The inn was quieter than ever. The murmurs of people outside, celebrating the previous day of the tournament, barely reached the room where the group rested. Asori, seated on the edge of the bed, kept his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped, trembling imperceptibly. Blair watched him from a corner, worried, while Mikan spun a dagger between her fingers as if it were a simple tavern game.
—I can't stop thinking about that knight —Asori said at last, breaking the silence—. His presence… it's as if my body remembers dying all over again.
Mikan whistled, lowering the dagger.
—That's not normal, huh. If even Blair with the Sweet Kiss can't fully sense who that guy is, it's because something very weird is going on.
Mikrom, sitting with his arms crossed, let out a dry chuckle.
—Then don't worry about it, brother. I'm going to smash him to pieces.
Asori lifted his gaze. He wanted to smile, to trust that easy confidence of Mikrom's that had gotten them out of trouble so many times. But deep down he knew something was different, something didn't add up. The fear wasn't logical.
Blair set a gentle hand on Asori's shoulder, as if to anchor him to the present.
—Trust him —she whispered—. Mikrom doesn't go down easily.
Asori nodded, though the knot in his stomach didn't loosen.
The next morning, the heralds announced an unexpected change to the fight order. The Astral-amplified voice boomed through the arena:
—By order of the honorable Darian, the quarterfinal bouts will be fought in reverse order! The fourth match will be the first!
The crowd's roar was immediate. Asori, Blair, and Mikan traded startled looks. It meant only one thing: Mikrom would open the day against the Knight of Shadow.
The man's name hammered through the air.
—First bout! Mikrom of Azoth versus Sir Kael!
The stands erupted in shouts and wagers. The man in black armor walked at a measured pace to the platform, helmet under his arm, revealing only a face shrouded in shadow, eyes red as embers. As he passed, he glanced sidelong at Blair and a malicious smile curved his lips.
Asori went cold. That gesture, that look, made him nauseous.
—No… —he murmured—. He isn't human.
The starting bell thundered and Mikrom advanced with the force of an avalanche.
—Come on, Knight! Let's see if you're as strong as the silence you wear!
He stomped the ground and a column of earth surged, spearing straight for Kael's torso. The knight turned smoothly, dodging as if he already knew what would happen. Mikrom grinned, feral, raised his arms, and multiple pillars burst from the floor to crush him.
—No way you dodge this!
The arena shook with a brutal crash. Dust, rock, and a tremor that made the stands vibrate. The crowd screamed, convinced it was over.
But through the smoke, a dark silhouette emerged without a scratch. Kael lifted a hand and, with a simple turn of his wrist, the rocks around him crumbled as if they were dry sand.
—Is that all? —his voice was deep, distorted, as if speaking from an abyss.
Mikrom clenched his teeth and charged again, his arms blazing with Astral. The first exchange was titanic: fist against blade. The air burst with the impact, a shockwave ripping dust from the ground. Mikrom held firm, even countered with a headbutt that forced the knight to give a step back.
The crowd roared.
—That's Mikrom! —someone shouted.
—Finish him already! —others chanted.
For the first few minutes, Mikrom dominated. His brutal style, Astral packed into every blow, seemed to tear through everything. Kicks that split the air, punches that made the platform groan, rocks hurled like projectiles. Kael dodged calmly, but the pressure was real.
—Ha! —Mikrom laughed, panting but exultant—. Where's all that darkness you brag about?
The knight tilted his head a fraction.
—Feed the void…
And then everything changed.
Kael began to anticipate every move. If Mikrom raised a fist, Kael was already to the side. If the ground trembled, he was already floating over a safe point. It was as if with each second he learned more about his rival's style.
The counters came. A brutal knee to the gut. A lateral slash that Mikrom barely blocked with Astral, still leaving blood on his arm. An elbow to the face that made him stagger.
—Mikrom! —Blair cried from the stands, hands to her chest.
The crowd roared, split between cheers and horror.
Mikrom spat blood, grinning in defiance.
—You think I'm going down from that? Look closely, shadow! I'm Azoth's hammer!
With a ragged shout, he drove both fists into the platform. The entire arena shuddered as if an earthquake was born beneath their feet. Giant cracks tore across the floor, stone columns rose in a wide radius. The crowd's roar became deafening.
But when the dust cleared, Kael still stood at the center of the platform, unscathed, with unbearable calm.
—Your blows are heavy… —he said, walking toward him—. But heavy are the bodies of the dead.
Before Mikrom could react, the knight moved with impossible speed for such armor. A black, ironlike fist sank into Mikrom's stomach. The impact boomed like thunder.
Mikrom's eyes bulged, blood surged to his throat, and he was launched several meters backward, crashing outside the arena with a clatter.
—MIKROM! —Asori and Mikan shouted in unison, sprinting toward him.
The crowd had gone mad, some cheering, others horrified by the brutality of the strike.
Mikrom lay on the ground, writhing, breath shattered. Blair covered her mouth, trembling.
Kael, still at the center of the arena, slowly lifted his gaze to the stands. His damned smile aimed at Blair. His red eyes pinned her like knives.
Asori felt his whole body shake, not just with rage, but with fear. An animal, pure fear telling him that at some point he too would have to face that monster.
And that maybe… he wouldn't come out alive.