Arthur stared at the fiery determination burning in Legend's eyes. The boy was practically vibrating with newfound purpose, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.
Arthur simply sighed, the faint, dangerous smile fading from his lips into an expression of sheer boredom.
"Your words are utterly meaningless, Legend," Arthur said, his tone as flat and cold as the frozen earth outside.
Legend flinched. "What?"
"No matter how much you struggle, no matter how hard you swing that sword, it's all pointless if I don't acknowledge it," Arthur explained, turning his back on the swordsman. "The title of a Spirit Lord isn't a trophy you can just snatch away in a brawl. If I refuse to accept your challenge or acknowledge the transfer of the title, your grand revenge fantasy remains exactly that—a fantasy."
Arthur picked up his worn travel pack and walked toward the wooden stairs leading to the second floor.
"I'm going to my room," Arthur muttered over his shoulder. "If I stay down here and listen to any more of your heroic declarations, I can already feel a pointless shouting match coming on. I prefer quiet."
Without another word, Arthur disappeared up the stairs, the wooden floorboards creaking softly under his weight.
Legend stood frozen in the center of the room, his teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached. He didn't even take me seriously, Legend thought, his grip on his sword tightening until his knuckles turned white. Fine. I'll make you take me seriously.
A little while later, the heavy wooden door of Legend's room creaked open.
Legend was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the thick, unnatural fog pressing against the windowpane. He didn't turn around as heavy footsteps entered the room.
"Hey, kid," a deep, gruff voice called out.
It was Gron. The hulking shield-bearer awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, his cast-bound arm resting in its sling. The tension from the earlier confrontation with Arthur still hung heavily in the air.
"What is it, Gron?" Legend asked, his voice exhausted.
Gron pulled up a sturdy wooden chair and sat down heavily, the wood groaning under his massive frame. He hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words.
"Listen, Legend... forgive me for prying, but I have to ask," Gron began, his tone uncharacteristically careful. "Are you... by any chance, the son of Mr. Hinamoto?"
Legend's shoulders stiffened. The air in the room instantly grew colder. He finally turned his head to look at Gron, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Yeah. That's right," Legend replied curtly. "Why? Did that pique your interest?"
Legend stood up, his defensive walls instantly snapping into place. "Let me guess. You figured it out, and now you want something. Yes, as you probably suspect, the prodigy Ludver Hinamoto is my older brother."
Legend let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. "But let me warn you right now, Gron. My relationship with him is absolute garbage. If you think getting close to me is going to earn you an audience with my genius brother, you're wasting your time. I can't help you."