The Spirit of Derona
Atta was on his knees, vision fading, his body screaming at him to give up. The crowd's cheers for Luc were a distant echo.
Then—
A soft, feminine voice rang in his mind.
"Master… use me."
Atta's eyes widened. "What…? Who are you?"
The voice came again, calm yet urgent. "I am the spirit of your sword… Derona."
Atta gritted his teeth and slammed a fist against the floor. "Tch… I'm hallucinating. I'm hearing voices now of all times…"
"No, Master," the voice insisted, clearer this time. "If you don't use me, you will lose."
Atta froze. "What do you mean?"
The spirit's tone softened. "I know why you hesitate. You're afraid—because last time you drew me, you cut down an entire forest. You fear losing control again. But now… things are different."
Atta's breathing steadied. Slowly, he forced himself to stand, blood dripping down his lip. Across the arena, Luc smirked.
"Well, it's impressive you can still stand, commoner. But this ends now." His stone knights marched forward, hammers raised.
Atta's voice cut through the noise, sharp and defiant: "Only… only Izza knew about the forest. How do you know?"
The spirit answered, gentle as ever. "Because I am Derona. I am bound to you. Your blood fell upon my blade—that connected me to your soul. Now you can command me."
Atta's hand tightened on the hilt. "…Then tell me, Derona. How do I use your power—without destroying everything?"
"Simple," she whispered. "Just order me."
The knights closed in. Atta inhaled deeply, then pulled Derona free. The steel gleamed, its aura pulsing with restrained power.
"Derona…" Atta said firmly, "…don't kill him. Don't destroy the arena. Just obey me."
"As you wish, Master."
Mana surged around him. In a single blur of movement, Atta dashed forward. His blade sang through the air, cutting down knight after knight with effortless precision. Stone shattered, collapsing into rubble.
Luc's confident smirk collapsed into panic. "Impossible…! You're just a human commoner—you're inferior!"
Atta's crimson gaze pierced through him. His voice was cold, steady.
"No, Luc. The inferior one… is you. You're just another noble of the Elf kingdom. I am Atta—Prince of the Human Kingdom."
Before Luc could even react, Atta vanished from sight.
A heartbeat later, he was behind him, blade already sheathed. Atta exhaled, shoulders lowering as he turned toward the exit.
Luc staggered, eyes wide. "The fight isn't over! Where are you going—?"
Atta's voice was soft, almost regretful. "…It's over."
Blood sprayed as a deep cut across Luc's chest split open. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
The arena went silent. Then, the crowd erupted in deafening cheers.
"The winner of the first match," the announcer declared, voice trembling, "is the scholarship student from the Human Kingdom—Atta!"
The entire coliseum roared.
From the balcony, Princess Isha rushed down, heart racing. Reyan leaned back, grinning smugly at a nearby dwarf. "That's my roommate."
Up above, Prince Ethan smirked. "So… you'll make it to the finals. Good. I'll be waiting."
Atta staggered through the exit, sword strapped across his back. Isha caught him as he fell into her arms.
"Sorry…" he whispered weakly, his lips barely moving. "…sorry I took so long."
Then he passed out.
---
To Be Continued.....