Clack.
The sound of wood striking wood echoed sharply through the training hall as their swords collided once more. The impact rang out, loud and solid, vibrating through both their arms. Neither of them backed away. Neither of them showed even the slightest sign of giving up.
They stood close now, faces tense, breaths heavy. Sweat rolled down Vin's temple, his grip tightening around the wooden sword until his knuckles turned pale.
Why does he have to be the talented one? Vin thought bitterly.
His mind raced even as his body continued to move.
I've given it my all these past two years. I trained until my bones felt like they would crack. I ran until my legs gave out and I passed out in the dirt. I endured everything without complaint.
Another clash. Another block.
So why? Vin screamed inwardly. Why is the youngest stopping my attacks so easily?
Jude stepped in at that moment, his movement sharp and clean. A straight strike slipped past Vin's guard, grazing the left side of his face. The wooden blade brushed his cheek, close enough to sting, close enough to remind him how thin the line was between victory and defeat.
Vin staggered half a step back, eyes widening.
"Why are you so distracted?" Jude said aloud, his voice calm but firm as he looked directly at his brother. "Do I look like an easy target to you?"
Vin clenched his jaw.
"You'd better stop thinking," Jude continued, raising his sword again, "and give it your all."
Those words hit harder than any strike.
Vin froze for a brief second, then let out a sudden laugh.
"Haha…" Vin said, straightening his back. "You're right."
He lifted his head, his eyes clearing.
"Doubting myself is already admitting defeat," Vin said, his voice steady now. "I'll end it with this final strike."
He stepped back and took his stance properly this time. His feet planted firmly against the floor, his posture straight and balanced. Both hands tightened around the hilt of his sword as he extended it forward, pointing directly at Jude.
The air shifted.
Jude felt it instantly.
The playful edge vanished from his expression. He smiled—not mockingly, but with genuine excitement—and adjusted his own stance.
A decisive blow, Jude thought. This next attack decides the victor.
For a brief moment, everything went quiet.
No movement. No sound. Just the two brothers facing each other, the distance between them charged with tension.
Then they moved.
Both surged forward at the same time.
To the onlookers, it was nothing but a blur of motion. Two bodies crossing paths at full speed. A sharp crack echoed through the hall as their wooden swords collided with tremendous force.
The sound bounced off the walls, ringing long after the strike itself had ended.
They passed each other.
Vin stood near one edge of the sparring area. Jude stood near the other.
Neither moved.
For a heartbeat, it was impossible to tell who had won.
Then—
"It's a tie," the Head Guardian announced.
Almost instantly, both wooden swords shattered. The broken pieces fell to the ground in dull clacks, scattering across the floor.
Vin stared down at his empty hands in disbelief. He slowly lifted his gaze to Jude.
"Next time," Vin said quietly, breathing hard, "I'll be the winner."
A small smile curved on Jude's lips. "We'll just have to wait and see."
Vex, who had already gotten back on his feet, walked over toward Vin. Vin turned toward him, still breathing heavily.
"Bro," Vin said, trying to catch his breath, "you're not still angry, are you?"
Vex didn't answer.
He stepped closer.
Then suddenly, he punched Vin straight in the face.
Vin flew backward and landed flat on his back with a heavy thud.
"This fucker!" Vex shouted. "You kicked me out and still ended it with a tie?!"
Vin groaned, staring up at the ceiling.
Vex turned sharply toward Jude. "Hey, Jude," he said, pointing at him, "it's me and you next time."
Before Jude could respond, a sound cut through the moment.
Clap.
Clap.
Slow. Deliberate.
"This is a really touching brotherly moment," a voice said from behind them.
Everyone froze.
All three brothers turned toward the entrance of the training hall.
A man stood there, leaning casually, clad in red armor that bore the marks of countless battles. His presence filled the doorway completely. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his stance relaxed yet overwhelming.
Long dark hair fell past his shoulders. His eyes were black, deep and sharp.
It was Alex Avernus.
Captain of the Red Knights.
The Head Guardian immediately turned and bowed deeply. "Welcome back, sir."
Vin, Vex, and Jude stood in stunned silence.
They could all feel it.
What stood before them wasn't just a man—it was like facing a mountain. Immovable. Crushing. Overwhelming.
Alex grinned widely.
"Well?" he said, spreading his arms slightly. "Won't you come and greet your uncle, my amazing nephews?"