The roar of the crowd was still echoing when Bhanu raised his hand for silence. The crackling tension of battle bled away into the heavy quiet that follows a storm.
On the floor, Dev knelt, sweat streaming down his temples, chest heaving like a bellows. The great claymore lay beside him, the hum of its wind-fire core fading to silence.
Om stood only a few paces away, his breathing slower but heavier, the shimmer of Vajra Kaya gone. His arms ached, the skin beneath his tunic prickling with heat and the sting of shallow cuts. Every joint felt… weighted. Not with gravity, but with exhaustion.
Dawon padded to his side, head low, tail brushing the floor. The lion's golden eyes swept the battlefield as if confirming the threat was gone, then fixed on Om. The sight of the shallow, smoking cuts along Om's arm made the animal's ears flatten, a faint whine escaping his throat.
"Alright, enough gawking!" Bhanu barked. "Healers, here!"
Two healers in pale blue uniforms jogged in from the edges of the arena, their belts bristling with salves, glowing crystals, and cloth pouches of herbs.
"Sit," one ordered Om, her tone brisk but not unkind.
Om obeyed, lowering himself onto a stone bench just off the arena floor. The healer's hands moved fast — cloth wrapping around his shoulder, a cool green glow from her palm seeping into the burns. The relief was instant, though the ache beneath remained, dull and deep.
Across from him, Dev slumped against another bench as his own healer pressed a glowing crystal to his ribs. Wisps of steam rose from the claymore beside him, the blade cooling after the strain of channeling so much energy.
The two warriors sat in silence at first, the noises of the arena now a distant background hum — the chatter of spectators leaving, the muted footsteps of other trainees being called forward for their matches.
It was Dev who broke the quiet.
"You know…" His voice was rough, low from the strain of shouting during the fight. "…when I first heard you'd be receiving inheritance with us, I thought you were the unluckiest inheritor in the whole batch."
Om looked at him, one brow raised. "Unluckiest?"
Dev's eyes didn't quite meet his. "Born weak. That's what everyone said. Couldn't match anyone in physical sports, didn't have the stamina of even the average person. And then… you get a broken inheritance on top of it." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That's like the heavens stacking the deck against you for fun."
Om didn't respond right away. His mind flicked back to the whispers in the school corridors, the sidelong glances, the way even some teachers had quietly pitied him.
"And yet," Dev continued, "you fought me with nothing held back. Didn't even think about losing. You truly became strong."
Om shrugged, wincing at the pull on his shoulder. "If I thought about losing, I would've. That's how it works."
Dev leaned back, letting the healer finish wrapping his ribs. His gaze slid past Om — toward Dawon. The lion was sitting upright now, head high despite his thin, scarred frame. His tail flicked once, twice, a quiet rhythm of watchfulness.
"That lion…" Dev's voice was softer now, almost musing. "When you first bonded with him, I thought you were insane. Everyone did. We all thought — 'Of course Om picked the weakest creature here. That's just his luck.'"
Dawon turned his head toward Dev at the sound of his voice, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing him.
"But now…" Dev paused, his lips twitching into something that wasn't quite a smile, "…I get it. You didn't choose him despite his weakness. You chose him because he's like you."
Om's eyes narrowed, but not in offense. "Like me?"
"Yeah." Dev gestured vaguely between them.
"Everyone underestimated him. I looked at the scars, the way he walked, the way he kept to the edges, and thought — 'That one's nothing special.' But you looked past all that. You saw something the rest of us didn't. Same as you. Weak body, broken inheritance — but there's something in there none of us accounted for. Something stubborn. Relentless."
Dawon blinked slowly, his head tilting toward Om, as if he understood the gist of the words.
The healer tending Om moved to his forearm, smearing a cool salve over the cuts. Om didn't speak immediately. His gaze had gone distant, caught somewhere between memory and thought.
Finally, he said, "I didn't choose Dawon because I pitied him. I chose him because… he didn't stop looking at me. Even when every other creature in that forest turned away, he kept watching. It wasn't weakness I saw. It was defiance."
Dev gave a slow nod. "Yeah. That makes sense."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable this time. It had a weight to it, but not the heavy kind — more like the quiet after a long truth had been spoken.
The healers finished their work, packing away their supplies. One gave Om a nod, the faint green glow in her hand fading. "Don't push that arm for a day. You'll feel the fatigue more than the pain."
Dev's healer gave similar instructions, tapping his rib wrap once before heading off.
They were alone now, save for Dawon, who padded closer to Om's bench and lay down with his head against Om's leg.
Dev cleared his throat. "Listen… I've been a bastard to you since the start. I said things I shouldn't have. Assumed things I didn't understand."
Om's expression stayed neutral. "And?"
"And I'm sorry," Dev said simply. "For all of it. For thinking you were less because of what people said. For thinking your bond with Dawon was a joke. I was wrong."
Om studied him for a long moment. Dev held his gaze this time, no smirk, no bravado — just the plain weight of the words.
"…Apology accepted," Om said at last.
Something eased in Dev's shoulders. He reached for the claymore at his side, testing its weight before leaning it against the bench again. "Guess that makes us even, then. Next time we fight… maybe it won't be about proving who's better."
Om smirked faintly. "We'll see."
Dawon's tail flicked once, as if sealing the agreement.
.
.
.
.
The arena was almost empty now. Most of the spectators had drifted away, the echoes of their voices fading down the long corridors. Om was already walking toward the exit, Dawon pacing at his side.
But halfway to the door, Dawon stopped.
Om turned, puzzled. "What is it?"
The lion's golden eyes weren't on him — they were fixed on Dev, who was still on the bench, testing the grip of his claymore.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Dev lifted his head, meeting that gaze. There was no hostility in it now, only a cautious curiosity.
Dawon took a slow, deliberate step toward him. His claws clicked softly against the stone. Then another step.
Dev stayed still, letting the lion close the distance until they were only a few feet apart. Dawon's head tilted slightly, as though weighing the scent of this man — the scent of fire, sweat, and stubborn will.
A low rumble rolled in Dawon's chest, not quite a growl, not quite a purr. He held Dev's gaze for another long moment… then turned and padded back to Om without a sound.
Dev let out the breath he'd been holding. "Guess I passed," he muttered under his breath.
Om glanced at him but said nothing. Still, the faintest curve of a smile tugged at his lips as he and Dawon walked on.
After waiting for a few minutes at the entrance, both Om and Dawon saw their ride approaching.
And at dawn all went back safely to the facility.