The golden afternoon light filtered heavily through the dojo windows, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air.

  Amidst that glow, Kairo Grims stared intently into his master's eyes. He held a wooden sword with both hands in a fighting stance, ready to attack. Sweat ran down his body, his breathing was rapid, and his muscles were tired with the burning sensation that a long training session leaves behind.

  “You still have a long way to go, Kairo,” said the master in a flat, almost emotionless voice as he dropped his arms, breaking his combat stance.

  “Pff, I know,” Kairo said, dropping to the floor with a long sigh.

  The dojo was completely silent for a few seconds, during which only the master's footsteps could be heard as he walked across the wooden floor. The master settled himself in the middle of the training hall, sat down, and placed his sword beside him.

  “Don't you think you should try harder?”

  “I don't want to anymore. You know that no matter how much I train, I don't improve at all.”

  The master already knew this; he had been training Kairo for the last few years, seeing the effort and dedication he put in, and yet he still wasn't improving much. ‘Has he reached his limit, or am I not a good teacher?’ These were the kinds of questions that went through his mind all the time.

  “Even if the storm pushes you back with its strong winds and you feel like every step is tiny,” said the teacher in his deep voice, “it doesn't mean you're not moving forward, Kairo.”

  Kairo shrugged, the despair evident in his expression.

  “I'm not going to participate in the tournament,” said Kairo.

  “Kairo! Enough. You have to participate. There's much more at stake than your personal frustration.”

  “What for?” Kairo let out a dry laugh. “So William Grims has one more excuse to humiliate me in front of the other houses. No, thank you.”

  Silence spread between them like a barrier. They looked each other in the eyes without saying a word.

  Kairo lowered his head after realizing that he had raised his voice to his master. This man who dedicated himself every day to training him and always gave him the little push he needed.

  “I'm sorry, master. I'm not a good student,” Kairo said with a trembling voice, and without realizing it, tears began to roll down his face.

  Kairo wanted to do more, he wanted to make his teacher proud of him and make all his efforts worthwhile. He wanted his father to accept him and his mother to get ahead, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't achieve anything.

  Kairo had been sacrificing himself to help the people he loved most, but seeing that he was unable to give them what they deserved made him lose hope.

  Although the tournament was the only way out of this hole, he felt powerless knowing he wouldn't win. Still, he had to try.

  “It's frustrating,” Kairo said.

  “But you're right, I can't just back down now. Win or lose, this tournament is inevitable.” Kairo wiped away his tears as he comforted himself.

  This tournament was important for Kairo's future and a big step toward his dreams. The Three Moons Tournament is presented as the only way to leave Mirea.

  Mirea is a city surrounded by the Armored Dragon Mountains and a forest so dense and dangerous that few people dare to pass through it. The amount of mana residue is so great that it makes the forest the perfect place for monsters to live.

  On the opposite side of the mountains is the ocean, a sea so vast that it seems endless. Due to this geographical position, Mirea is an isolated city, cut off from the rest of the world.

  The only way to leave Mirea is by boat, but the port is not large enough to hold more than three large ships, each of which can carry 50 people and a few tons of goods.

  As it is the only way to leave Mirea, boarding a ship is a luxury that only people from wealthy families can afford. A man who is the son of a concubine and has not been accepted as a legitimate son, like Kairo, could never set foot on a ship.

  Unless he finishes in one of the top three places in the Three Moons Tournament.

  The master stood up slowly, leaving the wooden sword on the floor. He turned around, facing the smooth wall behind him.

  “Come with me, Kairo,” the master ordered with a calmness that contrasted with Kairo's agitation.

  Kairo followed him, confused. He had spent hundreds of hours in that dojo but had never seen more than the training room. Seeing the master walk toward a wall made him feel a tingle of nervousness; there was no door, no cracks, nothing to indicate an exit.

  “W-where are we going?” Kairo asked.

  “Just follow me, you'll see.”

  The master stopped in front of the back wall. What Kairo had always seen as a simple wall revealed its true purpose. There were no frames or handles, just an almost invisible line where the wood met the floor.

  The teacher pressed firmly on a specific spot, there was a click, and the section of the wall gave way inward, separating from the rest and releasing a sigh of trapped air. Then, he gently slid it aside. As if by magic, the wall disappeared to reveal the interior of a hidden room.

  “Well, come in,” invited the master, who disappeared into the darkness of the room.

  Once Kairo set foot inside the room, lights came on to reveal everything that the darkness had hidden.

  The room was spacious but lacked furniture; any decoration would have been a hindrance to what covered the walls. Hundreds of swords rested suspended on dark wooden supports, stretching from floor to ceiling. There were curved blades, heavy broadswords, needle-thin rapiers, and weapons of styles Kairo didn't even know. The steel of the blades reflected the light, creating a constellation of silver reflections.

  “This... is incredible” Kairo managed to say in a voice of pure amazement.

  “I know. It's my personal collection; more than a hundred blades,” said the master. There was something different about him, a clear pride in his voice and an unusual warmth.

  Suddenly, the master turned to Kairo. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier. His face tensed into an expression Kairo had never seen before. It was one of absolute seriousness, which made Kairo's hair stand on end.

  “Now, answer me, Kairo,” the master asked in a flat, intimidating voice.

  “Why and for whom do you fight...”

  Kairo Grims’s Pov

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Why do I fight? Why does a man fight? For whom?

  These are questions I have never asked myself. I have always moved forward, following my impulses toward an imaginary goal, but the truth is that I don't see clearly what I really want, but I know what I must do. My heart knows what to do, but my mind remains lost in a dense fog.

  What answer should I give to someone who questions my motives? Or rather, why should I tell them? He is my teacher, and I respect him, but this has nothing to do with training.

  Is it because he saw me crying earlier and now wants to know about my personal life? The problem is that I don't even know the answer myself; those tears came from something inside me that I still don't dare to bring to light.

  “What do you mean, teacher?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.

  “As I said, why and for whom do you fight?”

  “I don't have an answer...” I admitted, lowering my gaze to the wooden floor.

  “The truth is, I don't know.”

  Why does he look like that? Did he really expect me to have an answer ready? He seems disappointed, and his gaze chills my blood.

  Maybe... if I think a little more, I can give him the answer he's looking for. The first thing that comes to mind when I think about my goal is the ship. Being able to board one of those and travel to the central continent is my greatest desire, but... why is that my greatest desire?

  Behind every desire there is a reason, and you cannot fulfill a desire if you ignore its origin. That's why I can't consider boarding the ship my goal; a goal is an end point where everything fits together, leaving nothing behind. Rather, getting on the ship and traveling to the central continent would be like a starting point.

  “I can't believe you've been coming to my dojo day after day, without rest, without a clear motivation or goal,” said the teacher. His eyes scanned me with a doubt that bordered on suspicion.

  “Well... maybe I do have a motivation,” I replied, feeling the teacher's doubt grow stronger and stronger. “I just don't know how to explain it right now.”

  The master was silent for a moment, evaluating my response. Then he pointed to the steel-laden walls.

  “How about you look at the swords while you think?”

  “Sounds good,” I replied.

  I began to move slowly around the room, my eyes darting from one sword to another. The glint of their blades seemed to follow me as if they were watching me. As I moved forward, I noticed something that even a novice like me could perceive. Almost all of them were one-handed swords, light and functional. But when I reached the back wall, the pattern broke completely.

  There, isolated from the rest of the collection, lay three swords that did not follow any rules. It was not only their solitude that made them stand out, but their rarity. Immediately, my attention focused solely on that wall, ignoring the rest of the room as if it had ceased to exist.

  On the left, I saw a medium-length sword with a flat blade. What made it special was its hilt. Golden engravings imitated flames of fire that spread elegantly to the beginning of the metal. It looked like a weapon born of hatred.

  On the right, something more imposing rested. It was long, similar to a katana, but had a much less sophisticated blade. The spine of the sword, the non-sharp part, was twice the volume of the sharp area, giving it a heavy and brutal appearance that made it look unique. Its design was conservative, but I still found it surprising.

  Could my master know how to use all these weapons? They seem to belong to such different styles that I doubt even he could master them all. In Mirea, we follow the Dragon style, brought by the first settlers who descended from the Armored Dragon Mountains. It is said that four warriors came down from the summit, cleared the area of dangers, and traced the perimeters where our city stands today.

  They taught the Dragon style to new generations, but time and necessity changed everything. Humans adapt depending on our surroundings. Here, the forests and terrain are infested with monsters that will attack you from behind as soon as you turn your back. The ground is full of potholes, uneven hills, and sharp rocks. Meanwhile, the trees have mutated to reach abnormal sizes. This forced us to develop our own style to avoid ambushes. The locals call it Ravine Style, referring to the fact that we live next to large mountains.

  Both styles share roots but have different purposes. The dragon style focuses on brute force counterattack and defense, inspired by the movements of red dragons. Ravine Style prioritizes reading the environment, agility, and anticipation.

  I have never seen a real duel between the two, but theory says that Ravine is superior on uneven terrain.

  “Kairo, you still don't have an answer?” My master's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to the reality of the room.

  “No,” I replied without hesitation.

  “We don't have all day. Haven't any of the swords caught your attention? I saw you staring at those three over there. What do you think of them?”

  “They're a bit strange, to be honest. I've never seen anything like them before. Where did you get them, master?”

  “Well... those are the weapons of the founders of this city.”

  I froze. Something as valuable as that was hidden here? Who would have thought?

  “Listen, Kairo,” the master continued in a slow, thoughtful voice.

  “When fighting, it is important to know the reason. Each person must carry a sword in their heart to guide them through life's paths. But that inner sword must know the right direction in order to connect with you.”

  The master pointed to the three weapons I was looking at and continued.

  “Do you see those three? Each one represents a feeling. The driving force behind each of the heroes.”

  What does he mean? I thought as the master began his explanation.

  According to him, the sword on the right represents hatred, chaos, and destruction. Its name is Eris. It is said that its bearer had such a delicate temperament that he destroyed anything that bothered him, no matter who it was. The reason why he acted this way is unknown, as his past is a mystery.

  The one on the left, Elpis, represents hope. Its bearer was a philosopher named Arthur Dredge; the city's libraries are full of his works, although the curious thing is that he never wrote about his companions or his adventures. They are figures shrouded in mystery.

  “And the last one...” said the professor.

  At that moment, I realized I had been ignoring the third one. The sword in the middle. When I laid eyes on it for the first time, I felt as if the world was shifting beneath my feet. A spring breeze began to blow out of nowhere, carrying flower petals that danced in front of me.

  "What is that one?" I asked, mesmerized.

  Its design was more aesthetic, a katana with a white handle engraved with roses and subtle pink details. Its blade was long; even from a distance, you could tell it was capable of cutting a leaf in half in mid-flight.

  "That is... Aphrodite," the master declared without giving any further details.

  "Aphrodite!?" I let out a cry before I could stop myself.

  That is the sword of Azael Dredge, the fallen angel! It is said that he’s the creator of our world, an angel with a god complex who defied a higher being, ended up facing the inevitable. Before his banishment, Azael separated the worlds to make them habitable. They say he still walks among us under a curse, known only as "The Lost Entity."

  "Relax, it's just a copy. Don't get excited," said the master with a laugh. "You really like these stories, huh?"

  Damn, I was getting my hopes up. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.

  Kairo...

  "Hey, did you say something, Master?" I asked, confused.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I don't know... I heard someone say my name."

  Kairo, look at me with those eyes again, please.

  Again? I felt a chill.

  "Teacher, you're not playing a joke on me, are you?"

  "No, I don't know what you're talking about."

  Kairo, look at me... look at me... look at me...

  The voice was so delicate and loving that my senses began to fade. Only that sound existed; it was all I needed. Please, keep talking. I begged in my mind.

  Kairo, I'm here, right in front of you.

  Where are you? I can't see you. Ah, yes... I see you now. I've got you. We're close. I've always wanted this moment. I was born for this. You and I are meant to be. Please don't stop, I can't live without hearing your voice... come on... come on...

  "Kairo, no!" My teacher's cry sounded as if it came from another universe.

  It was too late. I had moved without realizing it. Time slowed down, and I could see the silhouette of my teacher lunging toward me, his hand outstretched. Before the darkness claimed me, I understood my mistake. That feeling I had when I saw her for the first time wasn't admiration... It was a warning. Something was very wrong.

  My hand had closed tightly around the hilt of Aphrodite.