The aftermath of the battle felt strangely quiet. Not because the arena was silent, it was far from it.
Thousands of spectators still filled the stands. Candidates still fought. Referees still shouted instructions. The tournant continued moving forward.
Yet for Thane, everything felt distant.
The giant stood beside Sky and Rimon as healers carried them away.
His body ached, his face was swollen.
Blood had dried across his nose and chin. The loss sat heavily in his chest.
Not because he had been defeated, but because he had failed.
The rules had been clear: protect your teammates.
Win as a team, and despite throwing Donovan out of the arena with his own hands, he had still lost.
The realization irritated him a lot. Still, when he heard the next announcent, his eyes brightened.
"Good." Thane cracked his knuckles. "Now I can fight the sword guy. I’ll win this at any cost."
Unfortunately, reality disagreed. The referee imdiately pointed at him. "Stand down."
Thane blinked in disbelief. "What?"
The referee added, "The remaining matches will conclude first."
The giant looked offended. "But I’m ready."
The referee was not interested. "Stand down."
Thane looked ready to argue, then he noticed the referee’s expression.
He wisely decided not to. "...Fine."
It was rare for Thane to think wisely, but he did. And so he waited.
Though it felt like long hours had passed, it was just enough for the golden light of sunset to slowly fade, retreating into the horizon.
Candidates were gradually eliminated. Victories accumulated. Dreams shattered. New hopes erged.
By the ti the final match approached, the sun had nearly disappeared beyond the horizon.
Blessed torches inside giant glasses were lit around the stadium.
Bright flas danced against the growing darkness.
The atmosphere felt different now, heavier and more focused.
This was not rely another battle. Everyone knew it.
The giant of Bentram against the swordsman of Krynova.
Two nas that had dominated the examinations.
Finally, the referee stepped forward.
His voice echoed through the arena.
"Thane." And after a pause, "Etno Kamsi."
The crowd erupted, not as loudly as before, not wildly.
This was not the excitent surrounding Donovan.
This was anticipation, curiosity, and tons of respect for both aspirants. But everyone also realized how fatal Thane’s situation was.
Unlike his opponents, who had received special privileges, he had gotten two random teammates who could not keep up.
His strength was awe-inspiring...
People wanted to see it again, wanted to see what would happen this ti.
Thus, Thane imdiately walked forward.
His body hurt. His muscles scread. His bruises had not faded, but he did not care.
Across the battlefield, Etno stepped into the arena.
Calm, collected, and seemingly unbothered.
As if he had not spent the entire day fighting, his sword remained at his waist. He collected his sword after every fight as if his life were trapped inside it.
His expression remained unreadable.
The two young n stopped several paces apart.
For a mont, neither spoke. Then Etno broke the silence. "Are you certain you want to continue?"
Thane frowned. "What kind of question is that?"
Etno glanced at the bruises covering the giant’s body.
"You fought Donovan," his voice remained calm. "You are exhausted."
The swordsman paused. "If necessary, I can surrender this match."
The arena murmured.
Thane stared as his face reddened. "Are you mocking ?" he spoke through gritted teeth.
Etno blinked, the reaction confusing him. "I said—"
"I heard you!" Thane pointed accusingly. "You think I can’t fight?"
"No."
"You think I’m weak?"
"I never said that."
"You think I’ll lose to you?" Thane’s tone was overwhelming. He was emotional. His pride was hurt.
Etno sighed. This was already going badly.
"I’m concerned about your condition," he said.
The giant’s expression darkened. "Don’t underestimate ."
Etno rubbed his forehead. He had not intended to insult him.
In truth, he respected Thane. The giant’s strength was obvious, as was his upright attitude. His determination was even more admirable.
But Thane had just endured a brutal battle against Donovan. Anyone with eyes could see it.
Unfortunately, explaining that to Thane appeared impossible.
The referee raised his hand. "Begin."
The match started.
Etno moved first. One simple step. The swordsman drew his wooden blade.
The arena quieted. The atmosphere felt sharper and more dangerous.
Thane charged, like he always did, direct and simple.
The giant closed the distance rapidly, then Etno’s sword moved.
A single swing, nothing more. And in the next mont, Thane’s arm fell from his body.
He stopped and scread. "Aaaagh!"
The crowd jumped. Thane stumbled backward, clutching his arm.
His eyes widened. He stared at his limb, certain it had been severed.
Certain he had just watched it happen, yet his arm remained attached.
Whole and uninjured. Not a single scratch existed.
Thane looked in bewildernt. The spectators were even more bewildered at what happened, wondering why the giant was screaming.
"What?" Sweat ford on Thane’s forehead.
Across from him, Etno simply stood there, sword lowered, calmly waiting.
The giant swallowed. He did not understand anything, so he attacked again.
This ti more cautiously, more carefully. He reached striking distance.
Etno moved. Another swing.
Another impossible sensation.
Thane gasped. Pain exploded across his chest.
He staggered backward, his hands flew toward the wound, expecting blood, but there was nothing.
His chest remained untouched.
The crowd murmured again as whispers echoed.
Even several judges leaned forward. Thane stared.
Then he looked at Etno and looked at his chest again.
"How are you doing it?" The question sounded almost desperate.
For the first ti that day, genuine uncertainty entered the giant’s voice.
Etno slowly lowered his blade. "A technique."
"What technique?"
The swordsman shook his head. "I cannot explain."
"Why?"
"It belongs to my family."
The answer only frustrated Thane further.
The giant scratched his head aggressively. "That doesn’t explain anything!"
Etno nearly smiled, and Thane attacked again and again.
Each ti, the result remained the sa. A sword moved, terrible pain appeared.
The giant reacted accordingly, yet no wound existed.
No blood or any injury, only absolute certainty.
For a brief instant, Thane truly believed he had been cut.
The sensation felt real, too real. His confidence gradually faded, not because he was injured.
Because he no longer understood the battle.
Against Donovan, everything had been simple.
Punches, kicks, strength, and power.
But this? This was different.
Etno was not rely fighting his body, he was fighting his mind.
The realization unsettled him more than any wound could have.
Eventually, Thane stopped moving, breathing heavily as sweat rolled down his face.
His body remained ready, his spirit remained ablaze.
Yet confusion clouded his thoughts. Then he noticed sothing strange.
Etno was sheathing his sword. The wooden blade disappeared back into its scabbard.
The crowd murmured.
Thane asked in puzzlent. "Why are you putting it away?"
The swordsman looked at him, calm as ever. "Because this match is over."
Thane’s eyes widened.
Etno nodded toward sothing behind him. "You should prepare for tomorrow. The one-versus-one tournant begins then."
Thane slowly turned around.
His heart sank as he found Rimon and Sky lying unconscious.
The realization struck imdiately, once again.
While he had focused entirely upon Etno, his teammates had been defeated.
The match had already ended, just like before.
Silence filled the arena. No cheers followed. No celebration erupted.
No roaring crowd, only quiet understanding.
Because unlike Donovan, this was not a match where Thane had nearly won.
This was not a match where victory slipped away.
No, this was different. The giant looked back toward Etno.
And for the first ti during the examinations, he understood.
The swordsman had never been struggling, never been pressured or threatened.
The realization settled heavily upon Thane’s shoulders. He had thought Donovan was the strongest opponent, but he was wrong.
For once, he did not complain. He did not smile.
He rely scratched the back of his head and sighed.
Then he looked at Etno. "You really are strong."
Etno inclined his head respectfully. "And so are you."
The swordsman turned and walked away, leaving the arena and crowd behind.
Leaving Thane standing beneath the light.
Thinking, perhaps for the first ti all day.
And sowhere deep inside, beneath the frustration and disappointnt, a new feeling began to grow.
Not anger or embarrassnt, but motivation. For the first ti he t soone as admirable as Edniot Quintess.
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