Training vs Reality

The marketplace outside the tournament registration area bustled with life. Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, selling everything from gleaming weapons to charms meant to ward off bad luck. The clamor of mercenaries, blacksmiths, and merchants filled the air. Alex, Kenji, and Mia weaved through the crowd, making their way toward the towering marble building where the tournament registration was being held.

Alex tugged at the edge of his shirt, his nerves tightening with every step. "This is… a lot bigger than I thought it'd be."

Kenji clapped him on the back with a grin. "Of course! This tournament draws mercenaries from all over the region. The prize money alone is enough to make anyone salivate."

Mia added, "And don't forget the bragging rights. Winning here practically guarantees fame. You'll have nobles and guilds lining up to hire you."

The trio entered the building, their footsteps echoing off the polished stone floors. Inside, mercenaries of all shapes and sizes filled the hall. Some leaned against walls, chatting confidently about their past victories, while others sharpened their weapons or exchanged strategies. Alex felt like a small fish in a sea of sharks.

At the registration desk, a bored-looking clerk flipped through a stack of parchment. "Name?"

"Alex," he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

The clerk raised an eyebrow but said nothing, jotting down his name. "You're in the singles division?"

Alex nodded.

Kenji and Mia stepped up next. The clerk sized them up. "Duo division?"

"Yeah," Kenji replied. "Kenji and Mia. And you can mark us down as the winners while you're at it."

The clerk snorted but handed them their entry slips.

Encountering the Rival

As they turned to leave, Alex bumped into a tall, muscular man with a scar running down his cheek. His armor was polished to a gleaming silver, and a greatsword rested on his back. The man sneered down at Alex.

"Watch where you're going, runt."

Alex stumbled back, muttering an apology.

The man's eyes narrowed as he looked Alex over. "You're competing in the singles division? Don't make me laugh. They're letting anyone in these days."

Mia stepped forward, her hand resting on her bow. "Back off. He doesn't need your opinion."

The man ignored her, his gaze fixed on Alex. "Let me guess. First tournament? You look like you don't even know which end of a dagger to hold."

Alex's hands curled into fists, but before he could respond, the man grinned. "Tell you what. I'll see you in the arena… if you even make it past the first round." With that, he turned and walked away, his laughter echoing behind him.

Kenji crossed his arms. "Don't let him get to you. Guys like that are all bark."

Mia added, "And if he's not? We'll figure it out. You've come this far, Alex. Don't let some jerk shake your confidence."

Alex nodded, though the rival's words lingered in his mind.

Tournament Structure and a Challenge

The trio moved to the main hall, where an organizer stood on a raised platform, addressing the crowd. "Welcome to the Drakemouth Mercenary Tournament! The singles and duo divisions will test your skill, strategy, and endurance. Only one winner will emerge in each category, earning both glory and the grand prize."

The crowd cheered, and Alex felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.

The organizer continued, "Until the matches begin tomorrow, participants are free to challenge one another for practice. However, any serious injuries or deaths are your own responsibility."

As the crowd dispersed, Alex barely had time to process the announcement before a familiar voice called out.

"Hey, runt!"

Alex turned to see the scarred man from earlier. He leaned against a column, his arms crossed. "How about a warm-up match? Unless you're too scared."

Kenji started forward, but Alex raised a hand. "I'll do it."

Kenji hesitated. "You sure?"

Alex nodded. "I need to see where I stand."

The Sparring Match

The match took place in a small arena behind the registration building. A few mercenaries gathered to watch, eager for entertainment. The scarred man drew his sword with a flourish, its blade gleaming in the sunlight.

Alex gripped his daggers tightly, his palms slick with sweat.

"Let's see what you've got," the man taunted, lunging forward with surprising speed.

Alex barely dodged, the sword slicing the air inches from his face. He retaliated with a quick strike, but the man deflected it effortlessly.

"You're too slow," the man said, swinging his blade in a wide arc.

Alex leapt back, his heart pounding. He tried to use Phantom Step, but his timing was off, and he stumbled. The crowd laughed, and Alex's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

The man pressed the advantage, forcing Alex to stay on the defensive. Every time Alex tried to counter, the man's strength and reach overwhelmed him.

But as the fight continued, Alex noticed a pattern in the man's movements. His footwork, though aggressive, was predictable.

On the next attack, Alex dodged to the side and slipped behind his opponent, slashing at his armor. The blade didn't penetrate, but it was enough to surprise the man.

"Lucky shot," the man growled, swinging again.

Alex focused on the man's feet, reading his next move. This time, when the sword came down, Alex sidestepped and slashed at the man's exposed arm.

The man hissed in pain, but before Alex could press the advantage, the referee called the match. "That's enough!"

The scarred man glared at Alex but said nothing, stomping off.

A Lesson in Resilience

Back with Kenji and Mia, Alex sank onto a bench, exhausted.

"You did well," Kenji said.

Alex shook his head. "I barely held my own."

"That's why it's called practice," Kenji replied. "You're not supposed to be perfect right away. You'll get there."

Mia added, "You're better than you think, Alex. Don't let one match define you."

Dream Training Room

That night, Alex found himself back in the dream training room. The endless expanse stretched before him, and his daggers felt light in his hands.

He replayed the sparring match in his mind, analyzing his mistakes. Determined to improve, he practiced Phantom Step again and again.

At first, he stumbled, just like before. But with each attempt, his movements grew smoother. Without the limits of exhaustion, he could focus entirely on mastering the skill.

After what felt like hours, Alex finally executed Phantom Step flawlessly, his daggers striking an imaginary opponent from multiple angles.

He grinned, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. "I'll be ready."