The sun slowly sank over the training grounds as the final duel came to an end. Everyone's breath was ragged—sweat, exhaustion, and adrenaline mixing in the warm evening air. Yet the day's challenges were far from over.
Coach Harven stepped forward.
"Today's duels are over. But the next matter is just as important as fighting. You will begin missions soon, and a group cannot go without a captain."
Coach Seria added, her voice steady:
"And a leader is needed—someone to guide you, protect you, and make decisions."
A brief silence fell over the students.
Whispers spread through the crowd:
"I think Liven."
"Yes… definitely him."
"Who else could it be?"
But not everyone agreed.
"What? A cursed one as our captain?"
"Someone tainted by the Devil leading us?"
Liven stood at the back, silent, watching.
Harven's gaze swept over the students.
"So, there are dissenters. Then the traditional solution is simple. The decision will be made by combat."
The students fell silent.
Harven continued:
"Those who do not accept his leadership will fight him. If Liven loses, he forfeits the right to be captain."
Two students stepped forward. One broad-shouldered, the other agile, both filled with hesitant anger.
As they reached for their weapons…
Liven walked forward.
Slowly, silently.
His face was unreadable.
Then… he released his aura.
Dark. Cold. Overwhelming.
The arena went silent. The air itself seemed to constrict, suffocating. Knees trembled. The hands of those holding swords shook, struggling to maintain control.
One student swallowed hard:
"This… this aura… just like that day…"
The other spoke in a trembling voice:
"I… I yield. I cannot fight him…"
Harven squinted, a slight nod acknowledging the outcome.
"So the captain has been chosen."
Coach Seria murmured, almost to herself:
"Whether from fear or awe… Liven is now the leader of this group."
Liven remained silent. But his eyes stirred with something—power, solitude, and the weight of responsibility.
For the first time… he had been accepted.
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