Upon hearing Kael's words, the crowd grew quiet, taking a moment to process what had just happened.
The fight had seemed one-sided for both parties at different points. There had been no clear reason to forfeit.
Besides, no one forfeited a fight within the club. It was an unwritten rule everyone respected.
They could not understand why he had done it.
And those who had bet on the fight grew outraged.
"Is he really that afraid to lose face?"
"Forfeiting a fight? Does he have no honor?"
"I want my money back!"
The crowd grew more furious with each passing moment, voices rising almost to the point of screaming.
The judges, who had never expected something so sudden, quickly gathered their thoughts and brought the match to an end.
"Lucian wins by forfeit."
Kael paid no attention to any of them.
Slowly unwrapping the cloth around his hands, he made his way through the crowd toward his room.
Lucian watched him leave with a dark expression before forcing himself to calm down. He let out a quiet sigh.
"Seems like I did not get him to reveal his pathway in the end either..."
He shook his head slightly.
"No matter. I got more information than I needed. However... I will have to pass along what I found out. I wonder where he came from... Kael Sinclaire."
Lucian made sure to memorize the name before quickly exiting the arena.
On his way to his room, Kael grabbed a coffee and let his thoughts wander.
'That should be enough,' he thought, taking a slow sip.
'This way, I can leave the club naturally, without drawing too much attention to myself, and without revealing any hints about my pathway.'
Kael had long planned to leave the club, but now he had finally set the plan in motion.
Of course, he could have simply disappeared, but that would have raised questions.
Where had the rising star gone? Why had he left?
By fighting and "losing" to Lucian, Kael had given the people an explanation, even if it was an imperfect one.
People built images based on what they saw.
So far, Kael had seemed like an unstoppable force. Nothing could touch him.
But after losing twice to Lucian, it would appear — at least to some — that he had given up the fight club out of rage, disappointment, or shame.
Maybe the image was not perfect, but the implications were there. It was enough.
In the end, it would be up to the people to fill in the gaps with their own assumptions.
It seemed like a small detail, but if it was enough to make even one person forget about him, it would be worth it.
As soon as Kael entered the room, Darian jumped out of bed, a grin stretching almost from ear to ear.
"Guess what?"
Kael did not even have a second to respond before Darian blurted out, "I won!"
If emotions could blind, Kael would probably have gone blind right then.
"Man, you should have seen it. Right after blocking a punch, I threw a right hook and hit him perfectly, knocked him out."
Kael nodded in approval, halfheartedly making his expression seem convincing.
But even Darian did not seem convinced.
"Anyways, how did your fight go?"
Darian had calmed himself slightly before asking.
"I lost."
"You... you lost?"
Darian raised an eyebrow, looking even less convinced than with Kael's impressive acting earlier.
Before Darian could continue, Kael spoke again.
"I am leaving."
Darian's eyes widened slightly in disbelief.
"Why?"
He spent nearly half an hour eagerly trying to convince Kael not to leave, but it was not his decision to make.
After getting nowhere, Darian hurried over to his nightstand, pulling out a pen and a small piece of paper. He quickly scribbled something down.
"Here, take it."
Darian flashed a warm smile, reaching out the paper for Kael to grab.
"It is not much, but if you ever need something, or need any kind of help, make sure to pay them a visit. Tell them about me, and they will welcome you with open arms."
Kael took the folded paper and opened it. His eyes widened slightly.
"Darian Claymore?"
"Yup. That is where my family lives. They own the banks throughout the western continent, so even if you need some financial help, do not be afraid to ask."
Kael looked at him, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Even if it sounded like Darian was praising his own family, he was actually underselling them.
Claymore was one of the most well-known bloodlines on the continent, aside from the noble houses.
It was not officially recognized as a noble family, but every noble house knew of them. They were frequently invited to events normally reserved only for nobility.
Though they had not risen to power through Luminaire abilities like the noble houses had, they had earned respect through clever financial decisions.
More and more cities tried to bring Claymore banks into their territories.
By now, almost all of the western continent's currency was monitored and managed by the Claymore banks, and the number of cities under their influence continued to grow with each passing day.
Even though the noble families managed their own fortunes, they maintained close ties with the Claymore family, regularly discussing matters of wealth and how best to adjust their economies when necessary.
Kael tucked the note into his inner pocket before speaking.
"Thank you. I'll keep it in mind."
Darian gave him a friendly pat on the back.
"Anyways, before you go, let me treat you one more time."
The two of them left to grab something to eat. As they sat together, they talked about everything that had happened. Even though they had only known each other for a few short weeks, it somehow felt longer. Darian, especially, never seemed to run out of things to say.
The sun had already begun to set when they made their way back to their room. Shadows stretched long across the floor as Kael packed his few belongings.
When he finished, he turned toward the door.
Darian stood there waiting, reaching out his hand with a wide, easy smile.
Kael took it without hesitation, giving it a firm shake.
"It was good getting to know you, Kael. And good luck. I'm sure you'll accomplish pretty much anything you set your mind to," Darian said, his voice steady but carrying a note of something heavier.
Kael nodded once.
"Same to you, Darian."
And just like that, Kael walked out the door, leaving behind an empty bed and a quiet room.
Some time passed before Talia pushed the door open.
"Hey guys—?" she started, but her words caught as she looked around.
"Where's Kael?"
Darian was lying in his bed, arms tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His voice was calm when he answered, but there was a tiredness to it too.
"He decided to leave. After today's fight. Actually… I think he decided to leave long before that."
Talia's gaze lowered, her raven hair falling around her face as she tilted her head down.
"Oh. I see..." she said softly, almost to herself.
"I didn't even get to say goodbye."
The room stayed silent after that.
Kael signed a few papers before stepping out onto the street, the warm summer breeze washing over his face.
'Ah, finally.'
The club had been more than he initially thought.
The original plan when he joined was simple. First, to remove any living expenses, since he had only brought a small pouch of coins with him.
But more importantly, he had entered to practice using the Titanwood Stalker Mote, and the results had been nothing short of impressive.
And lastly, he needed a place to lay low.
After the assassination, Kael had decided not to make any drastic moves for a few weeks, letting Syleena work quietly in the background.
All of the key points had been achieved, though there had been a few complications along the way.
First, he had been forced to share a sleeping quarter with two other people.
Keeping a low profile and staying forgettable was not difficult for Kael, but after spending so many days with the same faces, it would not matter how he acted. Sooner or later, he would leave a lasting impression.
It was only natural for humans to remember those they spent enough time around.
Once he realized that leaving an impression was unavoidable, he made a simple decision to stop caring about it.
And since fighting was necessary to work out his theory and train with the Titanwood Stalker Mote, there had never been much choice to begin with.
But he had made more of an impression than he wanted.
Already during his first fight against Lucian, he had made a mistake.
It had taken him too long to realize not only that Lucian was a Luminaire, but that he had been planted within the club by the Valthorne family.
Maybe, if his luck had been better, he would have recognized the Valthorne presence without exposing himself.
But instead, his very first opponent had been one of the people he was supposed to avoid.
Kael sighed inwardly.
'Luck. The one factor no amount of preparation could ever fully erase.
You could sharpen your mind, train your body, study every variable, and still, a single chance encounter could shatter carefully crafted plans.
Truly, the only unpredictable force in the world was luck.'
'But no matter. It was done. It had already happened. There's nothing I can do about it now.'
Kael did not linger on these thoughts for long before setting off.
The sun was starting to set, casting the world in a golden hue.
The birds had gone silent, and most of the people who had filled the streets earlier had retreated into their homes.
Velthoria was quiet now, with only small groups of friends and the occasional couple wandering through the empty streets.
As he walked along the shore, the lake glimmered with golden sparkles, each ripple catching the last light of the setting sun.
The waves rolled in endlessly, crashing against the rocks with a steady, familiar rhythm.
The air was rich with the scents of blooming flowers, a soft mixture of lavender, dandelions, and wild primrose growing along the water's edge.
The faint sweetness carried on the breeze, blending with the cool scent of the lake.
The further he walked along the shore, the more familiar the surroundings became.
A building he had passed multiple times.
A tree with a strangely twisted branch.
And eventually, a familiar bench came into view.
Upon the bench, a young woman sat, wearing a simple blue flower-patterned dress.
Her posture was relaxed, a sketchbook resting on her lap with a pen lying loosely across it.
Her hands lay gently over the cover, unmoving.
Her hair was tied up in a simple bun, held together by an engraved gold pin, and her gaze rested on the sun sinking into the horizon.
Her side profile was quiet and balanced, her nose small and delicate, complementing the light scatter of freckles across her skin.
At a first glance, she seemed almost innocent, untouched by the weight of the world.
But she was not.
It was Syleena.