CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE: A STORM BREWING

The sun inched toward the horizon, casting long shadows over the training ground. The heat of the day faded into a cooler breeze, but the tension only thickened.

Gravill stood near the edge of the training circle, his fingers still rolling his number token between them. Fifteen. His opponent—Eleven.

He glanced toward the boy. Callix's friend. He still didn't know his name, but it didn't matter. The look in his eyes was enough.

Hatred.

Not the petty resentment of a lost fight, but something deeper—something that had been festering long before Gravill ever arrived here.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

He turned, finding Nicholas standing beside him, arms crossed.

"You should be careful with this one," a boy standing beside Gravill murmured.

Gravill frowned. "You know him?"

The boy spoke quietly . "Ronan. One of Callix's closest friends. And one of the better fighters here. You embarrassed Callix today, so now he's going to try and return the favor through him."

Gravill exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. His muscles still ached from his first fight, but the tension in his chest was sharper.

"He fights differently from Callix," He continued. "Less brute strength, more precision. He's fast. He doesn't waste movement. And he holds grudges."

Gravill met his gaze. "Anything else?"

A small smirk tugged at the corner of the boy's lips. "Yeah. He fights dirty."

Gravill's grip tightened around the wooden token.

The thought had already crossed his mind. Callix had been strong, but predictable. If Ronan was fast, cunning, and willing to cheat, that made him even more dangerous.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

The instructor had returned, standing before the assembled trainees once more. The sun was dipping lower now, painting the ocean beyond in streaks of fire and gold.

"Sundown," the instructor said simply. "The matches begin."

The crowd stirred, some stepping forward, others shifting into place.

Gravill took one last deep breath, steadying himself. Then he stepped forward too.

The sand was warm beneath his bare feet. The training ground felt larger than before, stretching out in his mind like an arena where fates were sealed.

Across from him, Ronan stepped forward as well. He moved smoothly, almost lazily, his expression unreadable.

Then he smirked.

"Try not to embarrass yourself this time," he muttered, just loud enough for Gravill to hear.

Gravill didn't respond. He had learned that words meant nothing here.

Only actions did.

The instructor raised a hand.

"Begin."

Ronan struck first.

Fast.

Too fast.

Gravill barely had time to react before Ronan's fist was already in motion, aiming for his ribs. He twisted, but not fast enough—the hit landed, sharp and precise, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He staggered, gritting his teeth.

Ronan didn't wait. He pressed forward, relentless, a blur of movement.

Gravill dodged left, barely avoiding a kick that would have sent him sprawling. Another strike followed, and this time, he managed to block it, but the impact still rattled through his bones.

Ronan was faster than Callix. More controlled. He wasn't wasting energy. Every move was meant to wear Gravill down, to pick him apart piece by piece.

And it was working.

Gravill's breath came heavier. He wasn't outmatched in strength, but speed—speed was something else.

Another feint, another sharp strike to his ribs. Pain flared.

Ronan grinned. "Slowing down already?"

Gravill exhaled through his nose, stepping back, forcing himself to think.

He couldn't keep up with Ronan's pace. Couldn't react to each attack as it came.

So he had to change the fight.

Instead of retreating, he did something unexpected.

He lunged forward.

Ronan's smirk faltered.

Gravill didn't aim for a clean strike. He didn't aim at all. He crashed into Ronan, using his full weight, forcing them both into the sand.

A gasp rippled through the watching crowd.

Gravill wasted no time. He pinned Ronan's wrist, driving his knee into his opponent's stomach.

Ronan snarled, struggling, but Gravill had already shifted his grip, pressing down harder.

Speed didn't matter here. Not when there was nowhere to run.

Ronan thrashed, but Gravill locked him down, forcing him into the ground, pressing his weight over him like an anchor.

The fight was over.

The instructor stepped forward.

"Enough."

Gravill released Ronan and stepped back, breathing hard.

Ronan pushed himself up, his face twisted in fury.

Gravill met his glare, steady and unyielding.

He had won. Again.

But the storm brewing in Ronan's eyes told him—this wasn't the end.

It was just the beginning.