The arena roared with noise as Kael stepped forward, the rough wooden spear clutched in his hands. His opponent was a mountain of a man—broad shoulders, scarred face, an axe so heavy it looked like it could split stone with ease.
The recruits laughed, the sound echoing through the coliseum.
"Too easy."
"He'll be cut in half."
"Why'd they even let him in?"
Even Aeris's expression was carved from stone, unreadable but far from hopeful.
The Captain's voice thundered:
"Begin!"
---
The giant surged forward.
The axe came down with a scream of steel, and Kael barely rolled aside in time. The weapon smashed into the dirt where he had stood, sending up a spray of dust and stone.
Kael scrambled back to his feet, thrusting with the spear. The point scraped harmlessly against the man's armor, barely slowing him.
The crowd laughed louder.
"Pathetic!"
"He fights like a scared dog!"
Kael tried again, feinting left, jabbing right. His opponent swatted the shaft aside like it was nothing, then slammed his boot into Kael's chest. The world flipped, the air rushed from his lungs, and he hit the ground hard.
Pain exploded in his ribs. The spear slipped from his fingers.
---
"Get up," Aeris muttered under her breath from the sidelines. But Kael didn't hear her.
He staggered to his knees, vision blurred. The axe whistled down again. He lifted the spear just in time—the blow splintered the wood, sending Kael crashing back.
His hands burned. His arms shook. The weapon felt heavier with every breath.
The crowd's laughter became jeers.
"Traitor's son!"
"Send him back to the orphanage!"
Draven's voice cut sharp above them all.
"Pathetic, Kael. Just like your father."
---
Kael froze, chest heaving. Those words cut deeper than any blade. His father—the legendary Luster whose name had been drowned in shame. The father he barely remembered, but whose shadow haunted him every day.
The axe swung again. Kael tried to dodge, but it clipped his side, tearing flesh and hurling him to the ground. The world dimmed.
The dirt was cold against his cheek. His body refused to move. The shouts of the crowd grew distant, muffled.
Is this it?
Am I going to die here, in front of them all?
Darkness crept in at the edges of his sight.
---
And then—he saw him.
Through the haze, a figure stood in the dust. A tall man with hair like shadow and eyes like burning steel. His armor was scarred, his spear unbroken.
Kael's heart clenched.
Father…?
The figure turned, looking back at him. No words, no sound—just a look, fierce and unwavering, before striding into the dark.
Something inside Kael stirred. A spark. A weightless fire.
The spear in his hands burned with sudden warmth. His lungs filled with air as if he had been drowning and had finally broken the surface.
---
The giant raised his axe for the finishing blow.
Kael's eyes snapped open.
His body moved before thought, fluid and sharp. He surged to his feet, spear gripped with impossible strength.
The axe came down—Kael stepped forward, faster than sight, his spear a blur.
One strike.
The spear drove through the joint in the man's armor, piercing deep. The giant staggered, eyes wide with shock, then collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash.
Silence swallowed the arena.
Kael stood above his fallen opponent, chest heaving, the broken spear still steady in his hands. His face was cut, his body bruised, blood dripping from his side—but his eyes blazed with fire.
The recruits stared, stunned. Even Draven's smirk faltered.
And Aeris—harsh, unyielding Aeris—blinked, her lips parting just slightly in disbelief.
The Captain's voice boomed through the silence.
"…He stands."
The arena erupted—not with laughter this time, but with awe and whispers.
"Impossible…"
"He was beaten—how did he…?"
"That wasn't luck. That was power."
Kael didn't hear them. His hands trembled, his ribs ached, but in his chest burned the image of his father walking away in the dust.
I'll follow you.
I'll rise.
He lifted the broken spear and stood tall, the Silent Luster who had just begun to awaken.