Alden's — POV
The applause still echoed faintly in my ears as I walked out of the arena.
It was strange.
I had stood in that same place not long ago—under the same sky, before the same crowd—and yet this time, the noise felt distant. Hollow. As if it belonged to another world entirely.
Alisia had won.
Of course she did.
I had watched her match from beginning to end, my eyes never leaving the battlefield. Every step she took had been precise. Every word she spoke had carried quiet authority. And when she finished it—when Rika de Fewin finally yielded—I felt something tighten in my chest.
Not awe.
Not fear.
Something far more troublesome.
I exhaled slowly and kept walking, letting my feet carry me away from the arena. My mind was… blank. Too blank. Like someone had wiped the board clean and left me alone with nothing but a single question written in heavy ink.
How am I supposed to fight her?
The path curved gently, stone giving way to trimmed grass and flowering hedges. The garden near the arena was secluded—designed for nobles who wanted privacy, or fighters who needed quiet before or after a match.
I sat down on a wooden bench beneath a tall tree, its leaves whispering softly as mana drifted through the air.
I leaned back, staring at the sky.
The problem wasn't fear.
That much I knew.
I had faced monsters, elites, anomalies—things that should have killed me a dozen times over. Power didn't scare me. Strength didn't make my hands shake.
So why—
Why did the thought of drawing my sword against her make my chest feel heavy?
"…Tch."
I rested one hand on the hilt at my side, fingers brushing the familiar grip.
The issue wasn't that I couldn't defeat her.
Nor was it that I thought she was invincible.
The real problem was simpler. And far worse.
How was I supposed to hurt her?
I closed my eyes.
I tried to imagine the final match. Tried to picture the moment I would step forward, blade in hand, facing Alisia across the arena.
And every time—
My arm hesitated.
My grip loosened.
I couldn't imagine striking her. Couldn't imagine seeing her bleed. Couldn't imagine being the reason pain crossed her calm expression.
"Is it because she's my friend…?" I muttered quietly.
The word felt insufficient.
Friend.
Yes, we had fought together. Trained together. Shared meals, silence, small moments between battles. I had seen her composed under pressure, unfazed by things that would rattle most people.
I had never seen her falter.
Never seen her break.
And maybe—
Maybe that was why I didn't want to be the one to do it.
"…Or is it because I like her?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
I laughed under my breath, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Well, obviously," I admitted to the empty garden. "I'm a guy."
What kind of guy wouldn't notice her?
Beautiful. Calm. Intelligent. Always at my side when things went wrong. Sometimes—rarely—she did things that caught me off guard. A subtle smile. A soft tone meant only for me. Moments where she seemed… almost adorable.
Yeah.
I had a crush on her.
Probably more than a little.
"But… I don't know how she feels," I continued quietly.
Alisia always wore that calm, cold mask. Perfect posture. Perfect control. No one ever really knew what she was thinking.
Maybe she saw me as a convenient partner.
Maybe as an ally.
Maybe nothing more.
I shook my head.
"Enough," I muttered. "Don't start fantasizing."
This wasn't the time.
The real problem still loomed.
Even if I gave everything I had—even if I pushed myself to the limit—I still wasn't sure I could defeat her.
And that scared me more than any enemy.
She hadn't even revealed ten percent of her power yet. I could feel it. Sense it. She was holding back. Always holding back.
And yet she had walked into the finals as if it were inevitable.
A true daughter of an SS-ranker, I thought grimly.
Even with my Growth Acceleration—even with all my advantages—she surpassed me in sheer talent.
Sometimes… she felt older than she should be. Smarter. Like she knew things no one her age had any right to know.
"…Is she a transmigrator like me?" I murmured.
I scoffed almost immediately.
"No. That's impossible."
If she were, she wouldn't act like her. She wouldn't be this… refined.
Then again—
I froze.
"…Why am I even comparing myself to her?" I muttered.
I straightened slightly, exhaling.
"Focus, Alden. The question is simple. How are you going to fight her?"
The leaves rustled.
Footsteps approached.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"Alden," a calm voice said.
I looked up.
Alisia stood a few steps away, hands folded neatly before her, violet eyes observing me with quiet attention. Her expression was as composed as ever—but there was something softer beneath it.
"You ran away," she said gently.
"I prefer the term strategic retreat," I replied.
She walked closer and sat beside me on the bench, leaving a respectful distance between us. The scent of fresh mana and faint flowers drifted toward me.
"You were troubled," she said. "I could tell."
I hesitated.
Then laughed weakly. "Am I that obvious?"
"To me?" she asked. "Yes."
Silence settled between us.
Finally, I spoke.
"I don't know how to fight you."
Her eyes flickered.
"Explain."
"I'm not afraid of your power," I said honestly. "That's not it. The problem is… I don't think I can bring myself to hurt you."
She turned fully toward me now.
"…Why?" she asked softly.
I swallowed.
"Because every time I think about it, my hand hesitates," I admitted. "And if I hesitate, I'll lose. If I lose without giving my all… I'll disappoint you."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"You care about disappointing me?"
"…Yeah."
She studied my face for a long moment.
Then—
She smiled.
Not the dangerous one.
Not the sharp one.
A soft smile.
"Alden," she said quietly, "if you held back against me… that would disappoint me."
I blinked. "What?"
She leaned a little closer, voice firm despite its gentleness.
"I don't want mercy. I don't want restraint. I want you—at your best."
She met my eyes directly.
"If you cannot draw your sword against me, then you do not respect me as an opponent."
That hit harder than any strike.
"I—"
She raised a finger, stopping me.
"So," she continued calmly, "I propose a condition."
"…A condition?"
She nodded once.
"A vow."
Her lips curved faintly.
"The winner of the final match may demand one wish from the other."
My heart skipped.
"A wish…?" I repeated.
"Yes," she said. "No refusal. No excuses."
The garden felt suddenly smaller.
"And if I win," she added softly, "you will fight me without hesitation."
I stared at her.
Then—slowly—I smiled.
"…Alright," I said. "Deal."
Her eyes brightened—just a little.
Then—
"Alden!"
The moment shattered.
Edwin's voice rang through the garden as he burst into view, Sarah following close behind.
"There you are!" Edwin said loudly. "We've been looking everywhere—oh."
He stopped, staring at the distance between us.
"…Did we interrupt something?"
Sarah tilted her head, eyes sparkling. "You two look very close."
Alisia leaned back slightly, her expression instantly composed once more.
"…You arrived at an inconvenient moment," she said calmly.
Edwin grinned. "So I did interrupt something."
I groaned, rubbing my face.
"Please leave," I muttered.
"Nope," Edwin said cheerfully. "Finalists' meeting. Also, I brought snacks."
Sarah smiled warmly. "You look calmer now, Alden."
"…Yeah," I admitted.
I glanced at Alisia.
She met my gaze—and for just a moment, her calm mask slipped.
And I felt it.
Whatever awaited us in the final—
I would not hold back.
Not anymore.