After the battle was over with the clean bell sounds everyone was watching holding their breaths for last second to see who really won
As the steam slowly fades with the light the ruined battlefield slowly start the show the aftermath of the fight between the two
As both of them laughed at eachother taking this fight way to far forgetting the exam completely maybe it was only ego battle between the two
Both was having to much fun despite that both are barely standing alive and tried to kill eachother and still no one can tell how kuch joy and close they feel
Master rien" you know kanami im more that impressed by what you showed me today,i didn't had such great fights between me and someone younger than me" he stopped and sighe" sorry for not being responsible kanamai".
The silence lasted three heartbeats.
Then the colosseum broke.
It started as a murmur in the upper stands and rolled down the rows until the whole place was talking at once. Nobody could look away from the two figures in the middle of the ruined stone, red armor on both, standing in the thinning fog like something out of an old story.
"A draw? Against Master Rien?"
"Who is that kid? I've never seen him in the city."
"Did you see that weapon? That wasn't a normal trigger. Maybe he's the new hero everyone keeps whispering about."
"Or a spy," someone muttered, low and bitter. "Nobody fights like that by accident. Somebody trained him to kill."
"Look at his eyes. That's not an examinee. That's someone who's carrying something."
Kanami heard all of it. He kept his head down and his breathing steady, hands still shaking from the last punch. He had expected to feel proud, and instead the words sat on his shoulders like cold stones. They don't know me, and they already have a story for me.
Then the clapping began. A few hands at first, uncertain, then more, until the sound rolled across the arena like rain on old stone. It wasn't polite applause. It was the kind people give when they've seen something they didn't expect to see.
"Master Rien, you should have gone easy on him!"
"We know you let it happen, Master!"
Rien only laughed and waved a tired hand at them, one arm still pressed against his ribs. He didn't deny it. He didn't confirm it either.
And through all that noise, one voice cut cleanly across the stands.
"KANAMI! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!"
Kanami's head snapped up
At the edge of the railing, half-hanging over it, was a boy with messy yellow hair, waving both arms like he was trying to take off. Lux was grinning so wide it looked painful, and his eyes were wet. He didn't care about hero or spy or draw. He had seen a boy who sat alone by the wall, and now he was watching that same boy stand in the center of a colosseum.
Something loosened in Kanami's chest, the same small thing from the hall. He raised his hand slowly, the way you do when you've forgotten how.
Lux screamed louder.
Then the doors at the end of the tunnel slammed open, and the guild medics rushed in with stretchers and sharp voices.
"That's enough! The exam is suspended!"
"Master Rien, you went too far! He's a first-time examinee, not a trainee for your arena!"
"Look at the state of that boy. What were you thinking?"
Rien lifted both hands in surrender, his tired smile never leaving. "I know, I know. Go easy on an old man." He glanced at Kanami, and the smile softened for a second. "Worth it."
They took them both out together, side by side, boots dragging over the scarred stone. The applause followed them down the tunnel until the sound of it faded into the cold dark.
The last thing Kanami saw before the door closed was a yellow-haired boy still waving.
The room was simple. White walls, two beds, one window.
Through the glass, the shrine sat quiet against a darkening sky, and small flowers on its roof bent and swayed in the wind. Beneath it, the village of Knightcrave went on living, smoke rising from chimneys, tiny figures moving through the streets, all of it held inside the old black walls like something precious. None of it knew how close it had come to a different afternoon.
Rien lay on the warm white bed, staring at the ceiling.
His body was the easy part. A few broken bones, a split lip, bruises that would turn ugly by morning. He was a master, after all, and years of hunts had taught his body how to take punishment. The medics had wrapped him, scolded him, and gone to fetch more help.
Across the room, Kanami had not been so lucky.
The boy's breathing was uneven, each breath catching halfway like it had snagged on something. Blood had soaked through the bandages on his shoulder and thigh, and his fingers twitched against the sheet. He had burned through too much of his element, far more than any body his age should hold. And he had done it wearing armor that was never meant to stop what the two of them had been throwing at each other.
The medics were still on their way. The guild had prepared for scrapes and sprained wrists, not for this. Nobody had expected an exam to end like this.
Nobody but me. Rien's jaw tightened. I should have.
He turned his head and looked at Kanami for a long moment.
He had been the guide. That was the whole job, to test, to measure, to send them out the door a little better than they came in. But somewhere between the first punch and the fog, he had stopped being a teacher and become something else, a man chasing the thrill of being pushed. The heat of it had swallowed everything. He hadn't even noticed he'd stopped holding back.
What if I'm not the first?
The thought crept in slowly, then settled like a stone. The guild had been quietly losing hunters for years. Fewer examinees every season, empty benches in the hall, and everyone blaming the monsters. But what if some of them had walked into an arena, met someone like him, and never come back? What if the others had heard the stories and decided the exam wasn't worth the risk?
A boy bleeding in a white bed was more painful than any blade he'd ever taken to the chest.
Rien lifted his right hand and stared at it. The fingers curled on their own, searching for a hilt that wasn't there. The blade he had carried for twenty years was scattered across the arena floor in pieces, and he realized he didn't miss it.
That frightened him more than anything.
He clenched his fist until the bandage creaked.
"I nearly killed a boy who could become a better hunter than I'll ever be," he said quietly, to no one. His voice cracked on the last word. "Do still deserve to hold a sword again."
The window light dimmed. Outside, the wind kept moving through the flowers on the shrine's roof, gentle and unbothered.
A light knock sounded at the door.
"Shall I come in?"
Rien turned his head slowly. "You can come in. We have someone bleeding."
The door opened.
A man in his forties stepped inside, tall and severe, with white hair pulled neatly back and thin classic glasses resting on his nose. He wore a long black jacket of fine leather and black gloves, and one hand held a pocket watch, its chain swaying with each step. He didn't hurry. The room seemed to quiet around him.
"Rien, boy," he said. "I heard you were quite excited about the new hunters joining us." His eyes moved to the bed across the room, to the blood soaked through the bandages. "But I never expected you to hurt a child. That was irresponsible. That is all I can say."
Rien lowered his gaze. His voice came out heavy with guilt.
"I'm sorry, Grand Orion. I was irresponsible." He swallowed. "Please, help the young hunter first."
Orion said nothing. He crossed the room, set the pocket watch against his chest, and reached out a gloved hand toward Kanami's unconscious body.
Kanami's guard had not dropped.
From nowhere, the boy's body rose, eyes shut, limbs moving without a will behind them. The black weapon formed in his hands, darker than dark, swallowing the light in the room until the white walls turned grey.
A thin, sharp whistle cut the air.
The blade moved toward Orion's throat, reaching for anything it could cut.
Rien lunged for his sword. His hand closed on empty air. The blade was in pieces on the arena floor, and he was too slow and too far. There wasn't enough time.
Orion didn't move.
He raised two gloved fingers and pinched the edge of the black blade, gently, almost bored, as if stopping it were nothing. The whistling died. The darkness thinned and drained out of the weapon, and Kanami's body collapsed back onto the bed, unconscious again.
Orion studied the boy for a long moment. His gaze lingered on the black residue clinging to his glove.
"Interesting," he said quietly. "Now I understand why you were so excited, Rien, boy. It won't be a waste of time to take care of him."
He laid his palm over Kanami's chest, and warm light spread beneath the glove. The bleeding slowed.
"Make sure you don't push him too far next time," Orion said, without looking up. "I can heal flesh. I can grow back what's lost. But I can't bring back someone who has already lost their humanity and become one with the curse." His voice hardened. "And you know very well how much I hate half-monster creatures."
Rien kept silent.
He turned toward the window, where the sky had gone cloudy and grey, and rain had begun to fall over the village below, soft and steady against the beautiful view.