Jade

  The arena pulses with energy as the crowd roars, the air thick with anticipation. The sun beats down on the combatants, making the dust and sweat of the fighters shimmer in the heat. My heart is still hammering from my own match, but there's no time to rest. Two more competitors are about to take the stage, and this time, the atmosphere is charged with something different.

  I stand beside Thornton near the railing, watching as the announcer calls the names of the next fighters. He steps forward, his voice booming, announcing Aszhuak from Belfour City. I straighten up at the name, remembering him as one of the Chonk Clan's representatives. His heritage is noble, his lineage respected—but more than that, he's a fighter in his own right.

  Thornton leans over, whispering, "I've heard he's more than just noble blood. Chonk Clan's fighters are supposed to be impressive."

  I nod, focusing on the entrance. Aszhuak strides into the arena with confidence, his broad shoulders squared and his presence filling the space. His armor gleams in the sunlight, the intricate designs signifying his noble status, but it's the way he moves that speaks volumes. He's not here for honor alone—he's here to prove himself.

  His opponent, a muscular fighter from a smaller clan, stands ready at the opposite end. Aszhuak doesn't waste any time.

  The gong sounds.

  Without a word, Aszhuak surges forward, his movements swift and controlled, a stark contrast to his opponent's more brute force approach. He dodges the first swing effortlessly, his body flowing like water as he closes the gap. The opponent swings wildly again, but Aszhuak sidesteps with ease, striking with precision. His blade flicks out in a flash, leaving the opponent stumbling back, a cut along his side.

  The crowd murmurs, impressed by his quickness, but the opponent isn't down yet. He charges again, desperate to land a hit, but Aszhuak doesn't flinch. Instead, he braces, ducking under a wild swing, and in a seamless motion, delivers a swift blow to the fighter's ribs, sending him to the ground in a heap.

  Aszhuak stands over him, his sword lowered in a graceful arc. The referee steps forward, declaring the match over. Aszhuak doesn't even break a sweat, his face stoic, but there's a quiet confidence in the way he surveys the fallen opponent.

  "Impressive," Thornton says under his breath. "He's as good as they say."

  I can't help but nod. There's no doubting Aszhuak's skill. He doesn't just fight with his strength—he fights with precision, with the calm focus of someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

  The crowd roars in approval, but it's not the cheers that capture my attention. It's the figure that steps down from the stands.

  Haley.

  She walks with purpose, a slight scowl on her face, though there's a flicker of something else in her eyes.

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  "You should've seen her earlier," Thornton says quietly, watching Haley approach. "She did great in the showcase."

  I glance over at him, a little confused. "I thought you two watched together?"

  Thornton nods, his eyes still on Haley. "We did. I thought she showed a lot of promise. It was... impressive. You could tell she had a lot of fire."

  Before I can respond, the announcer calls out the next fighter.

  "Next up," the voice booms across the arena, "Hue, son of the King!"

  The crowd erupts into applause.

  Haley tenses beside me, her lips pressing into a thin line as her brother steps forward. Hue's demeanor is calm, even a little detached, as he enters the arena. His expression remains unreadable, but his posture, tall and dignified, exudes a quiet strength. The King's blood runs thick in his veins, but Hue doesn't flaunt it the way some might. He fights for himself.

  I catch a glimpse of Haley watching him from the corner of my eye. There's a mix of pride and something else in her gaze. It's clear that she cares about her brother deeply, but there's a restraint there too—a tension that speaks volumes.

  "I bet he'll put on a show," Thornton murmurs, turning his attention to the match.

  Hue's opponent, a fighter from a distant land, stands opposite him. The man's stature is impressive, but Hue remains unfazed. As the gong sounds, he moves—slowly, deliberately, his every step calculated.

  His opponent rushes in, hoping to overwhelm Hue with brute force, but Hue is ready. He sidesteps with fluidity, his movements almost lazy in comparison to the man's frantic attacks. A strike comes at Hue's head, but he ducks under it and counters with a swift jab to the man's ribs.

  The crowd's cheer fades as Hue continues to dodge and retaliate with minimal effort, his strikes precise and calculated. Every move is like a whisper, and his opponent begins to falter under the weight of Hue's quiet dominance.

  A final strike, a calculated blow to the chest, sends the opponent sprawling to the ground. Hue stands tall, his face calm, his victory earned without a single wasted motion. The referee steps forward to declare him the winner, but Hue doesn't even raise his hands in triumph. Instead, he simply nods, his eyes scanning the crowd before he walks off the field.

  "Not bad," I mutter, watching the display. "The King's blood is certainly in him."

  "He doesn't let it define him though," Thornton says with a nod. "That's what makes him dangerous."

  Haley's expression is unreadable as her brother exits the arena. "He's good," she says softly, her voice tight. "But they won't let me do what he does."

  I blink in surprise. "What do you mean?"

  "I'd much rather be out there," she says, her voice lowering. "I want to participate in a combat trial. But they won't let me."

  Thornton and I exchange a glance. It's not a conversation I expected, but there's a quiet honesty in Haley's voice that makes me realize how much she yearns to prove herself.

  "It's not fair," she continues, looking out at the arena where Hue is already being congratulated. "I can do what they do. I know I can."

  "I'm sure you could," I reply. "But some things take time. And from what I saw earlier, you've got the skills."

  "Skills don't always matter when you're not allowed to compete," she mutters, a flicker of frustration in her eyes.

  I open my mouth to say something else, but the sound of the crowd grows louder. The announcer's voice fills the air once again, signaling the end of the match. But I can't stop thinking about Haley's words. There's something there, a quiet defiance that reminds me of...well, of me, in a way.

  Thornton's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You think she'll ever get her chance?"

  I glance at Haley. She's standing there, her arms crossed, watching the fights as if she's already won them.

  "I hope so," I say quietly. "I really do."

  The day continues with more matches, but my mind keeps drifting back to the conversation I just had with Haley. There's more to her than meets the eye—more than she's willing to show. And I get the feeling that if anyone ever lets her fight, we might just see something amazing.