. Mere words about wanting a different life, and yet, these mere words stuck to me instantly. They shouldn’t have, but they did. And maybe it’s because I used to think the same way.

  “Before our fight, I’ll be honest, I was worried. I wasn’t confident in facing you. I mean, come on, man. Just look at you. A giant against a kid like me? That’s not a match. That’s just bad luck.”

  The one thing none of us can touch, fight, or oppose, and yet it’s cruel enough to ruin your entire life.

  “I figured, at the very least, I’d hold my own with what I’ve learned.”

  In other words, I couldn’t do anything on my own.

  “And even then, even with all of that, you crushed me with your body-strengthening magic.”

  If this whole thing was some webcomic I found late at night, what would I think? What would I think of it all?

  For starters, I’d think the protagonist is an idiot.

  Why give up your entire existence just to learn soul magic if you’re not even going to master it? Why spend all that time training on some stupid sword? And why enter a tournament at all, this stupid ‘filler arc,’ when I should be focusing on becoming an adventurer, even if I had to do it illegally?

  Why waste everyone’s time?

  “You know, before we met, I actually found Elder Walden in the library.” I nodded toward the crowd where the old man sat. “By then, even before I saw you, I was already doubting myself.”

  I will always go back to that pitiful state.

  “I was stumbling through my words, trying to tell Elder Walden how I felt. I was terrified, and I wasn’t just worried about embarrassing myself, but scared that I would disappoint the people who believed in me. The Elders who trained me, my family who cheered me on, and Sprite, you remember her. She came with me hoping that if we won, it would show humans and spirits could coexist. She hoped that it would fix the relationship between us.”

  If he was here, he’d ramble on and on about how I’m being controlled by them.

  “I told him, in the mess of words I managed, about my worries.” I went on. “Of course, he just said he didn’t care whether I won or lost. It’s just like him to say that.”

  I wonder whether that made me feel better or worse.

  “But before I left, he reminded me why I even came here.”

  Why did I train?

  “I was considered a genius in magic and overall knowledge, but I was ordinary beside that. Aside from a more fit body, I had nothing else to show. That’s why I trained myself. I honed my body and learned the way of the sword, in hopes that I could become someone different. Someone who didn’t have to rely on magic to win.”

  Someone who didn’t have to rely on brutal ways to win.

  “You see, Malo, I actually want to be an adventurer.”

  Malo seemed shocked by that. “An adventurer?”

  I nodded. “I’ve always dreamed of becoming an adventurer, just like those past classmates of yours. I’ve always wanted to explore the world.”

  The freedom of adventure.

  But was I even capable of that?

  “But, seeing you, I began to seriously doubt myself.”

  Can I even become an adventurer?

  “I wondered if I wasted time and effort into something that I'd always be weak in."

  Was there a point in all of this?

  “Then, I asked myself, 'What am I here to prove'?”

  And then, like a bell tolling in the back of my mind, Elder Walden’s words came back to me.

  “Winning isn’t the only way to gain something.”

  I repeated them aloud to Malo.

  “That’s what he told me.”

  There are fights in life you can’t win. There are battles stacked against you from the start, filled with losses that aren’t a matter of effort, just inevitability.

  Life, in a sense, is just like that, isn’t it?

  It’s a long fight filled with both pain and suffering and just enough happiness to make you want to continue fighting, but still filled to the brim with beatdowns that make you wonder what you’re doing it all for. And at the end, even if you want to keep fighting, if you still have the will, it doesn’t matter. Because, from the moment you were born, from the moment you entered into the ring and embraced the limelight of the fight, your fate had already been decided.

  You were destined to lose.

  It’s terrifying, thinking that way, that life itself is an unwinnable match. That everything we pour ourselves into—happiness, dreams, love, worth—gets erased in the final round.

  Maybe that’s why I feared this fight. Maybe I thought I was destined to lose.

  But is that really right?

  “I never really thought about it until now, but he was right. I came here to prove something, not to walk out as champion. I don’t need a victory to prove anything. The fact that I’m even here, that alone proves-”

  The words caught in my throat. What exactly does it prove?

  That I’ve changed?

  No, I haven’t really changed.

  That I’m stronger?

  I’m still much weaker than Malo.

  Then what?..........

  I got it.

  “That my effort meant something.”

  Malo’s eyes widened, but then they hardened. “No, you’re wrong. Victory is necessary. You have to win to prove anything. That’s why we fight. That’s why we try to be the one who stands above the other. That’s the purpose behind a match.”

  Taken at face value, he wasn’t wrong. A fight is a test: prove your power, secure your place. To do that, you must win.

  “Malo, if that’s true, why do you fight?” I asked.

  He hesitated. “Why I fight?”

  “Don’t you remember Jain’s words? The perfect fight? For a fight that you could lose?”

  Malo’s fingers tightened into fists.

  “I—” he began, then forced it out. “I have to win. It’s why I live, and it’s what my talent is for. If I can’t even do that, if I can’t win despite everything I’ve been given, then my strength is meaningless.”

  He dropped his gaze. “I can’t protect anyone. I thought I could, that these hands could shield the people I care about.” He lifted them like proof and then, as if the motion hurt, let them fall. He swallowed hard. “But I couldn’t. Now I compete in small fights just to survive, and all I hear are the same hollow words: ‘You’re strong.’ But I’m not.”

  Ah, I got it.

  “You’ve always wanted to believe that your strength could be used in a different way.”

  But now, to provide meaning, even if it’s cursed, he has to settle with destroying his opponents and be forced to watch as he shatters the dreams and hopes of those who tried their best to just face him.

  “It doesn’t matter. If I can’t even do this, to win against you, then there’s no point in fighting any longer. There’s no point to even-”

  Malo didn’t finish the statement.

  So this is it. This is the cause behind his grief.

  He can’t find meaning in his own strength.

  But, something still confuses me.

  If he’s been fighting to keep up this facade of meaning, then what was he looking for?

  Didn’t he say that with me, with the Perfect Fight, that he could find enjoyment?

  “Malo, do you find fighting enjoyable?”

  “No.”

  Is that really true?

  The Malo from before truly looked revived, like he was about to enjoy the fight that was about to prevail-no, that’s exactly right.

  He was enjoying it.

  So then, why?

  Why is he now saying all of this?

  Why is he so much different than before?

  The rain.

  It’s a depression trigger.

  The rain intensified the feelings that had been boiling inside him, and now they had erupted when Malo realized that once again, that something he had valued, something he had ”loved”, was now taken away once more.

  “Malo, you’re lying.”

  Malo narrowed his eyes.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You do find enjoyment in fighting. I saw you earlier. I could tell that you were enjoying fighting me. I know that-”

  “So what?”

  I paused.

  “What other point is there in fighting than to win?” Malo pressed.

  What other point.

  That’s what I want to know as well.

  But, it’s just us two now, so someone’s got to answer it.

  In that case, what do I think?

  “Enjoyment, pride, happiness, it doesn’t matter. The point of a fight is to win.”He scoffed. “That’s why I don’t understand those who keep going when they know they can't win. I don’t see a reason in getting back up when the same result is awaiting them.”

  “But, I did.”

  “You’re different. You’re not like the rest.”

  “No, I am.”

  Malo paused. “What do you mean?”

  “I was scared just like them all. I envied and feared you just like them. I was on the brink of giving up."

  It was the fear of losing that made me this way. But losing isn't as bad as I initially thought. It doesn't erase anything.

  I didn’t waste any of it. I wholeheartedly believe it.

  I didn’t waste their time, my time, and your time.

  It was all worth it, to be here now, to challenge someone like Malo.

  “But, you see Malo, why does winning or losing decide whether my effort mattered?”

  It doesn't depend on the result.

  “Fighting with no chance of winning, you can’t see the meaning behind it, can you?” I said. “To imagine the will to keep going, even knowing you’ll lose. But isn’t that what we all do every day? We eat, even though one day we’ll have no need for it. We drink, even though we can never truly satisfy ourselves. The fact that you’re here, that I’m here, that all of us are here—living day after day—isn’t that proof that there’s more to life than just winning? That even knowing death awaits, we still choose to live?”

  I let the words hang.

  “The point of a fight isn’t to claim victory or avoid defeat. It’s what’s in it. It’s the struggle, the effort, the choice to rise even when the odds are against you.”

  “We fight every day,” I continued. “We fight to live in a cold, unfair world. We’ll never truly win, Malo, and you know it. But what is winning, really? And why should victory decide whether a fight matters?”

  Malo couldn’t answer. Confusion twisted his features, tangled with disbelief and frustration. How could people willingly engage in a battle they knew they’d lose? How could they find……..meaning in it?

  It reminded him of his past, of the boys playing in the rain, carefree and unafraid, while he watched from within his dark home.

  “Why else would one fight?” he finally whispered, almost to himself.

  “There are countless reasons to fight. One might fight to protect, another to destroy, and some because they have nothing else to do. A person could be driven by honor, or by fame and money."

  Just as every fighter is unique, so too are their reasons for stepping into the ring.

  Everyone has a reason to fight.

  “But is a fight really the place to dwell on that?” I asked.

  I don't have the strength to allow myself to focus on those negative thoughts.

  Isn’t it the same for you, Malo?

  “In a fight,” I continued, “do the opponents pause to worry about their dreams? Do they cower at the thought of losing fame or glory? Do they fear being forgotten while the winner basks in the spotlight?”

  Malo didn’t answer.

  “My thoughts about your talent, and your thoughts about the rain, none of that belongs in this fight. What matters now, what we should focus on, is enduring what brought us here, enduring what we must face in this moment, and continuing to fight despite it all.”

  As I spoke, the rain softened to a gentle drizzle.

  “The rain came, and it paused the match. There’s nothing we can do about it. Life throws events at us we cannot control. It forces us into battles we cannot win.”

  Those are the fights we’re destined to lose.

  “But even then, there is something we can do. Something we can reclaim from fate itself, something you and I both want.”

  Malo finally spoke. “And what is that?”

  I raised a guard, my eyes locking on his.

  “We can still fight.”

  Malo let out a small laugh, almost bitter. “Hah.”

  Malo couldn't believe it.

  Even now, I was willing to fight. But for him?

  “This life we’ve been thrust into,” I said once more, “is an impossible fight we cannot hope to win.”

  Malo looked at me.

  "No matter how hard we struggle, we will all eventually fall. From the moment we’re born, we’re forced into a painful life, waiting for an inevitable end. We’re thrown into suffering and expected to adapt, to accept our short lives and live as we’re told. But before that ending, you’re still fighting. In this life, we face countless battles. Some are hard, some are easy, shaped by who or what we face, and who stands beside us. Rivals, friends, family, enemies—we fight these small battles, winning some, losing others, until at last, we reach the final fight."

  “To most, it’s a grim fate, something unavoidable. But every fighter learns the truth the moment they first pick up a weapon: one day, they will retire. One day, they will fall. And yet, we still fight. We keep moving forward. Even when we know we can’t win, even when it seems pointless, we fight. And do you know why, Malo?”

  Malo shook his head.

  “It’s because until then, we still have battles to win.”

  I smiled.

  “And this is one of them.”

  Malo began to tremble.

  “........Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Malo choked back a sob.

  “Are you really fine with continuing to fight me?”

  I nodded.

  “I am.”

  “Truly?”

  “I am, Malo.”

  Malo rubbed at his nose and glanced up at the sky.

  The rain still fell just like that day. The same rain that had shattered his life.

  And yet, as he stared at it, he couldn’t help but remember the days when his family would stay together and wait for the storm to pass.

  He missed it terribly, and he wanted nothing more than to return to those times.

  But, he knew he couldn’t. That was something that he could never do.

  However, there was something else that he could do.

  Malo took a deep breath as he readied himself.

  He thought of the children who had once danced in the rain, carefree and laughing, treating the downpour as nothing more than water. He had never understood how anyone could see it that way, how they could feel joy under the same sky that had crushed him.

  And yet, here was someone. Someone who saw differently. Someone willing to face him, ready to fight, even in the rain that had ruined their match.

  His opponent.

  Beric.

  It was now that Malo had a thought. He felt that, somehow, he could somewhat understand those children.

  He could understand why they were willing to play in the rain.

  He could understand why he saw rain as nothing more than just rain with his family.

  He knew why.

  Because they all had someone else to endure the rain with.

  And now, on this day, on a day that he never had expected, he had finally come across someone who was willing to fight him, no matter what.

  Malo then exhaled and spoke, quietly, almost to himself.

  “Even the rainy days can be beautiful.”

  With that, the two fighters surged forward, charging into the final showdown.

  The rainy days will come. And they may last long, perhaps too long sometimes. During such trying times, one may find it hard to keep on holding and wait for the return of that bright sun.

  It's as if it's believed that all you can do is simply wait. You're too weak to change it. All you can do is endure.

  That's the belief.

  And it is true.

  But is it the only truth?

  The rainy days will always return, and they can stay for many days and nights.

  But rather than simply waiting, find it.

  Rather than wait and pitifully struggle as the unrelenting rain keeps on kicking you down, find it.

  Find what you still have.