Normally, I’d take my time with explaining the visuals. You know, slow down, really look around, break everything down like a puzzle and describe every crooked corner of Willowrest in agonizing detail. That’s kind of my thing. But right now, we don’t really have the time for that, so we’ll have to make do.

  The buildings in Willowrest looked like they’d been built by hand, argued over by different people with different visions, and then quietly left to settle into whatever shape they felt like. Most of them leaned slightly in one direction or another, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to make you wonder if the foundations had ever been fully committed to the concept of "level." Walls were patched with mismatched wood, stone, or whatever someone had lying around, and rooftops were a chaotic mix of faded tiles, thatch, and occasionally just sheet metal held down with bricks. A few had balconies that looked like they’d been nailed on as an afterthought, half-hanging over narrow alleys or wedged into corners where no one could possibly stand.

  As I sprinted down the main path, a voice called out behind me.

  “Hey! Watch the step, traveler!” Too late.

  I launched myself off a high stairway, legs coiled, arms tucked close. My boots slammed into the uneven path below with a jolt that ran straight up my spine. The cobblestones were old, centuries old maybe, and slick with moss in the cracks. Stumbling but managing to stay up, I continued on. Willow branches slapped across my shoulder as I tore past a courtyard, ducking under one that hung low like it wanted to trip me on purpose.

  “Excuse me—!” I twisted sideways to avoid a man carrying a full basket of firewood. I managed to avoid him, except for a little puff of ash that kicked up when I clipped the edge of his log pile. “Sorry!” I said while coughing from the ash.

  Keeping up my pace, I vaulted a bench, landed in someone’s garden, and sprang out again with no waste of movements. Someone behind me cursed.

  The streets in Willowrest weren’t really built for speed. They curved like drunken snakes and had this annoying habit of narrowing just when you thought you could open up your stride. I took a shortcut through a side alley I barely noticed, but I nearly ran headfirst into a row of drying shirts, which made me see a sleeping cat too late. With a forceful push from my right leg, I just managed to leap over the cat like an actual cat, rolling onto the ground and into a running position again in one swift motion.

  Thankfully, the cat was still asleep.

  Everything smelled like bread and damp grass. Birds fluttered up from the rooftops as I passed. Somewhere, a lute player strummed a lazy chord. A breeze carried the scent of stew, warm and meaty and absolutely not for me. My stomach growled.

  Focus on what’s ahead.

  Sys flew lazily beside me while sipping on a martini.

  “Are you old enough to be drinking that?”

  Are you fast enough to make that jump?

  “What jump-”

  I whipped my head around just in time to catch a glimpse of the alleyway opening back up into the main streets, meaning that there was finally a straight path.

  Unfortunately, that path was blocked by a tall iron fence. For some reason, someone felt that this alleyway should be cut off from the main path.

  What’s the plan? Just jump?

  “Of course.”

  I shifted all my weight into my left leg, coiling like a spring. With everything I had, I launched upward, using the momentum to drive my right foot hard against the nearby wall. The impact reverberated up my leg, but it gave me just enough of a second push, just enough height to reach the top. My fingers scraped metal as I caught the top of the fence, and for a split second, I dangled there, my boots kicking at air. Then I heaved myself up and over, body twisting awkwardly as I cleared the edge.

  But I didn’t exactly stick the landing.

  I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring my knees. But I tucked and rolled, letting the motion eat the fall. It wasn’t graceful, not by a long shot, but it was acceptable. Just a low grunt, the sound of stone scraping my coat, and a little gasp from someone nearby.

  As for the path that lay ahead of me, I noticed another route.

  This path did lead to the Arena, but to the left, over a wide canal, was a wooden bridge. Looking at my mini map, I realized that this would get me there quicker. The only issue was that the only way to get on that bridge would be to take a short detour………or if I made another jump.

  The canal itself wasn’t exactly scenic. It was one of those district-wide utility waterways where all the runoff, used water, and mysterious floating things drifted together like they were throwing a block party for biohazards. If I missed this jump and fell into it, being late would be the least of my worries.

  I took a couple of steps back.

  Sys threw away his martini.

  You got this?

  “I really, really hope so.”

  I kicked hard off the stone, driving all the power from my legs into the leap. My arms tucked, body arching mid-air. The wind tried to drag me away as I just barely cleared the canal.

  My boots slammed down onto the edge of the bridge. The landing was rough, too rough I realized. I had too much momentum. My feet skidded on the old stone, slick from mist and grime, and my body tilted fast.

  In just a matter of seconds, I was over the edge.

  The world felt like it had been forced upside down, with the blood rushing in my head rushing downstairs, and the canal’s grimy waters reaching upwards to me.

  My reflexes took over and I twisted mid-fall, slamming one hand against the underside lip of the bridge. My shoulder barked in protest, but I locked my grip and swung. My legs curled up instinctively, feet planting flat against the bridge’s lower arch. I pushed off with both feet and pulled hard with my arms, flipping backward with all the force I could gather. My body rotated clean over the ledge in a fast and sharp manner, barely clearing the edge.

  As a result, I landed flat on my back on the bridge’s surface with a loud thud, breath knocked from my lungs.

  Someone tried to ask me if I was okay, but I didn’t need to answer that.

  Without a word, I got up and began running.

  Honestly, that jump was a little too risky for my liking.

  Which reminds me, you’re probably wondering why I’m not just using Shade to get there. It’d be a lot faster, right?

  Well, Elder Walden made it very clear: no magic until I arrive. Apparently, he doesn’t want my competition getting a sneak peek at what I’m capable of. “Let them see nothing until it’s too late,” he told me.

  Whatever that means.

  Up ahead, the road began to widen, the cobblestones gently sloping upward. A good sign that meant I was getting close. I could make out the towering stone pillars that marked the entrance to the Arena, each one draped with long, fluttering banners bearing the sigil of the World Guild.

  I was almost there-

  I smell blood.

  I stopped and looked into a dark alleyway.

  Even though it was hard to see, I could faintly see three silhouettes, two of which were standing over the third one who seemed to be sleeping.

  Why’d you stop-Oh, never mind.

  I don’t need the light to see what’s going on in there.

  ……..So, you going to check it out?

  “Yeah, I probably-”

  Are you?

  Again?

  You’re going to be late. You’re going to get disqualified. Three years, all that time, all that effort, wasted. And for what? Because you can’t just mind your own business? Are you really okay with that?

  No, but I can’t just leave—

  Why? What is it that’s making you want to intervene?

  Nothing. I just—

  Oh, I see. So me leaving you alone for a while made you start believing you were getting better? Is that it?

  You do realize I only show up when you’re about to do something monumentally stupid, right?

  Something like trying to play the hero.

  I already know. All that hero bullshit, it’s not for me. I know it’s not meant for me—

  Then what? Why risk disqualification? Why throw it all away just to interfere in something that has nothing to do with you? Why can’t you just let someone else handle it, like you always do?

  …….Like I always do?

  You didn’t help that beggar boy back there. Don’t pretend you forgot. You knew you couldn’t. You knew it was pointless to even try. What good would it have done?

  He’d still be scrounging for scraps, still freezing in the alleys, still fighting off sickness and scorn, just for the crime of existing.

  Leave.

  You can’t actually do anything.

  “Hey! You there!”

  Uh?

  The two silhouettes seemed to be pointing right at me.

  I think they see you.

  “Huh, what makes you say that?”

  Sys pointed at their growing figures.

  Because they’re getting closer.

  As they exited the alleyway, and the sunlight began to shine on them, I felt a slight uncomfortable feeling when I saw what they looked like. Both were around Arthur’s age, maybe sixteen or seventeen, dressed in dark, high-collared coats trimmed with gold thread and ridiculous shoulder clasps that looked more decorative than useful. Their boots were polished, not a speck of dust on them despite standing in a filthy alley, and each wore rings, yeah, actual rings, on nearly every finger, like they were trying to prove their bloodlines were rolling in dough. One had slicked-back blond hair and a jaw so sharp it looked like he’d cut himself shaving. His red eyes seemed to glow when he sneered at me. The other had curling dark hair tied loosely at the nape and gray eyes that flicked toward me with the bored arrogance of someone who’d never been told “no” in his life.

  “What are you doing here?” The blonde one asked.

  His smile. That fake ass shit.

  This guy is definitely going to be an annoying one.

  “I was just passing by,” I answered.

  “Oh?” He stepped a little closer, eyes sharp. “Then what made you stop?” His hand landed on my shoulder. It was too casual.

  He reminded me of Rune in the past.

  I cleared my throat. “I thought I heard something from the alleyway, but it was too dark to see clearly. I couldn’t tell what was happening.”

  His smile faltered for a moment. “You didn’t see anything?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, unless you’re saying I should’ve seen something?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  I took a step back, but he kept his grip on my shoulder. “What were you doing in there?”

  It was dark within the alleyway, and even though my vision was limited, it was painfully obvious what had happened.

  Two noble kids had been beating someone up, using the shadowy alley to hide their cruelty. Even a kid like me could piece that together, or at least, that’s what they believed.

  From their perspective, I hadn’t denied lingering, trying to see what was going on. If I lied and said I hadn’t, they’d suspect I was hiding something, like the notion that I actually saw them in the act. But since I admitted trying and claimed I saw nothing, he was left with two options: gamble and cause a scene, convinced I was bluffing and covering up what I’d witnessed; or back off, avoiding the risk of telling me outright what I expected me to have seen.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Either way, pressing me any further was dangerous, for both of us.

  “Zin, perhaps we should leave,” the dark-haired one spoke up.

  Oh. So this is Zin. Those kids were talking about him earlier. It looks like they weren’t wrong about him.

  Zin glanced at his companion. “You think so?” Then his eyes shifted back to me. “You truly saw nothing?”

  “Yes, sir.” I answered.

  “Huh.” He looked down, his hand still resting on my shoulder. Then, without warning, his fingers dug in tight. It hurt a lot.

  He looked up again, and this time, his expression had changed. The smile was gone. It was replaced by a ghastly look, as if he had seen something horrifying.

  “You’re lying.”

  A chill crept down my spine. “What do—” I started, trying to pull back, but his grip only tightened.

  He’s strong.

  Name: Zin Caedan

  Age: 17

  Class: Paladin

  Strength: 1,392

  Speed: 1,241

  Stamina: 1,375

  Endurance: 1,289

  Durability: 1,401

  Mana: 1,322

  Soul Rank: Ethereal

  Soul Color: Blue

  “You saw it.” He whispered. “You saw what we did.”

  He raised another hand.

  Beric.

  Sys was ready by my side.

  I know Walden said to not use magic, but if he-

  “Zin.”

  That voice.

  We all turned our heads to Rune and Orion.

  Rune stood with a casual, slouched posture, but there was a sharpness in his presence that didn’t go unnoticed. His long black hair hung loose past his shoulders, freshly combed for the occasion, with a thin silver clasp keeping part of it tied back. He wore a high-collared, sleeveless dark vest coat over a fitted ash-gray tunic that hugged his lean frame. A set of black wrap-pants were bound neatly at the calves with leather cord. Though his outfit was tailored for the festival, if you looked closely, you could see light armor padding hidden beneath the vest, and reinforced stitching along the seams. His polished shoes were soft-soled and silent, and a pair of fingerless gloves peeked from his belt.

  Orion kept it simple but solid. His short brown hair was a bit tousled, and his sharp yellow eyes locked onto mine. He wore a sleeveless dark green tunic made from thick linen, loose around the chest but belted tightly at the waist with a heavy brown strap. His sturdy frame filled it out without looking flashy. His trousers were dark gray and snug at the thighs but loosened below the knee, tied off at the calves with twine for a better fit. On his feet, thick-soled leather boots were strapped tight.

  “If it isn’t Rune the Rat,” Zin said, his voice sickeningly sweet, fake warmth dripping from every word.

  “Tristan,” Rune replied, eyes shifting to the dark-haired one.

  Tristan didn’t even bother to respond.

  “What were you doing with Beric?”

  “Beric?” Zin echoed, before suddenly grabbing my face, fingers digging into my cheeks. “You know this little kid?”

  Rune looked at me.

  I looked back at him.

  “He’s an acquaintance.”

  “Oh, an acquaintance.” Zin nodded slowly, as if pretending to understand. “Hmm. I see.” Then he sneered. “Well, sorry, but I’ve got some business to finish with your acquaintance.”

  “Let him go.”

  Huh? Rune’s trying to help me?

  I wasn’t the only one surprised.

  “What?” Zin blinked, clearly stunned. “Did I hear him right, Tristan?”

  Tristan gave Rune a quick glance. “You did.”

  Zin scratched the back of his head, letting out a low chuckle. “Well then, that must mean our little rat here has finally lost his mind.” He smiled at Rune, but somehow, it felt more like a taunting glare. “I wonder what made you think you could speak to me like that.”

  His eyes flicked between Rune and Orion.

  “Huh……That’s also peculiar. Weren’t there three of you before?”

  Rune’s expression tightened, the barest grimace slipping through.

  “Oh, that’s right. What was his name? Arthur?”

  Arthur?

  “Why isn’t that commoner with you?” Zin tilted his head mockingly. “Ah, of course. After everything that happened, I suppose you’d want to cut ties. Makes sense, really.”

  He gave a drawn-out sigh, tone dripping with false sympathy. “Though maybe you’ve finally figured it out, that people like us need to choose our friends very carefully.”

  He shot a sideways glance at Orion. “Or, perhaps not.”

  I noticed Orion’s fist swelling, but I was confused about something.

  Were Arthur and Rune friends in the past?

  But, no way. I mean, they literally hate each other. They fought practically every day, and then there was that incident with the table………..though, I guess they have stopped fighting, but that’s because Rune just stopped in general.

  Did that have something to do with Arthur?

  “.......Let him go.”

  “Hm? And why should I?”

  “There’s no point in talking, is there?”

  Rune stepped forward, Orion close behind.

  Zin let out a laugh. “Oh? Do you really think you can take us on now?” He paused, then smiled. “Don’t forget that the only reason you ever got close to us before was because there were three of you.” He glanced around, then locked eyes with Rune, grin widening. “And it looks like that commoner’s not here.”

  “He isn’t,” Rune said calmly, “but Beric is.”

  “Beric?” Zin turned to me, raising a brow. “What about him?”

  “He’s entering the tournament.”

  Tristan’s eyes finally showed an emotion, it being a flicker of surprise as his eyes slightly widened.

  Zin burst out laughing. “Beric’s entered the tournament?” He reached out and poked my cheek. “What are you, eight?”

  “Ten,” I answered flatly.

  That only made him laugh harder. “What the hell is everyone thinking, letting some brat like you enter?”

  “I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Rune said.

  “Oh?” Zin turned back toward him.

  “He’d beat you in a fight-easily. He’s the most talented fighter our village has seen in generations, and honestly, he’s even more talented than the likes of you.”

  For some reason, that managed to hit a nerve. Zin’s expression twisted, and he shot me a glare. “Really?” he hissed. “Then let’s see it.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Rune replied smoothly. “Wouldn’t you rather wait?”

  “Wait?”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to face him in the arena? In front of the crowd? Wouldn’t you love the chance to shut me up and humiliate Beric? To crush a so-called ‘genius’ for everyone to see?”

  Oh, that’s a smart move, Rune.

  Zin seemed to consider it. “Hmm….…” He glanced over at Tristan. “What do you think?”

  “It would be wise to avoid drawing attention here,” Tristan said coolly. “And it would be satisfying to destroy these plebeians in front of an audience.”

  “I see.” Zin let go of me, shoving me back.

  Thankfully, Orion caught me before I hit the ground.

  “We’ll settle this in the arena,” Zin said, turning away with Tristan close behind. “Rune. Orion. The same thing will happen again.”

  Rune clicked his tongue at that.

  “And as for you, Beric—” He turned to me one last time, wearing that same terrifying expression he showed earlier.

  “You won’t be so lucky next time.”

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “So, who were they?”

  Rune made a face at my question while Orion hefted the unconscious man onto his back.

  The man had been badly beaten. He was barely breathing, with blood dripping from multiple wounds across his head and body. Judging by his clothes and condition, he was clearly homeless. A beggar, basically.

  “They’re nobles,” Rune said. “Sons of Baron Caedan and Baron Han.”

  Orion grunted as the man nearly slipped off his back. I moved to help, but Rune stepped in first, adjusting the man’s position and settling him properly.

  “You should get going.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll handle this. You need to get to the Arena.”

  “Still, I—”

  “Don’t you know that you’re up first?”

  What?

  “First?”

  Rune narrowed his eyes at me. “The Elders didn’t tell you that?”

  I quickly shook my head.

  That must be why Walden rushed me to get here on time. But still, couldn’t he have just told me?

  He let out a sigh. “Is this some kind of test or something?” He waved me off. “Anyway, go. Don’t get yourself disqualified now.”

  …………Huh, he’s actually kind of chill now. I wonder if he’s actually-

  He hasn’t.

  Just because he can act better doesn’t mean he’s changed.

  Don’t forget what he did to you.

  What he did to people like you.

  Don’t forget that you hate him.

  Don’t let a fake act of kindness change your beliefs.

  Don’t let it happen again.

  ……….It would be nice to believe that Rune changed. If he did, then, that meant………I-

  Just then, the loud noise of a bell rang across the town.

  “Shit, already?” Rune muttered under his breath. Then he gave me a shove toward the Arena. “What are you doing? Get going already.”

  Oh, right.

  I turned and started making my way to the Arena….....

  You’re right.

  It’s not that simple. Rune can’t just change overnight. Helping me out here doesn’t magically erase everything he’s done in the past, if he even meant to help at all.

  It’d be foolish to give Rune the light of day, to offer him a second chance, but then I remembered Arthur. I remembered how it felt for him to be ignored, dismissed, never taken seriously, due to his clown-like reputation. I thought about The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

  I can’t give Rune a second chance. I can’t pretend it’s possible he’s changed. I can’t forget what he did to me.

  But,

  I can at least acknowledge the effort even if it’s fake. Even if it’s fleeting.

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t see Rune’s face, but I had a feeling that he was surprised.

  “..........Good luck, Beric.”

  With that, I took off again.

  This time, no more detours and no more distractions.

  If I didn’t hurry now, I really was going to be late.

  I ran toward the Arena.

  “He’s just like him, huh?” Rune said to Orion.

  “He is.” Orion simply said back.

  Rune took a deep sigh. “Well, let’s get going. We have matches today as well.”

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The path to the Arena had a noticeable slope to it, which is because the Arena was on top of a hill.

  From the outside, it was a massive ring of stone that sat at the highest point of the district, rising like a crown from the hillside, its walls curving in a smooth, continuous circle. There weren’t sharp spires or impossible angles like you’d find in noble castles. Just clean lines, powerful arches, with the inside opening up like a pit, or maybe a bowl, with tiered seating carved directly into the structure itself. No chairs. No benches. Just wide ridges of stone, smoothed over from generations of spectators sitting, shifting, leaning forward in excitement or gripping the edges in suspense. The floor of the arena, circular and clean, was a flat stretch of dull, gray stone, slightly darker than the rest of the structure. Maybe not actual concrete, but something close. It looked like it could take a beating, and based on the shallow cracks and worn scuff marks, it already had.

  There were entry tunnels built into the sides of the arena walls, four of them, evenly spaced like the cardinal points on a compass. They weren’t grand arches, just clean hallways that cut through the stone like veins. I heard that these led to break rooms, others to preparation rooms or equipment halls, and even cells. Above each tunnel was a blank stone panel, maybe for banners, or the names of participants. Right now, they just stood empty, waiting for the grand battle.

  It wasn’t silent either. With the matches finally starting soon, the people could barely contain their excitement. Voices overlapping in the way crowds always did. There were vendors hawking pastries and lemon drinks, children yelling as they raced to find better seats, and groups of adults debating over who had the best odds to win. Every now and then, a distant clang echoed from somewhere beneath the arena, perhaps from the practicing that the contestants were warming up with.

  Anyway, I guess it’s time to go ahead and enter the arena.

  And where exactly do you go to do that?

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  While the Arena’s seating was open to everyone, the actual entrance within was blocked by a man who sat at a desk. The entrance was locked behind a type of fence.

  “Should I go up to him?”

  You kind of have to. You might get disqualified any moment now.

  I walked up to the man. “Hello, sir.”

  He looked up at me. “Seatings are to your right and left. Choose wherever.”

  “No uh, actually, I’m supposed to be entering the Arena.”

  He sighed as he grabbed a pencil. “Cutting it close, huh?”

  “Sorry.”

  He took out a specific paper. “Name?”

  “Beric Bome.”

  “Oh, Beric.” He checked my name off. “The ten-year-old from Lurindell, under the tutelage of Walden, Alric, and Liora.” He pulled a lever, which made the fence swing open.

  “You can warm up if you wish, but your match is about to start in a few minutes.”

  Only a few minutes? Dang, maybe I should have warmed up earlier-

  “Is this him?” A gruff but confident voice said from behind me.

  I turned to the voice.

  What first startled me was his height. He had to have at least been 190 centimeters, with long, copper hair that almost extended to his waist. His hair wasn’t just long, but also windswept and messy, as if he had just returned from a long fight. His eyes were a sharp, earthy green, which were looking at me with an inquisitive shine. Dirt smudged his tan skin in patches, and a faint scar ran across the bridge of his nose. He wore a sleeveless bark-brown tunic made of roughly spun fabric, the shoulders torn and frayed as if he’d ripped them off himself. Across his chest was a thick strap holding the heavy axe slung against his back. Loose, knee-length pants were cinched just below with strips of rope, and he wore old, leather boots.

  “Yes, this is Beric.” The guard confirmed.

  “Huh, so you really are just a kid.” He tilted his head to the side while examining me.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Oh, sorry. I’m Malo, your opponent.”

  ………?

  This guy’s my opponent? An axe-wielding giant who looks like he’s been in fights for his entire life?

  Name: Malo Dione

  Age: 16

  Class: Berserker

  Strength: 1,673

  Speed: 1,381

  Stamina: 1,544

  Endurance: 1,413

  Durability: 1,632

  Mana: 1,014

  Soul Rank: Tarnished

  Soul Color: Blue

  16 MY ASS-

  Okay.

  Maybe I should’ve just not come here.