Aslan had easily defeated his first opponent and advanced to the next round.
Soon after, it was Cael's turn.
He stepped into the arena with confident strides, twirling his sword once and raising it with a cheeky grin. His opponent launched himself forward immediately, fast and aggressive—but Cael was calm. Calculated. Their swords clashed sharply, metal ringing across the arena. Cael's stance was composed, his movements precise. When a powerful slash nearly threw him off balance, he let himself slide back a few steps, digging in his heels, but never losing control.
He waited, letting the boy waste energy on wild swings. Then, with a smooth pivot, Cael countered with a flurry of clean, deliberate strikes.
From the stands, George leapt up. "That's our Cael! Sword genius in motion!"
Alice cupped his hands and called out, "Try not to make him cry this time, Cael!"
Cael groaned mid-duel. "You guys are terrible cheerleaders."
Moments later, a feint, a spin, and a light tap to the chest disarmed his opponent. The crowd erupted as Cael lowered his sword, winked toward Alice and George, and casually strolled off the field.
Meanwhile, Aslan's opponent had already fallen to the ground.
The referee raised his hand. "Aslan wins!"
Cael had also ended his match with his sword to his opponent's neck. "Cael wins!" came the next announcement.
In Aslan's next fight, his final strike had disarmed his opponent—his sword flung across the field after a powerful clash.
One by one, both Aslan and Cael cut through their brackets. Their names climbed the leaderboard, edging closer to the semifinals.
---
The Semifinal: Aslan vs. the Senior Champion
Aslan stepped into the arena again. This time, facing a broad-shouldered third-year—a 3-star swordmaster who had made it to last year's finals. His presence alone turned heads. Calm. Steady. Dangerous.
The moment the bell rang, steel clashed with a deafening clang.
Aslan darted sideways, narrowly avoiding the senior's heavy swing. Sparks flew as their blades collided again, the sound sharp and raw. The senior didn't flinch, didn't overextend. He blocked, pressed forward, tested Aslan's limits.
He's good, Aslan realized. Not just strong—smart.
He retaliated with a fast slash, but the senior parried and answered with a brutal counter. Aslan blocked—just barely—but the force drove him back, boots screeching across the stone floor.
Breathing heavily, Aslan gripped his sword tighter. Sweat clung to his forehead.
I can't use my real sword skills, he thought, jaw tight. I promised myself I wouldn't.
Another strike. Another block. A near miss.
Aslan's stamina was beginning to wear thin.
He's tougher than the rest... but I can still beat him. Without powers.
Aslan crouched low, gripping his sword with both hands, lungs burning.
Then—it happened.
A faint glow pulsed from the pendant around his neck. Just for a second.
For a heartbeat, a soft aura shimmered around his sword.
And then—it vanished.
But the fatigue? Gone. His limbs steadied. His pulse slowed.
What... was that? he thought, stunned.
From the stands, the crowd gasped.
"Was that… aura?" someone whispered.
Even the instructors leaned forward, sensing something unusual.
Alice shot up, punching the air. "THAT'S MY BOY! THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND!"
The senior, distracted, glanced toward Alice, then looked back at Aslan. "You've got loyal friends."
Aslan groaned, rubbing his face. "He's seriously embarrassing me in front of everyone."
The duel resumed.
This time, Aslan moved like a stream in motion. Smooth. Relentless. His sword whistled through the air, striking fast, feinting faster. The senior faltered, defending with all he had.
Steel clashed. Footsteps pounded. Breaths echoed in the silence between strikes.
The final blow came swiftly.
The senior stumbled backward and dropped to one knee, panting hard. Aslan stood over him, sword at his neck, unmoving.
The arena held its breath.
"Aslan wins!" the referee declared.
Cheers erupted from every corner.
Aslan exhaled slowly, lowered his blade, and extended a hand.
"That was an amazing fight," he said sincerely.
The senior looked up, then let out a breathless laugh and grasped his hand.
"It was," he agreed. "For me too."
The two stood together—rivals, yes, but warriors who had earned each other's respect.