A full year had passed since Ethan first held Garrick's Phantom Blink knife in the hidden armory beneath Rivermoor. The seasons had cycled through their rhythms—spring rains giving way to summer heat, autumn's golden leaves falling to winter's quiet snowfall, and now spring again, with new life emerging throughout Greenhaven Forest.
In that time, Ethan had transformed. His once-soft hands now bore calluses from countless hours of training. While his telekinetic abilities had always been masterful from years of cooking, he had finally learned to channel that precision into combat applications. The gentle control that once guided kitchen knives through delicate preparations now drove throwing blades with lethal accuracy. Each morning before dawn and each evening after the children's dinner, he had pushed himself to overcome the mental barriers between cooking and combat, driven by the unwavering image of Emberlyn in his mind.
The orphans of Rivermoor had watched his evolution with varying degrees of interest. The younger children cheered his progress enthusiastically. Lily and Ling offered encouragement and occasional sparring. Garrick provided wisdom and guidance at every step.
Only Grey had maintained his distance—observing silently from afar, his eyes critical and assessing. Until today.
"I challenge you to a duel," Grey had announced that morning as Ethan prepared breakfast, his voice cutting through the kitchen's usual warm atmosphere. "The training ground. Midday."
The words, spoken plainly but with unmistakable intent, had rippled through Rivermoor like wildfire. By the time the sun reached its zenith, the training ground was surrounded by every resident of the orphanage, from the smallest toddlers to Garrick himself, who stood apart from the others, his weathered face betraying nothing.
Now, standing in the center of the hard-packed earth of the training ground, Ethan felt a strange calm. The nervous cook who had stumbled into Rivermoor a year ago would have trembled at the prospect of facing Grey. That man was gone, replaced by someone who understood his own capabilities.
Across from him, Grey rolled his powerful shoulders, his massive sword gleaming in the midday sun. His customary scowl was replaced by something more calculating.
"Rules?" Ethan asked, his voice steady.
"First blood that would be lethal in a real fight," Grey replied. "No holding back." His eyes narrowed. "You'll never beat me, old man."
A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the gathered children. At twenty-three, Ethan was hardly old, but to the orphans of Rivermoor, anyone past their teens might as well have been ancient.
"Let's find out," Ethan responded with quiet confidence, earning surprised murmurs from the audience.
Grey's lip curled, his pride visibly stung by Ethan's lack of intimidation. "Don't talk big!" he growled, stepping forward and raising his enormous sword high above his head. The blade caught the sunlight, sending reflections dancing across the training ground. "I'll show you real power!"
Without further warning, Grey launched himself forward with explosive force, his sword describing a deadly arc toward Ethan's head. The gathered children gasped collectively, several of the younger ones covering their eyes.
But Ethan was no longer where he had been. With a practiced motion, he had sidestepped the attack while simultaneously drawing seven knives from his belt—six standard throwing blades and the Phantom Blink knife that Garrick had gifted him a year ago.
Grey's sword struck the earth with tremendous force, sending dirt and small stones flying as deep cracks spread from the point of impact. He recovered with the speed of youth, spinning to face Ethan with narrowed eyes.
"Having second thoughts already?" Grey taunted, rolling his shoulders. "Or are you just going to run away the whole time?"
Ethan didn't respond with words. Instead, he extended his hand, his telekinesis lifting the six standard knives into the air around him. They hovered, points gleaming, awaiting his command. The control was flawless—the same precise mastery he'd always possessed in the kitchen, now refined through a year of learning to apply it with lethal intent.
Grey's eyes widened slightly—the only indication that he was impressed—before his expression hardened once more. "You think those little knives can stop me?"
As if in answer, the blades shot forward on Ethan's silent command, approaching Grey from multiple angles in perfect coordination. The technique that had once required months to adapt from kitchen work now flowed as naturally as breathing—each knife guided with the same precision he'd once used to julienne vegetables, but now aimed to kill.
Grey was ready. With a fluid motion that spoke of thousands of hours of training, he spun his massive sword in a protective circle around himself. The air sang with the metallic ring of steel meeting steel as each knife was deflected, sent spinning away harmlessly.
"Is that all?" Grey's voice carried a hint of genuine disappointment.
In response, a blue aura began to emanate from his body—his unique ability manifesting as visible energy that flowed from his core down his arms and into his sword. The weapon hummed with power, trailing azure light as Grey swung it in an overhead arc directly at Ethan.
Ethan leapt aside, but the shockwave from Grey's enhanced strike caught him, sending him tumbling. The Phantom Blink knife slipped from his grip, landing with a soft thud in the dirt near Grey's feet.
The children watching erupted into cheers for Grey, sensing an early advantage. Lily and Ling exchanged concerned glances. Only Garrick remained expressionless, his eyes missing nothing.
Rising to one knee, Ethan wiped dust from his face and allowed himself a small smile. "Now it's my turn," he whispered, just loud enough for Grey to hear.
Grey's eyebrows knit together in confusion—a split second of distraction that Ethan seized. Focusing his mind on the fallen Phantom Blink knife, Ethan activated its magic. In an instant, his form shimmered and vanished, only to reappear directly behind Grey, arm raised to strike.
But Grey had fought alongside Ling and Lily for years, learning from their various abilities. He had anticipated the move, pivoting with remarkable speed and bringing his sword around in a horizontal slash.
Ethan managed to avoid a fatal blow, but Grey's blade caught his left shoulder, opening a shallow cut that immediately began to stain his shirt crimson.
"Ahh!" The pain was sharp and immediate, but Ethan pushed it aside, focusing instead on the six knives that still responded to his will. They rose again from where they had fallen, this time moving with the deadly precision he'd finally mastered—no longer hindered by the cooking mindset that had once held him back, but driven by pure combat intent as Ethan directed them toward Grey with renewed determination.
Grey growled as he spun to meet the new threat, his sword a blur of motion and blue energy. "I'll crush you, Ethan!" The words contained real anger now—frustration that his opponent wouldn't fall so easily.
Taking advantage of Grey's focus on the knives, Ethan teleported again using the Phantom Blink, rematerializing on Grey's right flank with two retrieved knives gripped in his hands. Grey sensed the movement and swung wildly, but Ethan was already gone, teleporting to another position before the massive blade could connect.
"Don't run, coward!" Grey bellowed, his patience clearly fraying. With a roar of frustration, he slammed his sword into the training ground with both hands, channeling his blue aura into the earth itself. The ground shook beneath their feet, cracks radiating outward from the point of impact as a wave of visible energy pulsed in all directions.
Several of the watching children stumbled, and Garrick steadied a young girl who nearly fell. But Ethan saw something else—an opportunity in Grey's momentary immobility after such a powerful attack.
With a flick of his wrist, Ethan sent the Phantom Blink knife high into the air above the training ground. Simultaneously, he commanded his six remaining knives to converge on Grey from different directions, forcing the boy to defend himself with rapid sword strokes.
As Grey focused on deflecting the blades, Ethan locked his eyes on the Phantom Blink knife as it reached the apex of its arc and began to fall. Timing would be everything—a calculation his telekinetic precision made instinctive.
"Now!" Ethan shouted, activating the knife's magic at precisely the right moment. His form dissolved from the ground and reappeared in mid-air, directly above Grey, gravity adding force to his descent as he drove the final knife in his arsenal downward.
Grey looked up too late. Ethan's knife struck his shoulder with precision, the impact amplified by Ethan's falling weight. Grey crashed to his knees, his massive sword slipping from his grasp as the blue aura surrounding him flickered and faded.
Ethan landed in a crouch before him, one hand pressed to his own wounded shoulder, the other still holding the knife at Grey's throat. Both combatants were breathing hard, sweat mingling with dirt and, in Ethan's case, blood.
"I win," Ethan stated simply, no triumph in his voice—only acknowledgment of fact.
A stunned silence fell over the training ground. None of the children had expected this outcome—least of all Grey himself, who remained on his knees, eyes wide with disbelief.
After a long moment, Grey struggled to his feet, wincing as he touched his wounded shoulder. His expression cycled through shock, anger, and finally settled on something more complex—a reluctant respect mingled with wounded pride.
"Geez," he muttered, the single word containing volumes.
He retrieved his sword, sliding it into the sheath on his back with practiced ease despite his injury. When he looked at Ethan again, his eyes had softened slightly, though his scowl remained firmly in place.
"You won this time," Grey admitted grudgingly, "but don't think I'll make life easy for you after this." His tone carried the familiar defensive edge that the orphans of Rivermoor had come to recognize as Grey's way of processing emotions he didn't want to acknowledge.
Ethan sheathed his own weapons and extended a hand. "Alright," he replied simply, understanding the unspoken sentiment behind Grey's words.
Grey stared at the offered hand for a long moment before sighing deeply. "We'll see, Ethan," he said, clasping Ethan's hand briefly. "Don't expect me to go down easy next time."
As they stood together in the center of the training ground, surrounded by the gradually dispersing crowd of children, something unspoken passed between them—an understanding that transcended their different backgrounds and ages. Both men fought for something beyond themselves: Grey for the orphans he had appointed himself to protect, Ethan for the wife he was determined to find and restore.
Garrick approached, nodding approval at both of them before directing them toward the infirmary to have their wounds treated. As they walked side by side, Ethan glanced at Grey and saw not an opponent but a potential ally—someone whose strength might one day help him reach Emberlyn.
With this victory, Ethan had proven himself not just to Grey but to all of Rivermoor. He was no longer just their cook but a fighter worthy of respect—someone who had successfully bridged the gap between culinary precision and combat mastery, one step closer to being strong enough to venture beyond Greenhaven Forest and begin the real search for his lost love.
The path ahead remained long and uncertain, but for the first time, Ethan could see it clearly—a road that might someday lead him back to Emberlyn's arms.