The scent of brine and waterlogged timber was the first thing to hit them as they stepped onto the deck.

  Mirai stood at the railing with her hands resting on the cold wood, watching the harbor draw closer. It was unlike any port she had set foot in before. Instead of the usual wooden planks, the docks were paved with polished grey stone. Behind them, buildings rose with sharply sloping roofs tiled in a deep blue that shimmered under the morning light.

  Hikari stepped up beside her. His arm nearly brushed hers as he took in the view for a moment, then let out a soft breath.

  "The Kingdom of Bellatoria," he said quietly. "At last."

  Mirai nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The air here felt different. It was crisper and carried a flavor she could not quite place. Perhaps it was spices drifting from the nearby market, or thin trails of smoke from the chimneys, or something else entirely that she had no name for.

  The ship docked smoothly. Heavy ropes were cast, tied, and pulled taut. Sailors shouted to one another in rough voices before the wooden gangplank was lowered, striking the stone pier with a hollow thud.

  Passengers streamed toward the exit. Mirai waited for the crowd to thin before she moved.

  They descended to the dock. Solid ground felt strange beneath her boots after days of swaying over the waves. She paused to regain her equilibrium, then walked on.

  The harbor was a hive of activity. Vendors shouted the prices of their wares while porters dragged carts laden with heavy wooden crates. Sailors sat on barrels, smoking and chatting in a dialect Mirai couldn't understand.

  She passed a stall where the smell of dried fish was overpowering, then another with ropes and nets hanging in bundles. A third held pungent spices that stung her nose.

  She kept walking. Hikari walked beside her in silence.

  Minutes later, they emerged from the harbor into a wider square where carriages were lined up in rows. Drivers sat on their perches. Some were sleeping, while others waved at travelers.

  "Where are you two headed?" one shouted. It was a thin man with a short beard.

  Hikari stepped forward. "The nearest major city."

  "Ryuzan," the driver said. "Six hours by carriage. Twenty silver coins per person."

  Hikari produced the coins and placed them in the driver’s palm. The man counted them, then jerked his chin toward the carriage.

  They climbed into the simple interior. Two wooden benches covered in thin, worn fabric faced each other beneath small windows. It smelled of old wood. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better than walking.

  Mirai sat by the window, resting her arm on the rough sill. Hikari sat opposite her.

  The driver whistled. With a jolt, the carriage lurched forward and eventually settled into a steady rhythm as the harbor began to recede behind them.

  ***

  For a long time, neither of them spoke.

  Mirai watched the landscape roll by. Green fields stretched out on both sides, dotted by strange trees with long, slender leaves. Mountains loomed on the distant horizon.

  The carriage rattled, and the wood groaned with every pothole in the road. The sun felt warm on her face through the glass. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.

  "I need to condition my body. Badly," Mirai murmured, staring out the window.

  Hikari nodded. "I expected you to say that. You've trained your spirit, but your body has been dormant for a while."

  Mirai tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Last week, I felt a significant shift. I don't know how to describe it exactly, but when I used my spiritual energy at its peak, my body felt lighter. It was a distinct difference."

  "Spiritual training reinforces the physical vessel," Hikari explained. "As your spirit strengthens, your body strengthens with it. Think of it as a natural enhancement."

  Mirai closed her eyes and leaned her head against the carriage wall. "Well, we have hours before we arrive. I'll focus on my energy until we get there."

  ***

  Time passed quietly. The sun arched across the sky, shifting the shadows on the ground. The carriage rolled on, wheels turning as the horse trudged forward.

  Hikari remained silent. Mirai sat still, but inside, her energy was in motion.

  Hours later, the carriage slowed. Mirai opened her eyes and looked out.

  Ryuzan.

  It was bigger than she had expected. It had wide streets paved with stone and buildings of two or three stories made of grey stone and dark timber. People were everywhere, walking, talking, and carrying goods.

  The carriage halted at a central square.

  "We're here," the driver announced.

  They stepped out into an expansive square. In the center stood a large stone fountain surrounded by stalls selling fruit, fabrics, and tools. The air smelled of fresh bread.

  Mirai stood for a moment, taking it in. Hikari stood beside her with his hands in his pockets.

  "Let’s find an inn," he said.

  They walked through the streets. The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Lights began to flicker on in windows.

  They passed several shops. A tailor stood by his window. A blacksmith doused his forge. A small café smelled of roasted coffee.

  They found an inn on a side street and went inside. It was warm. Oil lamps glowed on the walls. There were only a few patrons, including an old man eating, a couple talking, and three men drinking.

  Behind the main counter stood a woman in her forties. Her hair was tied back, and she wore a simple dress and a stained apron. She was wiping a glass.

  "Evening," the woman said. "Room?"

  "Two rooms, if possible," Hikari replied.

  The woman checked a ledger. "Two adjoining rooms on the second floor. Four silver coins a night."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "We'll take them for three nights."

  "Twenty-four silver."

  Hikari paid. The woman handed them two brass keys. "Stairs are to the right. If you want dinner, the kitchen closes in an hour."

  They climbed the stairs, the wood creaking under their boots. The hallway was narrow and dimly lit. They found their rooms at the end where two doors stood side by side.

  Mirai unlocked hers. It was small and clean. There was a bed with white sheets, a small table with a pitcher of water, and a wooden wardrobe in the corner. A window overlooked the back alley.

  "Coming down for dinner?" Hikari asked from the hall.

  "No," Mirai said. "I'm going to rest."

  "Alright. Goodnight."

  "You too."

  Hikari entered his room. She heard his door click shut.

  Mirai stepped inside and closed her door. She sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was firm, and the sheets were cool. She lay back and closed her eyes.

  Sounds from the first floor drifted up faintly. She heard the clatter of plates, the scrape of chairs, and a distant laugh. Then came footsteps on the stairs, followed by a door opening and closing. Silence followed.

  She began to focus.

  The spiritual energy inside her was a flow in her chest, a slow pulse moving with every breath. She began to guide it, gathering it, and cycling it through her body.

  The rhythm was slow and continuous.

  Time passed. The sounds below faded. The darkness deepened. The air grew colder. Then, exhaustion settled in. It was a good kind of tired that made her muscles feel heavy.

  She opened her eyes slightly. The ceiling was lost in shadow. She closed them again, and sleep took her.

  ***

  Mirai woke with the morning light.

  No sound had roused her. Her body simply decided it was time.

  She sat up on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through her hair, and stood.

  She went to the table. The pitcher was full of cold water. She poured some into a cup and splashed her face. The cold water jolted her awake. She wiped her face and left the room.

  Hikari was waiting in the hallway. He was leaning against the wall by his door, arms crossed.

  "Morning," he said.

  "Morning," Mirai replied.

  They went downstairs. The first floor smelled of baking bread. There were few customers. The landlady moved between the tables.

  They sat by the window. The woman brought them two plates with fresh bread, cheese, olives, and two apples. She also brought two cups of water.

  "Good breakfast," the woman said. "If you need anything, let me know."

  "Thanks," Hikari said.

  They ate in silence. The bread was soft on the inside and crusty on the outside. The cheese was fresh and slightly salty.

  After breakfast, they stood up. Hikari grinned. "Let’s explore."

  Mirai nodded, and they headed out into the streets.

  The morning was clean and bright. The sun wasn't harsh yet. The air was crisp and slightly cool. The streets were less crowded, but the city was waking up.

  They walked aimlessly. Mirai observed the buildings, the people, and the way they moved.

  Minutes later, Hikari noticed something. He stopped abruptly.

  "Look at that!" he said, a note of excitement in his voice.

  Mirai looked. He was pointing at a stone statue on the street corner. It depicted a man holding a long spear, raising it toward the sky. The statue was large and carved with intricate detail. Even the man’s expression was clear. His jaw was set hard, his eyes carved wide and fierce.

  "The design of the spear is incredibly precise," Hikari said, stepping closer to the statue. "Look closely at the way he grips it. This isn't just a generic statue. They clearly spent more time on the spear than anything else."

  Mirai studied it. The spear in the statue’s hand was long and slender. It was gripped in the right hand and held in a defensive stance.

  "Probably a local hero," she said quietly.

  "Yes, exactly!" Hikari’s eyes were shining. "Bellatoria is known for its duelists. There's probably a statue on every street."

  They walked on. A few blocks later, Hikari stopped again.

  "Check this out!" he said, pointing to a small shop.

  The shop was open. Inside, weapons hung on the walls. There were swords, spears, axes, and daggers. All were polished and gleaming. Behind the counter, an older man sat polishing a blade.

  "A weapon shop!" Hikari sounded like he was about to run inside. "Let’s go see them up close!"

  Mirai looked at him. He was like a child eyeing a new toy. She smiled faintly and followed him in.

  The man looked up, eyeing them with a sharp gaze before returning to his work.

  Hikari began inspecting the inventory immediately. He pulled a sword from the wall. It was long and heavy. He lifted it, checking the balance under the light.

  "Fine craftsmanship," Hikari muttered. "Balanced weight. Sharp edge. And this isn't ordinary steel."

  "If you want to buy, let me know," the man said without looking up.

  "No, no," Hikari said, returning the sword. "Just looking."

  He moved on, picking up a spear, then an axe, then a dagger, examining each one with intense care.

  Mirai stood by the door and watched him. She didn't speak, but for a moment, she snorted with suppressed laughter and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Hikari turned to her.

  "Sorry, sorry," Mirai said. "But you look like a kid in a candy store."

  Hikari chuckled, scratching his head. "Well, it's not every day I see blades made with this kind of skill."

  The shopkeeper smiled at Hikari’s words. "You have a good eye, young man. My shop is the most famous in the city. All the fighters in the Coliseum buy their arms and armor here."

  He added with confidence, "Even the Champion, Haru, bought his first spear right here."

  "Haru?" Hikari asked, hooking a thumb toward the door curiously. "You mean the guy from the statue on the corner? The one with the spear?"

  The man shook his head with a crooked smile and returned to wipe the blade with a cloth. "No, that's Ryuji. The former champion, a legend of the past generation."

  He paused, looking up at them with pride and seriousness. "Haru is the current champion. The Monster of the Coliseum. He's never been defeated in a duel. Ever. And like I said, his first weapon came from my hands."

  "Never been defeated..." Mirai murmured. Her eyes narrowed, sharpening with sudden focus. The boredom vanished from her face.

  "Sounds like we're in a city crawling with strong fighters," Hikari said, hands in his pockets, looking satisfied with their little tour. "Thanks for the look, sir. Your shop deserves the fame."

  "If you decide to enter the arena, come back," the man said, waving a hand without looking as he went back to work. "I'll give you a good price."

  They stepped out of the shop.

  The air outside seemed a little colder, or perhaps it was just Mirai’s blood heating up at the words *never been defeated*.

  "Current champion..." Mirai said as she walked, her gaze locked straight ahead as if seeking a challenge.

  "Boredom starting to fade?" Hikari asked with a knowing grin, noting the shift in her mood.

  "Maybe," Mirai replied evenly.

  They continued walking, passing several more streets. They passed other shops, including an armory, a leatherworker, and a fletcher. Hikari stopped at each one, inspecting and asking questions. Mirai followed silently.

  Then, after turning a corner, they reached a vast plaza.

  At the far end, Mirai saw it. A massive structure. It was circular. Heavy grey stone rose several stories high. A Coliseum.

  Mirai stopped.

  Above the main entrance hung a large banner of red cloth with black letters. It read: **Grand Dueling Tournament - 48th Annual Cycle. Registration Open Until End of Day.**

  Mirai stood staring. Her eyes were calm, but something stirred in her chest. She turned to Hikari quickly.

  "Look!" she said, her voice carrying something new. It was sudden enthusiasm.

  Hikari looked at the banner, then back at her. He smiled. "A combat tournament."

  "Yes!" Mirai’s eyes were gleaming now. "A real test. Real opponents."

  Hikari watched her. He saw the fire in her eyes. He noticed the way she stood with her body tense and ready.

  "You want to enter?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

  "Definitely," Mirai said, a small smile playing on her lips. "It'll be the perfect test for my progress."

  "Alright then," Hikari’s grin widened. "Let’s go."

  ***

  They entered the Coliseum. The hallway was wide and long, and the stone walls were cold and solid. The ceiling arched high above them, amplifying the sound of their footsteps.

  At the entrance sat a long table of dark, ancient wood.

  Behind it sat a man in his forties. He had sharp features, narrow eyes, and short hair. A thick ledger lay open before him, stacks of paper at his side.

  On the table, a sign read: **REGISTRATION**.

  Mirai approached. The man glanced up. He made a quick assessment of her face, her twin swords, and her eyes. It took three seconds. Then he nodded.

  "Name?" the man asked, his voice rough.

  "Mirai."

  He wrote in the ledger, his pen strokes fast and slanted. "Weapon?"

  "Swordswoman."

  He wrote again, then looked up. "Registration fee is ten gold coins."

  Mirai took out her pouch. She opened it and counted the coins. One, two, three... ten. She placed them on the table. The metallic clink was sharp in the quiet hall.

  The man took the coins, counted them, then pulled out a slip of paper. He stamped it with a red seal. The ink glistened, fresh and bright.

  "This is your number," he said, handing her the paper. "Don't lose it. Matches start in one week. Day one, morning. Be here before sunrise. The schedule will be posted then."

  Mirai took the paper. She looked at it to find a simple number: **47**.

  "Thank you," she said.

  She folded the paper and tucked it into her pocket. She turned, and Hikari walked beside her toward the exit.

  When they emerged, the sun had climbed higher. The square before them was livelier now with people moving, talking, and living.

  "One week," Hikari said, hands in his pockets.

  "Yes," Mirai said. Her voice was calm.

  "We'll extend the room," Hikari said. "Going to keep training?"

  "Absolutely."

  They walked back through the streets. The route to the inn felt shorter now because they were beginning to learn the way.

  Mirai was quiet. But inside, something was shifting. It was a feeling like preparation, or the tightening of a bowstring.

  In one week, she would know her true level. And that was all she wanted.