— Erik —
I was breathing heavily, feeling the burn on my shoulder and the pain in my stomach from the earlier kick, yet I refused to lose like this.
Every strike I tried to land was parried so easily that it made me grind my teeth. His halberd moved as if it were a natural extension of his body, and even when I managed to get close enough to make the reach of his weapon useless, I couldn't do anything.
How is that possible?
Our eyes met for a moment. Unlike me, who was about to puke to keep up that pace, he looked almost bored.
I had always believed that my hard work, my effort, the sacrifices of every single day would make a difference, or at least give me one single victory against him.
And yet, look at me now. Exhausted and wounded, facing someone younger and recently promoted in rank.
Every spark that flew from our blows felt like another piece of my pride breaking. Me, the prince, the one who was supposed to lead others, was being treated like a beginner. It was genuinely depressing.
I really couldn't understand the difference between us, not only in fighting. How could every movement of his exude such confidence? And how could he make every decision without the slightest hesitation?
All I could do was keep fighting, and when I saw an opening after his last attack, I put everything into my strike.
Now! This time, he'll fall. This time I will win!
I know it was childish, but I needed at least one victory, something to tell me that everything I had lived through had a meaning. Or maybe it was just my petty side wanting to beat him. In the end, I didn't care, as long as I won.
The blade came down from above, fast. I could already see the moment I would hit him, getting the victory I had been waiting for.
But instead, I felt a sharp blow to my throat and the searing pain that followed.
I collapsed to the ground, coughing, unable even to groan, clutching my throat with my hands.
"...Adel wins!"
Alfred's voice made me sigh in resignation and humiliation. Once again, I had lost to him. Rage devoured me, not at Adel, but at myself and my own patheticness.
I slowly lifted my gaze toward him. He stood there with no sign of fatigue, and then I noticed his hand stretched out toward me. I wanted to swat it away, but that would have made me look even more pathetic, so I took it, and he helped me to my feet.
"Satisfied?" he asked as if he had done me a favor.
"I couldn't even land one hit... do you think I can be satisfied?" I said, annoyed, especially because of the pain in my throat.
Knowing him, I expected him to take the chance to rub it in, but strangely, he tilted his head, confused.
"Did you fight with all your strength?"
"Well, yes."
"Have you ever beaten Alfred?"
"...No."
"Then why does it bother you so much to have lost to me? Is it because you couldn't hurt me? Because I'm younger?" he asked seriously. "Suppose you had been able to win, would it have changed anything?"
I found myself unable to answer his series of questions. I had fought as best as I could, true, but compared to Adel's skill, it was nothing. During the whole fight, I had been a victim of his rhythm, so the result was something I couldn't deny.
But then, what was this feeling inside me that made me so angry?
"Or rather, I want to ask you, why did you want so badly to beat me?"
I wanted to say "because of your behavior," but hadn't I seen worse?
Maybe out of pride, but pride about what?
Maybe it was just personal satisfaction, but for what purpose?
I looked at that boy who, in so little time, had caused so many changes and headaches, and I slowly began to understand. The answer had always been inside me, and it was so simple and plain that until now I had been ashamed even to consider it as an option. I...
I am jealous of him.
I was jealous of the person who, when he was only Grade 1, managed to stand up to two Grade 2s. Jealous that one of his plans bore more fruit than years of work. That every choice he made was full of confidence. Of his strength. Finally... jealous that he might have far more qualifications than me to become king.
But then my common sense came into play and, as much as I hated to admit it, my admiration for him.
He did everything with his own hands, whether arguing with us, entering enemy zones, deceiving anyone in his way, fighting for what he thought was important, or the fact that he was willing to do anything to reach his goal.
If there was one thing I understood about Adel, it was that, in his twisted way, he was honest. If he killed someone, he didn't make up ridiculous excuses or call it the lesser evil; he did it because he thought it was necessary. Or, cruel though he might be, he didn't leave you to your fantasies if he found them absurd.
Sometimes it would have been easier to label him a madman, but when you saw the reasoning behind his words, you were always forced to change your mind.
Every time I had to deal with him, it was exhausting. When I wanted to be jealous, my pride stopped me; when I tried to see something good in him, my jealousy kicked in.
It was a constant cycle of emotions, all for a boy so young.
"You... you're not at all normal, are you?" was all I could manage to say.
"A normal person would take your question badly. Fortunately, I'm not normal."
Seeing him shrug with that amused smile made me really want to kill him... if I was capable, of course.
"Just go away, your face annoys me," I said, irritated.
"Looks like someone's a sore loser. Not very mature for someone your age."
"Fuck you! I'm only twenty-five!"
To hell with my age, I was in the prime of my life!
"Okay, okay, you're being dramatic," he said dismissively. "If there's nothing else, I have people to kill and to kidnap."
Something really was wrong. In the past, I would have found such words absurd, yet now they seemed to have become my norm.
Watching him walk away casually, I almost wondered whether the complexity of my feelings meant anything to that person.
"All good, my prince?"
"Would saying I'm disappointed and down change anything?" I asked with a bitter laugh.
"The important thing is that you did your best."
"But I lost."
"Not every king has to be the strongest. A king is a figure people look to, knowing that with him their lives are safe and that they see him with respect."
Seeing how he was trying to cheer me up, I made sure not to get stuck in my inferiority complex and asked him something about the fight.
"What do you think I should have done to win?"
I expected any kind of answer, but his expression grew more and more complicated and thoughtful.
"Nothing?"
"My prince, even though I've learned a lot in my life, I don't consider myself the best, especially when it comes to fighting."
"And?"
I didn't understand where he was going with this.
"What I mean is, he's too strange," he said resignedly. "His fighting skills are excellent, I won't deny that, but his style is very basic."
"If that were the case, I wouldn't have lost so drastically."
It was true that he was stronger than me in terms of power, but otherwise we were more or less even.
"That's the problem. What he had, and what decided the fight, was experience." I saw Alfred rub his forehead, unable to give a rational explanation. "I can understand talent, strength, or good instinct, but how the hell does he have all that combat experience when he's only sixteen?"
"Can you explain more?" Even though I had an idea of what he meant, I still wanted his opinion.
"Since you lived it firsthand, you'll understand that from beginning to end, every attempt you made to attack was dealt with absurd ease. If he had adapted to your style over time, I would have chalked it up to his talent, but from the very start, you were countered with precise, studied moves, as if he had been repeating them his whole life."
"That makes no sense," I said.
"I know." He sighed. "The more time passes, the more sure I am that there's something wrong with him. He has too many elements that contradict each other."
"So you think he's still a danger?"
No, wait, now that I think about it, my question made no sense. When had I stopped seeing him as a danger?
Maybe after all the times we met and argued, I had let my guard down, but could I really say he wasn't a threat?
"Honestly, I hope not. I'm not sure I would be able to beat him."