The courtyard of the Diamond ward echoed with silence, the kind that tightened the air before steel clashed. Rodey's scalpel gleamed under the sun, his grip tight, his stance sharpened by anger.
Deniz stood opposite him—hands loose, posture relaxed, a crooked grin painted across his lips as if none of this mattered. His silver-white hair shimmered, the only thing betraying motion in his still body.
"Tick, tock," Deniz murmured, rolling his shoulders. "Fifteen minutes. That's all you've got, buddy."
Rodey lunged, his blade slicing through the air with precision. But Deniz tilted his head by a hair's breadth, Rodey's scalpel cutting nothing but wind. He didn't counter. He didn't even raise a hand. Instead, Deniz smirked and whispered, "Close."
Another slash. This time Rodey aimed low. Deniz simply stepped aside, brushing Rodey's shoulder as he passed. "Too slow."
Rodey gritted his teeth. The scalpel flashed again, a blur of silver. Deniz bent his back lazily, letting the blade miss him by inches, then straightened with a mocking bow.
"Five minutes isn't long," Deniz said, circling. "But for you? It'll feel like eternity."
Rodey attacked in furious rhythm, but every strike found only air. Deniz dodged with the elegance of a predator playing with prey—head tilts, sidesteps, casual twists of his torso. Each motion was effortless, almost bored, yet perfectly calculated.
At one point, Rodey's blade whistled just past his throat. Deniz leaned in so close Rodey could feel his breath and whispered, "If you can't touch me now, imagine me serious."
The crowd watching from the ward's balcony gasped as Rodey stumbled back, frustrated. Deniz only chuckled. "Lesson one," he said, raising a single finger. "Patience. Don't chase the fight… let the fight chase you."
The first five minutes ended with Rodey panting, sweat dotting his brow—while Deniz stood untouched, his smirk sharper than ever.
The clash of scalpel and air continued. Rodey's breath grew heavier, each strike sharper than the last, his frustration bubbling close to rage.
Deniz, however, was only getting more relaxed. He swayed back with Rodey's attacks, hands tucked behind his back, as if enjoying a dance rather than a duel.
At one near miss, Deniz chuckled low and taunted:
"Maybe the writer likes me more than you, Rodey. You ever think of that?"
Rodey froze for half a second at the absurdity of the comment. Deniz winked, ducking under the scalpel's arc.
"Powerful side characters always steal the spotlight, don't they? And you—" he tapped Rodey's wrist mid-swing, redirecting the blade harmlessly into the ground—
"—you're starting to look like the main character who gets humbled."
The spectators on the balcony laughed nervously, unsure if Deniz was serious or just cruelly playful.
Rodey gritted his teeth. "Shut up!" His scalpel sliced dangerously close to Deniz's cheek.
But Deniz leaned back with a grin so wide it was infuriating. "Ooooh, temper, temper! Careful—you're going to make the author regret giving you screen time."
With a lazy sweep of his hand, Deniz redirected Rodey's next thrust, the scalpel barely nicking his coat instead of flesh. He didn't flinch—he wanted Rodey to see how close he was, only to be denied again.
"You're trying too hard," Deniz said, circling him like a vulture. "Lesson two—power without style is just noise. And right now, Rodey…" he smirked, leaning in so his words cut deeper than any blade,
"…you're just background noise in my story."
The second set of five minutes ended, Rodey's chest heaving with fury. Meanwhile, Deniz stood smirking, not even winded, his taunts sharper than Rodey's scalpel.
The scalpel gleamed in Rodey's hand, his arm trembling from both exhaustion and fury. Sweat dripped down his temple, his chest heaving with each breath. He lunged again, desperate to land even a single clean strike.
Clink! Deniz swatted the blade aside with two fingers, the motion so casual it was insulting. He sighed, rolling his shoulders.
"Alright…" Deniz's smirk curved into something colder. "I'm getting bored."
Rodey's eyes widened. "Bored—?"
Deniz leaned forward, his white hair slipping across his face, eyes flashing with that dangerous brilliance. "For fifteen minutes I've let you swing at me. I let you scream, sweat, struggle… and still, you couldn't scratch me properly."
He snapped his fingers. "Lesson three—Deniz Loadargo doesn't play fair when he's bored."
Before Rodey could react, Deniz blurred forward. His hand struck Rodey's wrist, sending the scalpel clattering to the floor. Rodey staggered back, stunned at the sheer speed.
Deniz pressed close, whispering near his ear so only he could hear:
"If you were king tomorrow, you'd be dead by breakfast."
He shoved Rodey backwards with enough force to make him stumble to his knees. The spectators gasped—the first time Rodey had been visibly broken in front of them.
Deniz didn't follow up. Instead, he dusted his coat and turned his back, speaking loud enough for all to hear:
"Lesson three, Rodey—never bore me. If you do, I'll end the game."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Rodey humiliated, his pride cut deeper than any wound the scalpel could've inflicted.
Rodey's chest heaved as he pushed himself off the ground, fury burning hotter than humiliation. The scalpel clinked as he picked it up again, his knuckles whitening.
Deniz tilted his head back, sighing, already walking away.
"Lesson's over, rookie. Don't embarrass yourself—"
"NO!" Rodey's roar cracked through the Diamond Ward like thunder.
He stood tall, shoulders shaking, eyes wild. "You said I'd be dead by breakfast? Then watch closely… because I'll show you why I'm still alive!"
He inhaled deeply, sucking air into his lungs as if he were pulling the entire room inside him. His body trembled—not with fear, but with a strange rhythm.
Hussain's words echoed in his head.
"Train speed is not about your legs… it's about your mind. Imagine the rails in front of you, and there are no brakes, no walls. Only forward. Only faster."
Rodey clenched his jaw. No limits. No walls. Only forward.
His muscles ignited, veins tightening as adrenaline surged. The air around him quivered—his stance sharper, his eyes locked with a predator's intensity.
Then—FWOOOSH!
Rodey vanished. The wind howled as he reappeared in front of Deniz, scalpel grazing past his cheek before Deniz even realized he'd moved.
The thin silver line across Deniz's skin trickled a bead of blood.
For the first time, Deniz's grin faltered. His eyes widened, reflecting something he hadn't shown in years—surprise.
Rodey smirked, voice low but steady.
"Lesson's not over yet, Deniz. Let's fight for real."
Deniz lifted his hand and touched the thin red line on his cheek. His fingers came back slick with blood. For a moment, silence drowned the Diamond Ward. The girls watching from a distance froze, their jaws dropping. No one had ever marked Deniz like that.
Then—Deniz chuckled.
"...Heh. That's the spirit, Rodey."
He cracked his neck, his carefree posture melting away like smoke. His grin lingered, but it wasn't the same mocking smirk—it was sharper, hungrier. His eyes glowed with a fire that made even the walls feel smaller.
"I've been waiting for this," he admitted, voice lower, dangerous now. "Finally… a reason to get serious."
He took one slow step forward. The ground beneath his foot cracked. Another step, and the tension in the air thickened until Rodey could barely breathe.
Deniz raised his fists, but there was no laziness in the way he held them now—no wasted motion, no casual arrogance. His stance was clean, precise. Deadly.
"Lesson 3 begins now," Deniz said, eyes locked on Rodey like a hawk eyeing prey.
"You've got speed, but let's see if you can handle someone who's always been faster."
The room trembled as both men braced. Rodey's breath quickened, his body still vibrating with Train Speed's rush.
For the first time, it wasn't just Rodey being tested.
It was Rodey vs. Deniz Loadargo at full strength.
The clash of feet and fists echoed through the Diamond Ward like thunder. Rodey's chest burned, lungs screaming, but he refused to stop. Deniz's movements were relentless—sharp, elegant, too fast for most eyes to follow. Every strike Rodey blocked rattled his bones; every dodge pushed him to the brink.
But then—Rodey remembered.
Hussain's voice, rough and mocking, from years of training:
"Speed without balance is a crashing train, idiot. Precision is what makes it unstoppable."
Rodey inhaled deeply. He forced his racing heart to steady. His stance lowered, his body loosened—not rushing, not stumbling. He imagined his feet sliding over tracks, his arms flowing with air. Every motion calibrated. Every strike deliberate.
The Train Speed didn't vanish. Instead, he aligned it.
Balanced. Focused.
When he moved again, the difference was terrifying.
Deniz's eyes widened a fraction—the first real crack in his composure. Rodey's blade of a scalpel cut the air, not wildly, but with surgical intent. His speed wasn't just raw anymore; it was precise, aimed to kill if he wanted.
Clang! Deniz barely parried a strike aimed at his jaw. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
"...Now this is interesting," Deniz muttered, his grin stretching again.
For the first time, their movements were equal—two storms colliding, each blow blocked or dodged by the slimmest margin. To the onlookers, it was no longer clear who was stronger.
Deniz let out a laugh between blows, sharp and wild.
"You finally did it, Rodey! You caught up to me!"
Rodey's scalpel gleamed, steady as his heartbeat.
"This isn't about catching up," he said, eyes burning.
"It's about surpassing you."
Rodey Flash, with balance and precision, against Deniz Loadargo, at full strength.
And for once, it wasn't obvious who the victor would be.
The floor rattled under their feet as the duel reached its boiling point. Rodey's breaths were fire, his muscles raw, but he wasn't breaking. Not this time.
He drew in air—deep, steady.
"Balance the speed. Control the storm."
The wild rush of Train Speed fused into something sharper, deadlier. Rodey's movements were no longer reckless—they were exact, as if every fiber of his body obeyed a surgeon's mind. The scalpel in his grip gleamed with chilling calm.
Then—he vanished.
Deniz's eyes widened. "—What!?"
A blur shot past him, faster than his reflexes could track. For the first time, Deniz couldn't read his opponent. The scalpel's edge grazed his skin, so close it left a thin line at his throat.
He froze. A bead of blood slid down his neck.
Silence.
Rodey stood behind him, his scalpel steady, his breathing calm. "You're not untouchable anymore, Deniz."
For a heartbeat, the entire Diamond Ward held its breath.
Then—Deniz laughed. A wild, genuine roar of laughter that shook his chest. He touched the shallow cut on his throat, staring at the blood on his fingertips.
"You… you little bastard," he said, voice breaking into a grin. "You almost killed me."
Rodey's eyes narrowed. "If I wanted to, I would have."
Deniz's grin widened, his blue eyes blazing with excitement.
"That's the spirit. Rodey Flash—you're faster than me now. But speed alone… doesn't win wars."
Rodey's heart thundered in his chest. For the first time, he had surpassed Deniz—not just in reflex, but in precision. The thin line at Deniz's throat was proof.
But the victory came at a cost.
Pain ripped through his ribs, his lungs screaming with every ragged breath. A hot metallic taste filled his mouth—blood. His knees trembled. Sweat and blood coated his hands as he forced himself upright, gripping the scalpel like a lifeline.
Deniz's grin twisted into shock. "W-what… Rodey?"
Rodey coughed violently, blood spraying. His vision blurred. His body threatened to collapse under the strain, every breath a battle.
"Rodey—no!" Deniz shouted, his voice sharp with panic. He lunged forward instinctively, but even he couldn't reach the boy in time.
The entire Diamond Ward froze. The boy who had just bested Deniz now teetered on the edge of his own limits.
Deniz's eyes widened, disbelief and fear mingling. "This… this is… bad."
Rodey's lips trembled into a small, defiant grin. "Not… done… yet."
And just like that, the arena held its breath, suspended between awe and terror, as Rodey teetered on the brink—bloodied, broken, and unstoppable.