Self Reproach

The duel contest resumed from where it had left off the previous day. By now, most students had either proven themselves worthy to advance to the next stage or had been defeated. As a result, today's battles carried a more serious tone than before.

The atmosphere was intense, with the sounds of steel clashing chaotically, as if threatening to unravel the invisible threads of the wind itself.

Northern sat in silent observation, carefully absorbing the essence of each fighter's combat style. He could feel something shifting within him—a blessing of sorts. A swelling sensation of change, pressing against his very being.

And at the heart of it all, there was nothing he wanted more than to step into the arena himself and test his sword.

The sword.

One thing that fascinated him was the sheer diversity of weapons wielded by the competitors. Each fighter had a unique preference, their combat style seamlessly tailored to complement their chosen armament.