Malo’s eyes fluttered open.

  A low groan escaped him as he rubbed his sore jaw, his gaze drifting upward with a bewildered look at the changing sky.

  Why was he looking up at it again?

  Oh, that's right.

  “I lost,” he muttered.

  “Yep.”

  The voice made him stir. Malo pushed himself up.

  “Doing okay, little brother?” Jain asked.

  Malo cracked his neck a couple of times, glancing around until his eyes found Beric. The boy sat on the ground, hunched forward, staring into nothing with a dazed expression.

  Malo couldn’t help a small smile. “Beric got me good with that last kick.”

  Jain sighed and folded his arms. “Yeah, unlucky, huh? If you hadn’t slipped during that grab, you might’ve turned the whole match around.”

  “No. It wasn’t luck.” Malo said flatly.

  It hadn’t been luck when their mother had died. It had been his own weakness. It was his failure to go with her that day, and his failure afterward to truly move on. Even now, he wasn’t sure he ever could.

  But-

  “Beric entered this tournament with his own strength,” Malo continued. “He fought me with his own determination. He earned those summons and mastered swordsmanship with his own effort. And he defeated me because he endured everything up until now.”

  Malo smiled faintly at the thought.

  Strength isn’t everything. No matter how much power you think you hold, there are weights you can’t lift, pains you can’t bear, and people you cannot save.

  But what then? What can you do?

  “The rain made things messy. But it fell on him the same way it fell on me. And still, he kept fighting.”

  That was strength.

  The courage to face someone far beyond your reach.

  The humility to recognize your limits and focus on your own gifts.

  The grit to stumble and yet rise again.

  And maybe most important, the belief that even in defeat, your struggle mattered.

  Malo exhaled slowly. “I want to be strong like Beric.”

  Jain’s eyes widened.

  Then, his voice became soft. “That’s a hard goal, Malo.”

  “I know,” Malo admitted with a nod. “I can’t be him. But I want to be strong on my own terms. I want the same strength that carried him through."

  “The strength to keep fighting,” Jain murmured, finishing the thought. He placed a hand on Malo’s shoulder. “If you keep at it, I believe you’ll get there someday. And you know, really, it was a good fight, Malo.”

  Malo opened his mouth to respond, but the sudden roar of clapping from the crowd cut through their quiet moment, drawing both brothers’ attention.

  They turned toward the crowd. Loyal fans and casual spectators alike were on their feet, clapping with awe, whistling in praise, and cheering with genuine warmth. It wasn’t just noise, but rather it was comfort, gratitude for witnessing such a fight.

  Jain arched an eyebrow at his brother. “This is a first.”

  Malo stayed silent. He was used to hearing applause, but only because he won. Victory always brought cheers. But now, he had lost.

  So why were they still praising him?

  Jain clapped him lightly on the back. “When you’re locked into a match, it’s easy to forget everything else. All you see is your opponent and you only remember the need to win. That’s not wrong, but if you fight like that forever, you’ll forget there’s more going on. A whole crowd is watching, Malo. They’re not just hoping for a winner. They’re hoping for you.”

  You aren’t the only one fighting.

  Malo lowered his head. “But, they just want to see me win.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Jain nudged his shoulder, gently coaxing his gaze upward.

  Malo hesitated, then looked.

  The people clapping for him were countless, an endless wave of voices calling his name. Some wiped away tears, others shouted encouragement until their voices broke, and even those who stayed silent did so with a strange, embarrassed respect.

  Malo didn’t know what to say.

  For so long, he had thought their cheers were just for his strength. That if he ever lost, they would turn on him. Yet here they were, still looking at him with admiration in their eyes. And those who had doubted him, they stayed quiet.

  Why?

  Jain broke the silence. “You know, Malo, a fight says a lot on its own.”

  Malo frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “If a man flings wild punches in his last moments, the crowd sees desperation. If a man beats down his opponent even after the fight is clearly over, they see cruelty belonging to someone who lived mercilessly.”

  Jain’s tone softened as he leaned closer. “But as for you-” He grinned. “They didn’t see the unstoppable champion who could crush anyone with a single hit. They didn’t see the monster they once feared. What they saw was Malo Dione, a quiet, cool guy who just loves a good fight.”

  Malo kept staring at the crowd.

  Was that true? Had they really seen him for who he was?

  Maybe not. It was unlikely anyone could ever truly understand what he had gone through.

  But even so, it was enough.

  At least through this fight, by his own effort, the world finally saw Malo as more than the Battle Devil.

  And then another thought came to him.

  The looks of shyness, even embarrassment, from some faces in the crowd, those who had once kicked him when he was down. His opponents, the ones he had beaten, and even……..his childhood bullies.

  Could he ever forgive them?

  Probably not.

  But if they endured as he had……..if they kept fighting.........then maybe, one day, if they ever met again in the ring of life—

  Then Malo could have another good fight.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Ughhhhhhhh.

  You good?

  “No.”

  I groaned in annoyance at the severe soreness of my limbs.

  I take it your adrenaline’s finally worn off?

  “Yeah.”

  I sighed as I painfully laid back down.

  I looked up at the sky.

  No stars out since it was daytime.

  Though, I wonder if it was, if I’d be able to see it now.

  You know, Beric-

  “What’s up?”

  You’ve grown.

  “Uh, thanks?”

  I mean, you used to be impossible to talk to.

  “Alright-”

  Like, I don’t even know how you said all of that with a straight face. You sounded like straight out of an edgy fanfiction a middle schooler made.

  “Okay, I get it-”

  Honestly, do you not cringe when you think back about those times? How do you-

  “SHUT THE HELL UP!”

  Oh, my fault.

  ……….

  ……….

  “Heh.”

  Heh.

  The two of us let out a quiet snicker, before it evolved into a loud cackle that we both shared.

  Well, that’s still the same.

  I yawned.

  But Beric, really, you’ve grown.

  “Thanks, but I’m still the same as back then. I’ve made some progress, but things haven’t really changed.”

  It’ll come back again. I know it will.

  He will return.

  That’s fine. You have the best personal sys-

  “By the way, before you finish that statement, you didn’t even do anything in that entire fight.”

  Sys let out a dramatic gasp.

  He then tried to mess with my hair.

  I helped you a lot!

  “How?”

  I………uh-

  He scratched his head.

  “Uh huh.”

  Oh, hold on! I warned you of that hole before you fell into it!

  “Pause.”

  Yeah, massive pause- wait no, don’t change the subject.

  “I didn’t even change it.”

  Whatever, I helped you!

  “Eh, sure, I guess.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Sys took on a prideful face.

  Ah, whatever, I’ll give it to him.

  I’m tired anyway.

  I yawned again.

  Maybe I’ll take a quick little nap. I feel like I deserve it anyway, since-

  “BERIC!”

  Nevermind.

  I begrudgingly sat up just in time for Arthur to practically launch himself into my face, ruffling my hair like a storm and jamming a nasty wet willy into my ear.

  “You keep on surprising us, little bro!” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.

  I barely had time to groan before his expression froze. His face went pale, and then—thud!—he dropped like a sack of bricks.

  Standing over him was Elaine, her hand still in a sharp karate-chop pose.

  “He just finished a match,” she said flatly, brushing her hair back as though nothing happened. “Don’t go roughing him up.” She turned to me then. “You did well, little brother.”

  “Thanks, Elaine.”

  “Did you have fun, Beric?”

  I turned toward the voice.

  Mom was approaching, with Dad right at her side. She had been worried sick about me entering the tournament, worried enough that she almost didn’t let me come at all. But now, she didn’t look nervous in the slightest. Instead, there was something like relief in her eyes.

  “Yeah,” I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. “It was kind of fun.”

  “That’s good to hear.” She said with a warm smile. However, she then let out a long sigh. “To think that you could even beat Malo.”

  Dad gently rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve always known what he was capable of.”

  “I suppose,” she murmured. “But isn’t this even more than what we expected?”

  “That’s right!”

  Arthur shot up suddenly, cartoonishly energetic as if the karate chop hadn’t happened. He jabbed a finger at me, eyes wide. “What’s up with all those summons?! The giant bear, the moose, the pig, and the kolode?!”

  “Kobold,” Elaine corrected.

  “Kobold,” Arthur repeated, nodding seriously as though he’d known it all along.

  “I told him to keep it a secret.”

  We all turned as Elder Walden approached, Elder Liora and Elder Alric just behind him, with Cedric, Merilda, and Volk trailing a few steps farther back.

  “A secret?” Mom asked.

  Walden nodded. “Just as Beric avoids using recovery magic to heal himself fully, I wanted him to avoid leaning entirely on his summons. His strength can’t only come from what he calls forth. It must come from him. If he relied on them for every obstacle, his weapon skills, his mind, and his spirit would never sharpen. Summons can be sealed, torn away, or even turned against you. But the strength you forge in yourself?” He tapped his chest. “That can never be stolen.”

  Elder Alric crouched beside me, scanning the bruises across my ribs and shoulders. He let out a low whistle. “He got you good, huh?”

  I let out a troubled sigh. “He did.”

  Alric fished a small container from his pocket, popping it open to reveal a familiar ointment. He dabbed a little onto his fingers and applied it along my neck and chest. It wasn’t something that healed injuries directly, but it loosened my lungs and made each breath smoother, something he had done for me countless times after long training sessions.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  Alric grinned, standing back up. “What did I say?” He glanced toward Cedric and Merilda. “Not so bad, right?”

  Merilda folded her arms without replying.

  Cedric chuckled. “You were right. Beric may honestly be your best one yet.” He stepped forward, offering me a high five. I returned it, and he winked. “You’re going to be great someday.”

  Merilda finally huffed, narrowing her eyes. “I admit you’re more than just a brat.”

  Here she goes.

  She jabbed a finger at me. “That’s why, when it’s my turn to face you, I won’t hold back.”

  Silence fell.

  Mom blinked in confusion. “Wait, why does Merilda want to fight Beric?” Her worried look darted between us.

  “Yeah, what’s up with you, old lady?” Arthur chimed in.

  Merilda’s eyes flared. “Old lady—”

  But Cedric quickly stepped between them, hands raised. “Sorry, sorry. Master wanted the two of them to fight later, specifically after the tournament. He said this event would give Beric enough experience to at least stand against adventurers as notorious as Merilda.”

  Elaine tilted her head. “Notorious?”

  “Why did you say notorious?” Merilda snapped.

  Cedric looked at her with a flat expression and a lazy tilt of his head. “Velios’ tavern?”

  Merilda scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Tch. He had it coming.”

  Elder Liora stepped forward, and only then did I notice the two splintered sticks in her hands.

  “Did they serve you well?” she asked.

  “They did,” I answered.

  Her lips pursed. “And what about you? Did you serve them well?”

  Ah, she's going to be on my ass about that.

  The sticks had done their job, but maybe I hadn’t done mine as well as I could have. If I’d used them differently, or even channeled magic through them, perhaps I could’ve countered Malo more effectively.

  But, I still did well, didn’t I? I mean, I really did try my best, before I realized I could use body strengthening magic in that way-

  “I tried my best at the time,” I admitted, “but looking back, there was more I could have done.”

  She looked satisfied by that answer. “Good. The way of the sword never ends, just as the desire to fight has no end.”

  Before I could reflect further, Volk shouldered his way through the group, a wide grin plastered on his face and a drink in hand. “Beric, my guy, that was amazing!”

  I let out a small chuckle. “Thanks.”

  He thrust the cup at me. “Here, drink up! A reward for the winner!”

  I eyed it suspiciously.

  “Oh, it’s just fruit juice, don’t worry,” Volk assured quickly. “Like I’d give alcohol to a kid.”

  Elder Liora gave a polite cough into her hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Volk’s face turned red, redder than the flames in his forge. “That was an accident!”

  “Beric.”

  We all turned as Malo and Jain approached.

  “It was a good fight,” Malo said with a smile, extending his hand.

  I tried to stand, but my body still protested. Arthur and Elaine quickly helped me to my feet. “It was,” I replied, clasping his hand.

  As our hands locked, the sun broke through the clouds above, scattering the last of the rain and filling the arena with light.

  “You…...you—” Malo faltered, his voice catching.

  Words were failing Malo as he thought about what to say. He was thankful, but he was also disappointed at himself for losing. He was happy and exhilarated at such a match, but he was also saddened at how it had ended.

  And, he was anxious whether Beric would-

  “Malo.”

  He blinked. “Yes?”

  “It was fun.”

  His eyes softened, glistening as he tightened his grip. A small laugh escaped him. “Hah. Yes, it was.”

  We finally released hands just as Gabno’s booming voice announced that the next fighters would soon enter the arena. Malo and I, along with our families, began to make our way back toward the stands.

  But before I could leave, Malo’s voice rang out once more.

  “Beric!”

  I turned. “Yes?”

  He stood tall with a new fire burning in his eyes.

  “I’m going to become an adventurer as well!”

  Oh, that’s not what I expected.

  Even Jain looked shocked by that.

  “Really?” I called out.

  “I want to become stronger, strong enough to meet new people, new fighters, all around the world. I want to see how far I can go.”

  Malo didn’t know whether he would become a hero or anything special like that, but he knew that now, after this fight, this meeting, that he could no longer be satisfied with training just to fight.

  He wanted to use his strength to fight not just opponents in the ring, but to fight to meet new people and see just what else he was truly capable of.

  But, most importantly-

  “I know that you want to become an adventurer, so I’ll become one too. I’ll train myself while I explore the world, all so that one day, when we meet on our journeys, I’ll be strong enough to gain the right to challenge you once more.”

  I nodded.

  “And when that time comes,” Malo declared, smiling fiercely, “things won’t be the same.”

  “I see. But Malo?”

  He waited.

  “It’s not like we’re leaving right now.”

  “......?”

  “I mean, you’re going to stay and watch the rest of the tournament, right?”

  Malo nodded.

  “Well, so am I. So we’re still going to see each other. It’s not like this is some grand farewell.”

  ………..

  …………

  Malo’s face reddened. “I knew that! I just…....wanted you to know my goal!” He jabbed a finger at me dramatically.

  I smiled. “Okay then.”

  You hoed him for no reason.

  To think that I actually influenced someone enough to become an adventurer as well.

  Malo yelled once more. “But, after this, I’ll be waiting for our paths to cross once more! And after I win, we’ll both continue to fight and explore!”

  Ah, alright.

  I waved to him as I turned. “You got it.”

  With that, we turned away from each other, heading back to our seats as the tournament marched on. But I had the feeling this wasn’t just the end of a fight, as it was the beginning of something greater.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Now seated in the viewing stands, Malo felt strange.

  Now he was just an ordinary spectator.

  And yet, that feeling was oddly familiar.

  Malo glanced at his brother Jain, who sat beside him. The two waited quietly as the next fighters began to enter the arena.

  Despite the sting of defeat, Malo found his mind clearer after that fight with Beric. Clearer than it had been in years. He thought about his reignited love for fighting, the purpose of his matches, his life up until now, and—

  He inhaled carefully.

  Mother’s death.

  It was something neither he, Jain, nor their father ever spoke about. In truth, they hadn’t had anything close to a normal conversation in years.

  But deep down, Malo knew that was wrong. They had to stop running. They had to stand back up. To keep fighting, not just for their mother, but for themselves.

  “Brother,” Malo said suddenly.

  “Yes?” Jain answered.

  “Mo—” Malo froze.

  Should he really bring it up now? Should he open that wound? Maybe their life was “fine” the way it was. Maybe it was greedy to want more healing after everything. After the miracle of his fight with Beric, was he pushing too far?

  Wouldn’t it be easier to just leave it buried?

  ……...But Beric wouldn’t forfeit.

  Malo clenched his teeth, drew in a sharp breath and blurted out: “Your blueberry stew sucks.”

  The words slipped out before he even realized what he’d said. He blinked, stunned, as Jain’s expression twisted into a mix of shock and offense. Malo wondered how in the world his brain had translated “Mother’s death” into that.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Jain snapped. “You lost a fight and now you badmouth my cooking?”

  Even though Malo wasn’t that affected by his loss, something about the way Jain spoke ticked him off.

  “I wouldn’t have to if it was even halfway decent,” Malo shot back.

  “Oh? Really? Then why don’t you cook for yourself for once? Maybe those big tree-trunk arms of yours can finally smash blueberries into a paste worth eating.”

  “It’d probably taste better than yours,” Malo muttered.

  That was the opening blow.

  Jain’s eyebrow twitched. “You think you can cook better than me? You couldn’t even boil water without breaking a pot!”

  “At least I wouldn’t poison the house with your burnt stews!” Malo countered.

  “Burnt?!” Jain barked. “You dare call my meals burnt when you eat it every single time?”

  “That’s because Father forces me!” Malo fired back. “And he only does it because he’s too polite to tell you it tastes like dirt!”

  “Oh, that’s it—” Jain growled, lunging with a hand.

  Before Malo could dodge, Jain pinched his ear.

  It was the type of pinch your mom would do as she dragged you to a room for a special beating.

  Malo froze in shock. Jain froze too, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

  “……Pft.”

  And then, it broke.

  Jain burst into wild laughter, tears threatening to spill, his voice cracking as he bent over. Malo tried to hold it in, but a few chuckles escaped, and then the dam gave way. He laughed too, loud and rough, shaking with it.

  It was a fight in its own way. Not with fists, but with words. A stupid spar over something as meaningless as blueberry stew, and yet it felt like a real match. Blow for blow, jab for jab, ending with laughter instead of bruises.

  When the noise died down, both of them sat back, panting like fighters after a bout.

  “Hey, Jain?” Malo said softly.

  “Yeah, Malo?”

  “I miss Mother.”

  The words landed heavier than any punch.

  “……I do too,” Jain whispered.

  Without another word, Jain wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders as the next fighters stepped into the arena.

  Mother had lost her fight, and for a time, it seemed like they were close to losing theirs too. But they hadn’t. They were still here.

  They were still fighting.

  And it was now that they realized they didn’t have to fight alone.

  If life was going to be an unfair fight, then why wouldn’t they tag-team it?

  “Hey, Malo?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Does my blueberry stew really taste that bad?”

  'No, but it’s not as good as Mother’s.”

  “I see.”

  The two let silence hang for a bit.

  “Do you still remember the recipe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, if you’re fine with it, would you mind helping me make it for a bit? Just so I can get used to it?”

  Malo looked at Jain.

  “I'm fine with that.”

  The brothers shared a quiet smile as the next stage of the tournament began.

  Rather than cry their eyes out over the forgotten mourning of their mother, or to get to work quickly by training for the next rematch with Beric, or for even a break from it all, the brothers decided to sit and spectate the next round.

  Even if Malo’s fight was over, there were still people who had to fight.

  People, who just like Beric, and even Malo, have their own dreams and goals for being in this tournament.

  They were here to prove something, anything, all with their own strength.

  And as Malo waited, he thought of Mother.

  He wondered if she was doing fine.

  Was she in paradise? Was she watching over them? Did she worry when Malo had fallen to the ground?

  Was she disappointed in him for losing?

  Malo didn’t know.

  He didn’t know what happened when one lost the fight.

  But he had a feeling.

  He felt that, even if he blamed himself, his mother didn’t blame him.

  His mother wasn’t the type of person to do that.

  So, he wondered.

  How will he repent? How will he prove that her life meant something? How will he prove that he can be strong on his own terms?

  How can he prove that she was right?

  And that’s when it clicked.

  He didn’t have to do anything.

  Because he already did.

  And yet, Malo didn’t say anything. He stayed quiet as he watched the Arena. He breathed deeply as he began concentrating on the fighters, thinking about their reputation, of what they could do, of what he could do against them.

  But, why?

  What was the thing Malo needed to do?

  What clicked?

  What was it?

  Unfortunately, I can’t say as of right now. I wouldn't want to distract them, all of them for that matter.

  And you as well.

  Every fighter needs to realize what to do.

  Hopefully, you understand it now. With Malo's story, with Beric's answer, you understand what to do in this impossible fight.

  Maybe not at the same level, but no one's expecting that of you.

  We only expect your best.

  And while it is true, that things would be easier if I just told you, I can't do that.

  I'm not in the position to tell you what to do. I never was.

  I'm also not some referee.

  I'm just a fighter, like you and the rest.

  And we're all in the middle of a fight here.