Cora Melle

A spear whistled past Arthur's head, close enough for him to feel the sharp rush of air against his cheek. Reacting instinctively, he snatched it with his left hand, his grip firm despite the force behind the weapon. His opponent lunged forward, but Arthur stepped in, using the opening to thrust his sword into the figure before him. The strike was clean, precise. However, just as the blade connected, the opponent's form shimmered and vanished into thin air.

Arthur's sharp gaze shot upward. There he was—the same opponent hovering above, descending rapidly with another spear poised for a devastating plunge. Arthur didn't hesitate. He dashed backward in a blur, narrowly evading the attack as the spear slammed into the ground where he had been standing moments before. The stone floor cracked under the impact, dust and debris scattering in all directions.

The moment the dust cleared, Arthur charged forward. His movements were quick, calculated. He leaped toward his opponent, and with a solid, forceful step, he planted his foot on the enemy's shoulder, propelling himself even higher into the air. His opponent, undeterred, summoned another clone. The duplicate materialized in midair with a spear, flinging itself toward Arthur like a projectile. The clash of energy and steel reverberated through the training hall as Arthur twisted mid-flight, narrowly avoiding the clone's assault.

Arthur's keen mind calculated his next move in an instant. He spun forward, using the momentum from the clone's attack to propel himself further toward the original opponent. His body turned into a blur of motion, building speed with every rotation. The enemy below barely had time to react. As Arthur descended with a final, powerful spin, his opponent attempted to block, raising his spear in a desperate defense.

But it was futile. The sheer force of Arthur's downward slash overwhelmed the spear, splintering it with a loud crack. The blade tore through the weapon and landed on the opponent's chest, leaving a deep, diagonal slash that would undoubtedly leave a permanent scar. The opponent collapsed onto the ground, groaning in pain but conscious.

"Match 33 winner is Arthur Hale!" the referee announced, their voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

Arthur sheathed his sword, ignoring the scattered cheers and whispers from the onlookers. A small group of students gathered around him, admiration evident in their wide eyes and murmured congratulations, but Arthur quickly made his way out of the ring. His expression was neutral, stoic, but the slight flush of color on his face hinted at the effort he had just exerted.

"Hey, that was incredible!" a familiar voice called out.

Arthur turned to see John approaching with an enthusiastic grin. "You're the first person today to manage a win. Most of these matches have been draws."

Arthur shrugged, brushing the comment aside. "Come on, John. If that guy wasn't a controller, it probably would've ended in a tie like all the others," he said, his tone calm but tinged with a hint of self-doubt.

John crossed his arms, shaking his head firmly. "So what? Luck is a huge factor in fights. Getting an easier opponent isn't something to be ashamed of, and besides, you made the most of it. That was pure skill."

Arthur hesitated for a moment before offering a small nod. "I guess you're right," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

Before John could respond, the announcer's voice echoed through the hall again. "Match 34: Cora Melle versus…"

The rest of the name faded into a dull hum as Arthur's heart skipped a beat. His posture stiffened, and he turned toward the ring in disbelief. His eyes locked onto the figure stepping into the circle, her presence unmistakable. She had shoulder-length auburn hair that shimmered under the light, her piercing green eyes scanning the crowd with a mixture of confidence and intensity. Her movements were fluid, purposeful, as she prepared for her match.

Arthur froze. He hadn't seen her in years, yet her image was seared into his memory.

"Cora," he murmured under his breath, barely registering the second name announced for the match. For a moment, the noise of the crowd faded into the background, leaving him with nothing but the weight of the past resurfacing in his mind.

The last time Arthur had seen her wasn't a memory he cherished. Back when Arthur was just a child, before he had awakened and discovered that his ability was a conditional one, he had been an ordinary boy chasing an extraordinary dream. Like many children, Arthur had dreamed of becoming a Hunter, a hero who stood against the dangers of the world. His admiration for Kael Dravemir, the number one swordsman in Erevos, had inspired him to choose swordsmanship as his path. With stars in his eyes and a determination far beyond his years, Arthur convinced his parents to let him join a dojo.

His parents had hesitated at first. They worried about the risks, knowing that the path of a Hunter was fraught with danger. But they also knew how much this dream meant to him. Reluctantly, but with love, they agreed to let him pursue his passion.

The dojo became Arthur's second home. His talent shone brightly from the moment he picked up a sword. Every movement, every strike came to him with a natural ease that left even the instructors impressed. His progress was rapid, and he rose through the ranks at an astonishing pace. But while his talent drew admiration, it also drew envy. The other students, seeing his rapid rise, began to distance themselves from him. Instead of friends, Arthur found himself surrounded by whispers and resentful glances. His natural ability, which should have been a source of pride, became a barrier that isolated him.

That was, until she appeared.

"So, you're Arthur?" a voice called out one day, pulling him out of his focused training. Arthur turned to see a girl standing confidently before him. She had long black hair that fell just below her shoulders, with striking red bangs framing her face. Her red eyes sparkled with curiosity and determination, making her presence impossible to ignore.

Arthur looked at her, puzzled. "Yes. May I help you?"

The girl smiled. "My name's Cora Melle. I heard there's some rising star here who shot up through the ranks, so I came to challenge you… and maybe become friends," she added with a cheeky grin.

Arthur was stunned into silence. He had no idea how to react. All his life, he'd been friendless, and his recently gained talent alienated him from others. Yet here was someone not only challenging him but also offering friendship so openly. It was a moment that would forever be etched into his memory.

That day marked the beginning of something new for Arthur. Cora wasn't just the first person to reach out to him—she was also the first to defeat him. Their sparring match was quick but decisive. Arthur, confident in his ability, thought he would win easily. But to his shock, Cora bested him with precision and grace.

"How did you do that?" Arthur asked, still trying to catch his breath after their match.

Cora shrugged, a mischievous smile on her lips. "Unlike you, who's been training for a few months, I've been doing this for years in my dad's dojo."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Wait, the dojo belongs to your dad? Then why haven't I seen you here before?"

She laughed softly. "Well, I've been training with my grandpa for a while. But when I got back and heard there was some rising star making waves, I had to come see for myself."

Arthur nodded, still processing everything. "So… that's why you came," he murmured. An awkward silence settled between them, but it didn't last long.

"Is something wrong?" Cora asked, tilting her head slightly. "You seemed surprised earlier when I said I wanted to be friends. Were you serious?"

Arthur hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I mean… you were serious?"

"Absolutely," Cora replied, her red eyes twinkling with sincerity. Her expression, though serious, carried a warmth that Arthur had rarely seen.

That day, Arthur's life changed. For the first time, he had someone who didn't see him as just the talented swordsman or the untouchable rising star. Cora was his first friend, and despite the years that had passed, he hadn't forgotten her.

Back in the present, Arthur stood in the arena, his mind reeling. He hadn't seen Cora in years, and now here she was, standing just a few feet away, preparing for her own match.

"You seem to know that girl," John said, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts.

Arthur nodded, his gaze fixed on Cora. "Yeah. From a long time ago."

John raised an eyebrow. "Do you think she'll win?"

Arthur didn't hesitate. "I have no doubt about it," he said confidently.

As if to confirm his words, the moment the referee signaled the start of Cora's match, her opponent charged at her with full force. The other students watched intently, expecting an intense back-and-forth battle. But Cora had other plans.

As her opponent closed in, Cora casually raised her sword and swung. The motion was effortless, almost lazy. Yet the power behind it was anything but. A blinding light trailed behind her blade as it sliced through the air, creating a shockwave that sent her opponent flying. The sheer force of her attack left everyone in stunned silence. The match was over in seconds.

The referee's voice broke the silence. "Winner: Cora Melle."

Arthur couldn't help but smile. "That's Cora for you," he said quietly, his voice tinged with admiration.

John let out a low whistle. "Well, I guess you weren't exaggerating."

Arthur nodded, his confidence in his old friend reaffirmed. But as he watched her leave the arena, a mixture of emotions stirred within him. Pride, nostalgia, and a lingering question should I talk to her?