Vale fixed the black-haired woman with a steady, confident gaze, though the dull ache in his shoulder still pulsed beneath his composure. Blood had slowed, his breathing had evened, and with a faint chuckle he inclined his head slightly, as though the two of them were meeting under far more civil circumstances.
"I don't believe we've been introduced," he said, his tone light despite the tension lingering in the air. "May I know your name?"
The woman regarded him in silence for a moment before lifting a hand to her lower chest, the exact place where his kick had landed earlier. Her fingers pressed lightly against the spot, testing it, and her eyes narrowed with a flicker of something between irritation and amusement. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her pale face, sharp and unrestrained.
"Nice… very nice," she murmured, almost to herself before her gaze snapped back to him. "Your attacks, they're not like the other boy's. You're not holding back." Her grin widened, teeth flashing. "You're actually trying to kill me, aren't you?"
Vale blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the accusation, and gave an awkward half-shrug. "Well… yeah," he admitted, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. "Isn't that the point of this test?"
For a heartbeat, she simply stared at him. Then she burst into laughter, loud, genuine, and completely unrestrained, the sound echoing through the arena and drawing glances from the spectators beyond the barrier.
"Ah, yes," she said at last, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she composed herself. "You'll do just fine." She straightened, rolling her shoulders before offering him a mock bow. "The name's Silfur. Pleasure to meet you, Vale."
He returned the gesture, though with far less flair. "The pleasure's mine."
It was a strange exchange, almost absurd given the circumstances, yet not entirely unexpected. Everyone here already knew his name, word traveled fast when one had arrived alongside Drago. That alone had earned Vale a certain reputation, one he wasn't entirely comfortable with. Many saw him as fortunate, chosen even, but Vale himself wasn't so sure. His journey through the Scorched Sands had been anything but lucky, and though Drago had undeniably saved his life, that didn't erase the trials that had brought him there.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the previous day, their arrival at the royal library, the quiet room he had been given, the rare moment of rest. And now, barely a day later, he found himself here, thrown into what was essentially a controlled death match against opponents who clearly outclassed him in experience.
That brief lapse in focus was all Silfur needed.
She moved quickly.
Her body surged forward with explosive precision, blade arcing downward in a diagonal strike aimed not to test, but to end his life. Vale's instincts screamed, dragging him back to the present just as the steel descended. He tracked her motion, every shift of muscle and weight, but something about it felt… off. Not unnatural, not forced, just subtly wrong, like a rhythm slightly out of sync.
At the last possible moment, he raised his right arm.
The blade struck with a sharp metallic ring.
Silfur's weapon collided against the steel of his arm, sparks flashing at the point of impact. The force drove him back a step, muscles straining as he absorbed the blow, but he held. For a brief moment, the two remained locked, her strength pressing down, his resistance holding firm.
She chuckled.
"Keep your mind on me, Vale," she said, her voice low but firm as she pulled her blade free in one fluid motion. "Your opponent decides whether you live or die. Lose focus, even for a second, and you're already dead."
Before he could respond, her hand flicked.
A dagger spun through the air.
Vale ducked instantly, the blade slicing past where his head had been a fraction of a second before. He rose again, bringing his weapon up in a guarded stance, but Silfur was already moving.
She leaned back, planting her hands against the ground with practiced ease. In one seamless motion, her body inverted, her legs snapping upward and wrapping around Vale's head with crushing precision. Before he could react, she shifted her weight and pulled.
The world flipped.
Vale slammed into the ground, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. In an instant, she transitioned, locking him in place, her legs pinning his upper body while her arms restrained his movement completely. It was a perfect hold, efficient and inescapable.
He struggled, muscles tensing, trying to force his way free, but there was no opening, no leverage to exploit. Every attempt was anticipated, countered before it could even begin.
After a few seconds, he exhaled sharply and tapped against her arm.
Silfur released him immediately.
She stood and extended a hand down toward him, her grin returning as though the exchange had been nothing more than a friendly spar.
"Need a hand?" she asked.
Vale stared at her for a moment, then sighed and accepted it, allowing her to pull him back to his feet. He rolled his shoulder once, wincing slightly before looking at her with clear frustration.
"Why do I keep losing?" he asked.
Silfur tilted her head, considering him carefully before answering.
"Well… from what I've seen, you know a lot," she began, her tone more analytical now. "Your technique is excellent, honestly, better than most I've trained with. But you don't really understand how to use it." She gestured vaguely, as if trying to piece the idea together. "You execute movements perfectly, but without adapting them. That makes you predictable."
She paused, studying his reaction before continuing.
"Right now, your biggest strength is actually your versatility. You're not reliant on a weapon, and your hand-to-hand is solid. But the moment something unfamiliar happens, like that hold just now, you freeze." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "First time someone's used something like that on you?"
Vale didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his eyes widened just slightly as the realization settled in. Before he could respond, a shadow slipped past him, rising from the ground and taking shape beside him. Shade's form solidified, crimson eyes glowing faintly as it looked between Vale and Silfur. After a moment, it gave a small, silent nod, confirming her assessment.
Vale exhaled slowly.
"Am I really that predictable?" he asked.
Silfur shrugged.
"Against monsters? Probably not. They don't think the same way." She crossed her arms. "But against intelligent opponents both humans and advanced spawn, you're easy to read. Your skill is high, but it lacks variation. It's… awkward, in a way."
Vale closed his eyes briefly, letting her words settle. Deep down, he knew she was right. For so long, his battles had been against creatures that relied on instinct rather than strategy. Precision had been enough. Efficiency had been enough.
But here… that wasn't enough.
His techniques, wherever they had come from, however he had learned them, existed only as fragments. Muscle memory without understanding. Execution without intent.
And that gap was costing him.
Behind him, a sudden flare of orange light briefly illuminated the arena before fading. Vale turned his head just in time to see Ivor sliding his rapier back into its sheath, his posture relaxed as he raised both hands in surrender.
"I admit defeat," Ivor said calmly, glancing toward Eskar. "You, young man, are quite literally the worst opponent I could have asked for."
Eskar let out a small laugh, rolling his shoulders. "I'll take that as a win."
"It is," Ivor replied with a faint sigh. "Though not a particularly satisfying one."
The two of them approached, joining Vale and Silfur as the barrier surrounding the arena shimmered faintly. Beyond it, the gathered spectators erupted into conversation, some impressed, others surprised that the newcomers had lasted as long as they had.
Ivor cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the center.
"Vale. Eskar," he began, his tone formal now, carrying easily across the arena. "Based on what we have observed, I will be awarding both of you the second-highest rank within our combat classification."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Your forms require refinement," he continued, glancing briefly at Silfur before returning his gaze to them. "Your understanding is incomplete. But make no mistake, both of you stand near the apex of your craft."