The Aftermath of Battle
A deep silence engulfed the arena.
The dust still hung in the air like a thick curtain, blurring the vision of thousands of spectators. Every noble, every commoner, every warrior held their breath.
Then—
A single figure remained standing.
Arjun.
His golden aura flickered like a dying flame, his chest rising and falling heavily. His right fist trembled, still outstretched from the final clash. His knuckles ached. His entire body screamed in pain. But none of it mattered.
Across from him, Damien lay sprawled on the ground, his body motionless. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled to move. His once-arrogant grin was gone.
And yet—
He was laughing.
Soft at first, then louder, until it echoed through the ruined battlefield.
"Heh… Haha… HAHAHA!"
Arjun didn't move. He barely had the strength to keep standing, let alone respond. But he watched as Damien forced himself to sit up, wiping blood from his lips with the back of his hand.
His eyes—once filled with cocky superiority—now burned with something else.
Respect.
"You…" Damien exhaled, shaking his head. "You actually won."
His words felt surreal.
For the nobles, it was impossible.
For the commoners, it was a miracle.
For Arjun, it was simply reality.
The tension shattered as the audience erupted.
The commoners roared in celebration. Cheers filled the air, people shouting Arjun's name, their voices raw with excitement.
But the nobles…
They were silent.
Faces once filled with arrogance and amusement were now frozen in shock.
"Damien… lost?"
"To a no-name commoner?"
"This… This isn't possible."
Yet it was.
Arjun had won.
Arjun took a shaky breath, his legs threatening to collapse beneath him. He willed himself to stay upright. Not out of pride—but because he had to.
He turned his gaze to Damien.
Even in defeat, Damien didn't look broken. His body was battered, his energy drained, but his spirit was unshaken.
He met Arjun's eyes and smirked.
"You're the real deal."
Arjun didn't answer. He simply nodded.
Because what was there to say?
The battle had spoken for them both.
A sudden BOOM echoed through the arena.
A large figure descended onto the battlefield—the tournament overseer.
His presence alone silenced the entire arena. He was an elder from the capital, a man of immense power and authority.
His gaze swept over the scene before settling on Arjun.
Then—
A slow, deliberate nod.
"The winner…" His voice boomed, reaching every corner of the arena.
"…is Arjun."
The crowd exploded.
Victory was official.
Arjun had done the impossible.
But even as the celebration roared around him, his body finally gave in.
His vision blurred.
His knees buckled.
And then—
Darkness.
When Arjun opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the scent of herbs.
His body felt heavy.
Pain radiated from every muscle, every bone. It was like his body had been shattered and pieced back together.
He turned his head slightly, blinking against the dim light of the room. It was a simple space, walls lined with shelves stacked with medicinal herbs and potions. The faint glow of a lantern flickered in the corner.
He wasn't alone.
A soft rustling sound made him shift his gaze.
A girl sat beside his bed, carefully grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle. Her silver hair caught the lantern's glow, her movements precise and practiced.
Zhao Yufei.
She glanced up, her violet eyes narrowing. "You're awake."
Her tone was neutral, but there was something else beneath it.
Relief.
Arjun swallowed. His throat felt dry. "How long…?" His voice was hoarse.
"Two days."
Two days.
He had been unconscious for two whole days.
The tournament…
The fight…
Everything rushed back at once.
"The fight," he muttered. "Did I—?"
Zhao Yufei sighed, setting the mortar down. "You won."
Despite the soreness in his body, a small smile tugged at Arjun's lips.
It was real.
He had actually won.
The door creaked open.
Zhao Yufeng stepped inside, his expression unreadable. He carried a tray with a steaming bowl of soup.
"You're awake," he said simply, placing the tray on a nearby table. "Eat."
Arjun pushed himself up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles.
Zhao Yufeng crossed his arms. "That was reckless."
Arjun met his gaze. "I won."
"That doesn't mean it wasn't reckless."
A pause.
Then, Yufeng sighed. "But… it was impressive."
Arjun blinked. That was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever received from Yufeng.
Zhao Yufei huffed. "Impressive or not, if you get yourself killed next time, don't expect me to heal you."
Arjun chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."
Yufei shoved the bowl of soup into his hands. "Eat."
Arjun took a sip. It was warm, slightly bitter, but it soothed the ache in his chest.
Silence settled between them.
Until Yufeng spoke again.
"The nobles aren't happy."
Arjun stilled.
"They expected Damien to win," Yufeng continued. "Your victory… disrupted their plans."
Zhao Yufei added, "They won't ignore this. You embarrassed them. Some of them will take it personally."
Arjun set the bowl down.
He had known this would happen.
The nobles controlled the capital. They dictated the rules, the politics, the flow of power.
And he had just shattered their expectations.
"I see."
Yufeng studied him. "You don't seem worried."
"I'm not."
Because this was just the beginning.
He had fought for survival his whole life. He wasn't going to stop now.
If the nobles wanted to challenge him—
He would face them all.
Later that evening, as the sky darkened, a knock echoed at the door.
Yufei opened it.
Her expression darkened. "What do you want?"
A familiar voice answered.
"I came to talk."
Arjun sat up as Damien stepped inside.
His clothes were fresh, but his face still bore faint bruises from their battle.
There was no arrogance in his stance. No mocking grin.
Just quiet curiosity.
Damien studied him for a moment. Then—
He smirked.
"Next time," he said, "I'll win."
Arjun met his gaze.
A slow smile spread across his lips.
"We'll see."
And for the first time—
It wasn't rivalry.
It wasn't hostility.
It was respect.
The battle between them had ended.
But their story was far from over.