After Thirteen bid everyone goodbye, he waved at the crowd and walked away.
The mont when no one could no longer see his face, the faint smile on his face disappeared, and was replaced by a brooding look, which made the two Pocopocos, who were perched on his shoulders, quiet down.
They could tell that Zion was in a bad mood, so they didn't want to make any noise because he might get angry at them for being rowdy.
Only the teenage boy's footsteps echoed within the hallway that was bereft of people. He was thinking about sothing, and the more he thought, the more determined he beca. Whatever was going inside his mind, no one could really tell aside from himself.
Pica and Pico gave the teenage boy side-long glances, but kept their beaks firmly shut, for they believe that Zion was up to no good!
***
Ashford Clan's Healing Ward…
Clark abruptly opened his eyes, and imdiately propped himself up in a sitting position.
He gazed around him, trying to discern where he was. His heart sank when he realized that he was inside their Clan's infirmary.
A mont later, he recalled the events that happened during the match, making him clench his fists in frustration.
"I lost," Clark muttered after a few minutes of silence before he sighed deeply.
"No," soone spoke from the side of his bed. "You didn't lose. At least, you didn't lose to Roland."
Clark hastily looked at the corner of the room, where a teenage boy with black hair, and green eyes, was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Zion Leventis…," Clark said with a conflicted look on his face. "Have you co to humiliate more? Did you co here to mock ?"
"I don't have that much free ti," Thirteen replied before walking towards the bed.
Once he was near, he reached out in the space beside him and took out a chair from his Dinsional Storage before planting it next to the bed, so he could sit down on it.
He then looked at the Prodigy of the Ashford Clan, who looked like soone that had just fallen from grace, feeling depressed on the outco of his match. "What do you want?" Clark, who was not in the mood to talk to anyone, asked in an irritated tone.
"You," Thirteen replied.
"What?" Clark arched an eyebrow.
"I want you," Thirteen stated.
The young man looked at the teenage boy before a bitter chuckle escaped his lips.
"I'm in no mood for jokes," Clark said, barely restraining the anger in his voice. "If you have nothing else to say, get the hell out of here!"
Thirteen gave the young man a solemn gaze before nodding his head in understanding.
He knew that no matter what he said, he wouldn't be able to reach out to Clark because of his current state.
Staying, and trying to give him words of encouragent would actually backfire, so Thirteen decided to not use that thod.
Instead, he placed a black card on the side of the bed.
"When you have cald down, call on that number," Thirteen said. "I said it once, and I will say it again. You didn't lose to Roland."
Thirteen walked away, but just before he left the room, Clark heard the remainder of what the teenage boy was trying to tell him.
"You lost against Fate."
After hearing those words, Clark looked at the exit of the infirmary, but Zion was no longer there.
For so reason, when he heard the phrase "you lost against Fate", he flet his chest tighten as if his body was reacting to the teenage boy's words.
It was as if his entire being was agreeing with Zion's words, making Clark feel confused.
During the last few minutes of his fight with Roland, he noticed that sothing weird had happened to his opponent.
With the poison that coated his blade, and the powder that had managed to land on the young man's body, Roland was unable to offer any kind of resistance.
That would allow Clark to easily finish him off, and win the match. Although he could no longer call it an easy victory, it was still victory, regardless of what anyone would say.
Even if they said that he used dirty tricks to win.
For him, the end result was what truly mattered, and not the process on how that result ca to be.
While Clark was deep in his thoughts, the door opened once again.
Thinking that Zion had returned, the young man looked at the door. However, the person that ca in wasn't the teenage boy, but his own father, Claude.
"Father…," Clark said, half apologetic, and half fearful because he could see the disappointnt in Claude's eyes.
The Patriarch of the Ashford Clan stood beside his son's bed, and lightly patted his shoulder.
"That brat, Zion, proposed an interesting idea to earlier," Claude said. "I don't know what he has in mind, but you still have a second chance."
"A second chance?" Claude asked in confusion.
Claude nodded. "That's right. So, rest for now and recover. You will hear an announcent from him after three days."
He gave his son an encouraging look before walking out of the infirmary.
Zion had sought him out earlier, and offered a proposal, which Claude found very hard to refuse.
Earlier, he thought that all hope was lost, and their Clan would no longer be able to make waves in the tournant.
So, when Zion approached him, he thought that the no-good-brat was planning to extort him, so that Clark would be given a second chance in the tournant.
Truth be told, as long as it didn't go past his bottom line, Claude was willing to negotiate.
But, Zion didn't make things hard for him.
He even threw Claude an olive branch that was impossible for him to turn down.
"What do you want?" Claude had asked back then. "What are you scheming?!"
To his surprise, the teenage boy gave him an answer that left him in shock, and disbelief.
"I don't hate cheaters, and people who use dirty tricks," Thirteen replied. "What I hate is Fate. I'll give your son a second chance in this tournant."
Upon hearing this word, Claude imdiately thought that Zion would extort him. But, the boy didn't do that.
"Three days from now, wait for my announcent. I'll go and convince The Grand Marshal, and the Field Marshal first."
He then left without saying anything else.
He gave no demands.
And didn't ask for compensation.
Even now, Claude believed that the teenage boy had a hidden agenda.
But, whatever his agenda was. The current Patriarch of the Ashford Clan was willing to take a gamble, and see just what the teenage boy was planning to do to make his son make a coback in the competition.
—------
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