It's my birthday… but you're the ones getting the gift.
She looked like a kind woman, a wife saying goodbye, as she held her husband's hand tenderly.
Dagen returned the touch, his steady, fiery smile shining with passion. He gazed deep into her eyes with an intensity that seemed to pierce her soul, and replied in a firm voice, filled with commitment and eternal love:
"Never, my one and only love"
The silence that followed was filled only by their heavy breathing, until Dagen turned to the squire at his side, who handed him a gleaming spear.
"I, DAGEN LANCE, WILL BE THE CHAMPION!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the arena and igniting the crowd, which exploded in cheers.
But the seriousness returned to the moment when a deep, controlled voice cut through the air:
"Dagen Lance, do you understand that this matter does not involve your family?"
He turned slowly, nodding his head.
"I understand"
"Do you bear responsibility for the losses that may come from getting involved in something that is not your place?"
Dagen took a deep breath, firm in his decision.
"Yes. My family will respect and accept my decision"
"So be it" concluded the authoritative voice, sealing the commitment.
With the weight of the long sword in my hands, I walked to the center of the square. The U-shaped bleachers were packed—at least three hundred people watched my every move. I felt a slight chill in my stomach; it was strange to be in front of so many people. Everyone's gaze seemed to pierce me, but I couldn't show weakness.
I stood in the center, firm. I clenched my fists around the pommel and guard of my sword, raising it to ear level, assuming the roof stance—the position my master always said was the basis of everything.
Across the square, Dagen was ready, holding his spear with both hands. His eyes shone with that mixture of arrogance and confidence that only warriors carry before battle.
When the judge declared the start of the fight, he began to execute the forms with his spear, spinning it quickly around his body—to the left, to the right—so fast that his arm looked like a dark blur.
As the spear cut through the air, he spun elegantly, his feet sliding across the ground without ever crossing, changing angles with an almost mesmerizing fluidity. In the middle of the square, he stopped facing the audience.
"Woooow!" the crowd exploded in applause and cheers. People stood up, caught up in the spectacle.
Dagen smiled confidently as he absorbed the audience's energy. His handsome face radiated an almost unique arrogance. Then, as if that weren't enough, he turned his back to me, leaving his guard open—an obvious provocation, a silent challenge.
When he finally turned to face me, his spear pointed, his words were like a taunting song:
"Did I tell you who I am? I am..."
"A dead man!" I interrupted, stepping forward, twirling my sword in front of him, firm and defiant.
DING!!
The shrill sound of weapons clashing filled the air. Dagen's smile vanished in an instant — even wielding a spear, a weapon that should have given him the advantage, he felt his hands go numb, his knees buckle, as if he had been struck by a giant rock.
He took a step back, swung his spear in circles above his head, preparing a fierce attack. The sharp tip swept toward me.
I responded with a side step, changing my angle, and the blade of my sword collided with his spear.
DING!
Sparks flew, and I saw Dagen almost lose his balance.
(Monster) That was the word I saw reflected in his eyes as sweat poured down his back. He couldn't be hit by anything in this world—not like that, not with that kind of force.
If he were hit directly by that, it would break a bone at the very least.
But he couldn't let me see his thoughts.
Regaining his distance, he spoke loudly, his voice laden with pride and defiance:
"I am Dagen Lance, firstborn son of the House of Lance, heir to the footsteps of the storm. Do you know why someone as worthy as me came to this city that stinks like a pile of shit?"
Our eyes met. The air seemed to compress in that instant.
Then his spear roared, cutting through the air with the sound of thunder about to strike.
DING!!
I managed to deflect the first blow, Dagen's blade flashing as it collided with my sword. But before I could adjust my guard, something changed. His body turned red, as if consumed by an internal flame, and he retreated for a moment.
Then he lunged forward again with a quick thrust, the tip of his spear aimed at my chest.
Dang!
The spear dug into my armor with force. I took a step forward, feeling the impact reverberate through my bones. Without hesitation, I swung my sword in a vertical cut, the blade slicing through the air in a quick, precise movement, leaving a bright red trail in its wake.
Dagen retreated nimbly, small and fast, disappearing to a safe position in seconds.
He was breathing heavily, his eyes flashing with rage and hatred. In a loud, sharp voice, he fired:
"I'm going to hear you beg before you die. You raped my wife, and now I'm going to kill you to set an example to anyone who thinks of touching her!"
His determination was palpable. I saw the rage burning on his face, mixed with a desperate instinct for revenge.
As soon as he took a step forward, somewhat unsteady, I didn't hesitate: I lunged forward with a roar that came from deep in my throat, raw and fierce.
Clank!
Our weapons clashed in a horizontal blow, the sound of metal echoing across the battlefield.
Then there were two quick, vertical collisions in quick succession—the clang of steel singing high in the air.
Light pulsed around us, as if the combat itself created an intense aura.
He gripped his spear tightly, sweeping it horizontally in a violent motion. I stepped aside, feeling the metal creak under the pressure. The sound was almost like a scream.
But Dagen didn't lose control. Skillfully, he channeled his strength to redirect the blade toward the ground, seeking to control the flow of the combat rather than just using brute force.
With a sideways leap, Dagen spun his spear and delivered a direct blow to the back of my neck.
Clank!
The impact was so strong that my black helmet flew off, hitting the ground with a loud crash.