The corridors of the dwarven castle were quieter now, the echo of footsteps muted by the weight of the mountain above. Noel and Elena walked side by side, neither in a hurry. For the first time in days, there was no shouting crowd, no clash of steel, no pressure of survival. Only the soft hum of mana lamps lighting their path.
Elena's voice broke the silence, calm and reflective. "The Hunt Festival is coming soon."
Noel glanced at her, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "It's true but before that our date."
She nodded. "That's true too. Regarding the festival, when my grandmother was matriarch, it was different. Winning wasn't just expected—it was an obligation. I trained every year with that in mind, because if I failed, it would have been shameful for our family."
Her amber eyes lowered slightly, though her tone carried no bitterness. "But that ended when my father became patriarch. He changed everything. Now… he only tells me to do my best. Nothing more."
