The scene returned to the inn…
Rai and Sasha were still sitting in the same corner.
The silence that followed the conversation about the competition wasn't heavy… but it was deep.
Rai was staring at her cup, tracing the wet circle on the table with her finger, then suddenly lifted her head and said with a sideways smile:
— Really… sometimes when I talk to you, I find you strange, Sasha.
Sasha raised an eyebrow lightly.
— Strange?
Rai chuckled softly.
— Yes. Because of those looks of yours… sometimes you look terrifying. Like a monster in a waitress's body. Hahaha.
She paused for a moment, then added jokingly:
— Are you sure you don't want to participate in the competition? I think everyone would be terrified just by your crazy looks.
Sasha's eyes widened with exaggerated affectation.
— My looks? Me?
Then she placed her hand on her chest as if wounded:
— You're really joking.
She laughed, a soft resonant laugh.
— I'm just excited to watch the fights in the competition. Nothing else matters to me except my break time at the inn… and money.
She paused.
Then leaned forward, her eyes suddenly shining almost cartoonishly:
— Moooooney… lots of money.
Her face wore the expression of someone who loves coins more than people.
Rai laughed louder this time.
— You're hopeless.
— Of course. Life is short, and pockets must be full.
The laughter quieted slightly.
Then Sasha looked at Rai sideways, less playful this time.
— And you, Rai? Aren't you thinking of participating? You're strong enough.
Rai smiled with light self-mockery.
— No… I'm really just a beginner.
Then she added in a quieter tone:
— And also, I don't want to participate… so I don't draw attention to myself… for certain reasons.
Her eyes dropped.
She kept staring at the table.
Something in her features changed.
Hesitation.
Hesitation mixed with memory.
A brief silence.
Sasha looked at her.
A calm look.
Sharp.
But she didn't speak.
She only… watched her.
And inside her mind, a voice spoke that no one heard.
Ah, you… half-human.
The thought paused for a moment.
Then her mind continued in a cold voice:
Or should I say… daughter of the bloodlines.
Her features remained externally steady, but her eyes lost some warmth.
You're very strong… and you don't realize it. Or maybe you do… but you don't know how to control your strength.
She sighed inwardly.
I wanted you to develop in this competition. To break your restraints a little.
But… despite your strength, you're still a child.
Her gaze moved slowly.
And I know the reason for your refusal… it's not just fear of attention.
The thought stopped at one name.
Arin.
You don't want him to be pulled into your real world.
And you don't want your secret discovered because of him.
A faint smile appeared inside her mind.
But what you don't know… is that this boy… will be stronger than you in the future. Even with your true strength.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
I don't know the nature of his power… or its form… but my instinct about it doesn't fail.
Something moves within him… something not yet awakened.
Then her feeling changed suddenly.
But this girl is really annoying… why doesn't she participate? I want to see something exciting.
It's been a long time since I saw something enjoyable in this damn empire.
For a moment—
Her features changed.
The playfulness vanished.
A deep hint of boredom appeared.
Repressed anger.
Heavy tedium.
Like someone who has lived too long… and seen too much.
Rai noticed this immediately.
She raised her head quickly.
— What's wrong, Sasha?
Sasha froze for a fraction of a second.
Then… everything returned.
The smile.
The playful expression.
The light tone.
— Nothing. I just remembered that my break time is almost over.
Then she added with unexpected gentleness:
— And really, I wanted to talk more with you, Rai. You're a kind girl… and talking to you is enjoyable.
Rai blinked lightly in surprise.
Then smiled.
— You fool… you don't usually say things like that.
Sasha laughed.
— What? Do I look scary when I'm also kind?
— Very.
They burst into laughter together.
The atmosphere became warm.
Light.
Their laughter blended with the sounds of the inn, as if they were just two ordinary girls sharing a simple moment.
But—
While Rai was laughing…
Sasha was looking at her.
A short glance.
Deep.
Then she whispered inside herself:
Enjoy this warmth… Rai.
Because the upcoming competition… will not be just a display of fights.
And it will start… moving things that haven't moved for years.
Arin remained standing in his place…
Facing the opposite wall.
He didn't dare look at that elf again.
He ignored him… just ignored him.
But that smile…
It lingered in his mind like a small invisible thorn.
He smiled… he really did.
Since he saw him at the entrance of Rotana, his expression hadn't changed even once.
A face almost featureless… cold like polished stone.
And now?
A smile.
Small… but real.
Arin clenched his fist slightly, then returned to the white-handled sword.
He focused.
He held it slowly, lifting it from its place.
He made short, slow, controlled swings.
The air parted quietly before the blade.
Forget it. Just a coincidence.
But…
— Excuse me.
His body froze.
The voice came from right behind him.
Calm.
Low.
Cold.
He turned slowly…
To find that elf standing only a step away.
Arin's eyes widened for a moment.
Is… he talking to me?
He quickly glanced to the opposite side, behind the elf… to make sure there was someone else.
No one.
He looked back at him.
He was indeed the one.
The elf opened his mouth quietly.
— I am called Faicer.
The name echoed in Arin's mind.
Faicer…
A sharp, short name. Like a blade.
Faicer continued in his calm tone, without noticeable rise or fall:
— I truly admired your pure choice of this sword. I thought you would choose something rougher… without background… just for apparent power.
Arin blinked slowly.
In the other corner of the shop, the other elves froze.
One whispered in clear astonishment:
— Faicer… speaks?
Another said in a low voice:
— To a human?
— I've never seen him initiate conversation even with us…
— What's happening today?
The dialogue was brief… but full of amazement.
Arin refocused on Faicer.
The latter stepped half a step closer.
— Even though you're human… you're strange.
Arin's eyes narrowed slightly.
Faicer continued:
— Since I entered Rotana, I felt a brief shiver. I thought I was being watched by a demon.
He paused for a moment.
— But it was just you… a mere human.
Then he lowered his voice a notch.
— Yet, my feeling toward you was strange… as if you truly were a demon in a lovely human body.
Arin's heartbeat quickened.
A demon…?
But he forced himself to remain still.
He adjusted his stance slightly and relaxed his grip on the sword.
— Thank you… I'm truly honored to meet you, Faicer. I am called Arin.
He smiled lightly, composed.
— Your words embarrassed me. My choice was simple. The sword just… felt honest.
Faicer stared into his eyes for seconds.
— Honesty in a weapon… is rare.
Then he said calmly:
— Arin… sorry for the sudden question, but will you participate in the combat competition that starts in a week?
In a week?!
The word echoed in his mind.
That's very soon…
He took a short breath.
— I'm not sure yet… but maybe… maybe I will participate.
And for the first time—
Faicer smiled more clearly.
Then suddenly grabbed Arin's hands with both of his.
His grip was strong.
Warm, unexpectedly.
— If you truly participate… I hope we meet in a one-on-one fight.
Arin's eyes widened.
— A fight… against me?
— I want to confirm my suspicions about you. I'm a little curious about you… nothing more.
Arin laughed lightly, sarcastically.
— Me? Fight me? I'm just—
He stopped.
Just what?
Just weak?
And what of it?
If I don't fight… I won't reach.
Even if his style is above mine… so what?
Even if he's stronger than me… so what too?
I will defeat him.
He lifted his head.
His gaze became steadier.
— Very well. Then we'll meet… if I participate in the competition.
Then he smiled lightly, challenging.
— I'm curious about you too. I'm just human… while you're an elf.
Faicer's features didn't change much.
But his eyes…
Became sharp suddenly.
As if a quiet venom lay within them.
— Don't think that if we fight… I'll spare you or show mercy even for a moment.
His voice became colder.
— I hate humans in general… and you're no exception.
A faint shiver ran down Arin's back.
But this time…
He didn't lower his gaze.
— We'll see about that.
A brief silence.
Then Faicer smiled thinly.
He turned toward the door.
The other elves moved quickly, still glancing at Arin with confused looks.
They all exited the shop.
The door closed behind them with a heavy metallic sound.
Arin remained alone.
Still.
Tense.
Breathing slowly.
He lowered his gaze to the white sword in his hand.
Then he sighed.
— I will participate…
He said it once.
He lowered his voice further.
— I will participate… even if my goal is only… to change their perception of the human race.
He raised the sword slightly.
The light reflected on its blade.
And in that reflection…
His eyes looked different.
Sharper.
More determined.
Less shocked than before.
Rotana was no longer just a strange city.
It had become an arena.
And an arena… requires a fighter.
At one edge of Rotana…
Far from the bustling markets and clashing weapons…
There was a building rising above the others, like a small palace not overly decorated… yet majestic enough to understand that entering it meant you're not in an ordinary place.
Dark polished stones, short wide columns, and balconies overlooking the entire city.
On the upper floor…
A man stood behind a wide desk made of heavy black wood.
A dwarf.
But not of the stature one might expect.
His height was closer to humans, broad-shouldered, straight-backed. His skin tanned, his beard short black and neatly trimmed, as was his hair.
This time he was standing.
Standing in front of the open window.
The wind pushed the curtains aside, lightly hitting his face.
His eyes fixed on Rotana from above.
The stone rooftops, towers, winding streets…
A city that seemed calm.
Calmer than it should be.
He sighed lightly.
— I hope this competition… goes without issues.
His voice deep, composed.
— And that we find among them… those truly worthy of Khazad's elite level.
A brief silence.
Then—
A knock on the door.
He didn't turn.
— Enter.
The door opened quietly.
An elf youth entered.
His long hair, green with strands of dark blue, flowed behind his shoulders effortlessly. He wore thin-rimmed glasses reflecting the room's light with a faint shine. At his side, a slim elegant sword, not just for decoration.
He carried a neatly arranged set of papers.
He stepped forward with steady steps.
— I've gathered some files on the most prominent fighters who registered themselves half a month ago… Sir Gorm.
The man finally turned.
Gorm.
The head of Rotana.
He looked at the papers, then at the elf.
— Well done, as always, Silas.
Silas bowed slightly, lowering his head respectfully.
— Sir Gorm, this is just my duty as your advisor.
Gorm smiled faintly.
Then returned his gaze to the window.
The wind still brushed his face.
— What do you think of this competition, Silas?
His voice slowed.
— Doesn't it seem like the timing… isn't good? Or is it just a strange feeling I have?
Silas looked at his lord's back.
His eyes behind the glasses reflected little.
Then he smiled lightly.
— I don't think it's unusual timing, nothing more. You're just feeling a bit tense… because you'll supervise the competition yourself.
He paused for a moment.
— And also… because the youngest son of King Khazad will attend it personally.
Gorm turned quickly this time.
He looked at him with a frown.
— I am tense about that? No… no. I just feel uneasy, that's all.
Silas laughed a short light laugh.
— Of course.
Gorm sighed deeply.
— Or maybe you're right… the king is sending his youngest son personally to observe this competition… that in itself is not reassuring.
He approached his desk, placing his hands on it.
— When the royal court moves… there is always a bigger reason than what is spoken.
Silas paused.
Then said in a very calm tone:
— Perhaps… because they are looking for something specific.
Gorm did not comment.
He just waved his hand slightly.
— Alright. Leave the files here.
And step away from the window.
Silas bowed again.
— And now, sir, I'll leave you and go complete the preparations.
He turned toward the door.
His steps were quiet.
Regular.
But…
Before fully leaving—
A short smile appeared on his face.
Cold.
Not the smile of an obedient advisor.
Nor of a loyal servant.
It was the smile of someone…
Who knows more than they should.
Rotana reflected briefly in his glasses' lenses.
And he whispered softly… barely audible:
— I only hope… everything goes as planned.
His hand paused on the door handle.
Then he added inwardly:
Because after a week… not only the fighters' strength will be tested.
But the loyalties of the cities… the blood of kings… and even demons hiding among humans.
He opened the door.
And left.
In the room…
Gorm felt a faint shiver without knowing why.
Meanwhile, in the palace corridor…
Silas's steps walked with the confidence of someone…
Not waiting for the outcome of the competition.
But waiting… for the first spark.