Zeruel's POV
I couldn't quite put into words why I had signed up for this tournant. Was it out of desperation for money? Or so deep desire to show off my swordsmanship?
No.
The truth was, I didn't need the money at all. Sure, the prize money was tempting—it was more than enough to keep my family secure—but thanks to the Leonamon Corporation's support, we weren't struggling. If anything, I considered giving the prize to them as a token of gratitude, but let's face it: they didn't need it. Leonamon was swimming in wealth.
And as for my swordsmanship? It wasn't sothing I'd ever thought of showcasing. My technique was crude and self-taught—functional, not elegant. I wasn't here to impress anyone, let alone flaunt skills I didn't think were worth noticing.
So why? Why had I signed up for this tournant?
It was him.
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The man who'd turned my life upside down and saved it all at once. Leon—the owner of Leonamon, the man who reached out to save my mother when no one else could. She'd been condemned to a coma-like existence, a disease so rare and insidious that doctors could only offer sympathy. Leon stepped in and covered the costs of her treatnt without asking for a single thing in return.
I owed him everything.
And yet, our beginning was… rocky. The first ti we spoke, he didn't ease into conversation or exchange pleasantries. No, he dove straight in and confessed his love to .
It was the worst possible timing. That sa day, my mother collapsed, and the diagnosis had shattered . His confession, no matter how heartfelt, felt like a slap in the face amidst my chaos. I lashed out at him, rejected him with more venom than I'd intended. If the circumstances had been different, I might have been confused or uncertain. But at that mont, his words only stung.
I've apologized since then. Profusely. I've thanked him over and over for saving not just my mother but as well. Without him, I might've ended up prostituting myself just to make ends et, and my younger sister would have suffered for it. He saved us all.
But no matter how much I thanked him, it never felt enough.
I didn't have money—he didn't need it anyway. So, in desperation, I decided to offer him my body. Surely, a man like him, who'd gone so far for , would accept sothing as primal as sex. I was certain he'd take it. I was very confused... Wasn't that what n wanted? But to my surprise, he refused. He told he wasn't helping for compensation.
I was stunned. Confused.
I didn't understand him.
But I wanted to. I needed to. Not just as the man who saved my family but as a person. I wanted to see the real him, to understand what made him tick, what drove him.
And yet, every ti I thought I had him figured out, he shattered my assumptions. It was as if he thrived on remaining an enigma. He kept slipping through my grasp, a puzzle with pieces that never quite fit.
Leon confused . Completely and utterly. And yet, I couldn't stop wanting to know him.
Right now, he stood face to face with , his gaze steady and unyielding. He'd told to go all out, that there was no need to hold back. Fine. If that was what he wanted, then I'd do just that. With a deep breath, I activated my ability.
Flas erupted along my blade, licking hungrily at the air. The sword itself was nothing special, just an ordinary weapon. But with my ability, it beca sothing more. The fire wasn't just for show—it was a manifestation of my will, one of the unique skills I possessed. He'd said he'd go all out, so I'd return the favor.
If I wanted to understand him, I needed to see him at his peak. I wanted him to unleash everything he had.
"T-This fight is over!" The referee's panicked voice rang out, cutting through the tension. "There's already a winner since you're disqualified! Both of you, stop this fight imdiately!"
His words echoed, but neither of us moved. I knew I'd broken the rules—magic and abilities were explicitly forbidden—but I didn't care.
"Co on! Let them fight!" one of the spectators shouted, their voice loud and brash. "We've been bored out of our minds all day! Don't ruin the first decent match we've had!"
"That's right!" another chid in. "This is finally getting good! Stopping it now would be fucking stupid!"
"Let them fight! Don't stop it!"
The crowd roared in agreent, their chants growing louder with each passing second. Even as the referee waved his arms frantically, trying to restore order, it was clear there'd be no stopping us.
Locked in a silent agreent, Leon and I moved as if driven by so unseen force. In the blink of an eye, our blades collided with a deafening clang.
"Ngh!" I grunted, the impact rattling through my arms.
His strike was like slamming my sword against solid stone—unyielding, immovable. It was jarring, the sheer weight behind his swing sothing I hadn't anticipated. This wasn't him at his peak. No, it couldn't be. There had to be more to him than this.
Without hesitation, I pressed forward, our swords eting in a relentless barrage. The clash of steel echoed in a chaotic rhythm, a symphony of raw power and determination. Each swing, each parry sent shocks through my body, but I refused to falter.
And yet, his blows felt heavier with every exchange. His movents were fluid, effortless, as if he wasn't even trying. Compared to him, I felt clumsy, sluggish.
But despite the overwhelming difference, I couldn't suppress the grin tugging at my lips.
I was enjoying this.
His expression mirrored my own, the corners of his mouth curling upward. He was enjoying it too.
We didn't hold back. Our swords danced, slashing, blocking, and parrying with precision. Our movents were relentless, a blur of motion that neither of us had any intention of stopping.
Each clash of our blades sent sparks flying, the fiery edge of my sword painting streaks of light across the battlefield. My muscles burned, my breath ca in ragged gasps, but I didn't care. I could feel his strength, his resolve, and it pushed to dig deeper, to give everything I had.
I could finally see him. The real him.
And then, deep within my chest, I felt sothing stir—sothing unexpected, unanticipated. It wasn't anything I had prepared for, and yet, there it was, blooming inside like it had always been waiting. It was raw, unfiltered, and impossible to ignore. For the first ti, I felt like I was truly beginning to understand him, and in so strange way, I wanted him to understand , too.
If that even made sense.
"Raaaaaaaaahhhh!!!"
A guttural roar tore from my throat as I threw everything I had into my attacks. My sword swung with ferocity, the flas blazing brighter, but he t blow for blow. His sword moved like an unyielding wall, effortlessly blocking and parrying every strike I threw at him. It felt like trying to break through a mountain—immovable, unshakable. Defeating him was impossible.
And yet...
"Ha... ha ha..."
Laughter bubbled up inside , soft at first, then growing louder. I couldn't explain it, but I laughed, the sound rough and foreign to my ears. I couldn't rember the last ti I'd let out a laugh like this—or any laugh at all, really. Not since my mother's diagnosis had robbed of that part of myself.
This laugh, though, wasn't loud or wild. It was quiet but real, sothing that rose from deep within.
Then, without warning, his sword moved faster than I could follow. My grip faltered, and my blade flew from my hand, clattering onto the platform floor. My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto them, panting heavily. Sweat dripped down my face, rolling off my chin and pooling on the ground beneath .
I had lost.
But instead of frustration, instead of bitterness or regret, all I felt was a strange, pure happiness. It was clarity, a sudden understanding of why I had signed up for this tournant in the first place.
It was to face him, to fight him, to finally uncover the truth buried in my own heart.
The truth was so simple, yet so overwhelming.
I loved him.
I loved this man.
The realization hit like a wave, washing over everything else. It didn't matter that it was too late, that he already had not one but two won in his life. None of that mattered.
I didn't regret rejecting him back then, when I was too lost in my own pain to see him clearly. Now, I was just grateful. Grateful for this mont, for the chance to let my feelings grow, to nurture them into sothing more profound.
And that was enough.
I loved him.
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