The battlefield stretched wide enough to separate two opposing corners, where Arthur and Eric stood, locked in a long stare. Each tried to read the other's style, searching for a hidden opening. The silence was heavy—until the referee's booming voice cut through:
— Both of you… fight!
The duel began, but without direct strikes. The two circled the arena, face to face, each analyzing the other's movements. Even the crowd, usually roaring, grew quiet—drawn instead to the details of every step and breath.
Suddenly, Arthur lunged, one of his swords darting toward Eric's stomach. Eric raised his blade to block the strike.
But the attack was only a feint—to lower Eric's guard from his face. Arthur's other arm twisted quickly, and his second sword shot toward Eric's head.
A fleeting spark passed through Eric's eyes, as if he had lived such a moment before.
Metal clashed with a sharp, heavy ring as Eric parried at the very last instant.
Arthur retreated two steps, his sharp gaze assessing Eric's skill at countering his swift assault.
Eric remained still, his expression stone-cold, his mind consumed by the fight alone.
Then he launched his own offense: his long black sword unleashed a relentless flurry of flowing strikes, forcing Arthur backward—blocking some, dodging others—yet holding his ground with iron defense.
Arthur staggered a step under the crushing assault, and Eric gave him no chance to catch his breath, driving forward with a direct thrust toward Arthur's stomach. Arthur had no time to think. He let his body's instincts decide: pulling Eric's sword to his left side, the blade grazed his chest, carving a shallow wound—but it was a price Arthur deemed worth paying, for it froze his opponent for a moment.
Arthur seized the chance—he tossed both swords aside and drove a brutal punch into Eric's face, then followed with a heavy uppercut that knocked Eric backward.
The crowd roared, the arena trembling with excitement.
Eric quickly regained balance, slipping into a new stance. Arthur reclaimed his swords, and the clash reignited fiercer than ever: a deadly exchange of strikes, where no mistake could be afforded. The speed and pressure leaned in Eric's favor, while Arthur's body bore the strain of defending, despite his unyielding resilience.
Arthur broke the rhythm by grappling directly—his iron grip clamped onto Eric's neck, and to intensify the pressure, Arthur's knee hammered into Eric's ribs and stomach.
Eric wrenched his head free and surprised Arthur with a brutal headbutt, breaking the hold, then slashed his blade across Arthur's face in a quick strike.
A heavy silence fell as both men reassessed each other.
Eric was astonished by Arthur's endurance. Despite blood streaming from chest and face, Arthur stood tall, his eyes refusing retreat. He spat blood to the ground, raised his twin swords—and Eric raised his black blade. A dense silence divided the two storms.
Eric lunged with a swift thrust toward Arthur's face. Arthur raised his swords in defense.
The metallic clash rang out again—but this time, the surprise struck Eric. In the haze of dust, Arthur had trapped Eric's sword to the ground, locking it in a scissor between his twin blades. Before Eric could react, Arthur stamped down hard with his right foot on Eric's sword, then kicked forward, knocking Eric backward—and sent his weapon flying out of reach.
Eric now stood unarmed, facing a relentless beast.
In normal duels, disarming your foe marked the end. But the laws of street fighting knew no such rule.
Eric backed away slowly, bracing for the next assault. On the other side, a confident smile curved Arthur's lips—anyone present could see who the victor would be.
Arthur charged, blades aimed straight at Eric…
But Eric followed the plan he had prepared for such a moment.
As the blades sliced toward his face, Eric dropped low to the ground in one swift motion, pivoted on his right hand, and launched a devastating acrobatic kick that smashed into Arthur's neck and head. The impact hit like a train—Arthur collapsed instantly. He did not lose consciousness, but before he could rise, Eric pounced, raining punches onto his face, one after another—until the referee's voice thundered across the arena:
— Stop!
The referee dragged Eric back. Stunned silence cloaked the crowd. A single gasp rose as Arthur fell.
The fight had ended—in Eric's favor.
When the battle was over and the crowd gradually dispersed, Arthur stirred from a brief blackout, dazed, surrounded by medics from the organization he fought for. His breathing was ragged, his inner voice heavy with defeat.
From the front, he glimpsed Eric approaching slowly, a smile he couldn't suppress tugging at his lips.
Eric spoke, locking eyes with him:
— So… what about the bet?
Arthur rose sluggishly, clutching his neck, then shoved his shoulder deliberately into Eric's with a bitter growl:
— Damn you!
…
Later, Arthur sat by the edge of a fountain, his face steeped in gloom and bitterness, still weighed down by his loss. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through his brooding.
— Well, that wasn't the best way to start our meeting… but introductions are in order, follower.
Eric offered his hand. Arthur slapped it away the moment he heard the last word.
— Don't call me that. Yes, I lost the bet, and I said I'd become your follower… but what the hell do you even want from me?
A short silence followed. Eric seemed to ponder deeply before answering:
— Hmm… what is it you truly want, Arthur, deep down, in this life?
Arthur lowered his gaze, murmuring slowly:
—You talk like we're friends، What do I want?… In a life with no ounce of fairness? Some are born with powers, others with nothing—like me. In a world where the weak have no place. At first, I thought I didn't need strength to face those gifted ones… but after so many defeats, I realized I need it.
Eric stepped closer, his voice steady:
— And what if I told you I could give you that power?
Arthur looked at him in disbelief, as if the words were unreal.
— You're special… aren't you?
Eric's brows lifted in surprise, struck speechless for a moment.
— W… how did you know?
Arthur rose, his eyes fixed on the shimmering fountain ahead.
— Your final move. For someone like me, it's obvious no ordinary human could have that speed.
Eric's tone carried a hint of curiosity:
— You could've exposed me, made me lose for breaking the rules. Why fight an unfair battle?
Arthur answered seriously, without turning:
— I wanted to see how far my strength could go against a gifted one… but it seems I'm still losing.
Eric's voice hardened with resolve:
— I'll ask you again, Arthur… do you want that power?
Arthur turned slowly, his voice heavy and cold:
— Yes.
A calm smile spread across Eric's face as he extended his hand once more. This time, Arthur clasped it firmly.
— I'm Eric Samuel, by the way.
.
— Arthur Fury.
.
— But seriously… what do you need from me?
.
— Hmm… the answer to that… we'll find it there.
.
— Where??
Eric turned with a smile toward Arthur and said:
— Lumièra. :)
.
— …Huh!!?