Rivals

Late at Night

After the meeting with King Neon, Aingo sat alone in a dimly lit bar. He cradled a glass of wine in his hand and stared blankly into its depths as he tried to figure out how to face the upcoming tournament in which Rider was set to participate. His mind drifted back to that moment when King Neon had informed him that the tournament would begin in the next two days. The memory flashed in his mind, and Aingo's face fell as he took a large gulp of wine and finished the glass. Without a word, he quietly paid the bar attendant. When the attendant asked if he was alright, Aingo offered no answer—he simply walked out slowly, lost in his thoughts. The attendant could only watch silently as Aingo's figure disappeared into the night.

Aingo's slow, measured steps echoed on the pavement as he wrestled with his thoughts. "What should I do now?" he muttered under his breath. "Tournament, my ass… Damn it, I knew I should have ruled back then so none of this would ever have happened." His inner monologue grew angrier as he considered the past. "No… If I had accepted the position of king back then, I wouldn't have even had time to be with Rider and train him this far. Besides, Neon is a great king—I can understand why he wants a tournament. Only the strongest can win."

Just then, dark rain began to fall, the heavy drops pelting the pavement. Aingo looked up at the dark, rain-filled clouds. Determination slowly replaced his inner turmoil. He squared his shoulders and promised himself that he would seize this opportunity. In the next two days, he would train Rider for the match-up and focus with every ounce of his energy on winning.

Meanwhile…

At home, Rider lay in his bed, struggling to sleep. The silence of the night was broken only by the steady sound of rain against the window. Yet Rider's mind was far from quiet. "Where did he go off to now?" he wondered aloud. "It's already late—shouldn't he be back by now?" Sitting up, Rider stared out the window, trying to shake off his restless thoughts. As he peered into the darkness, he noticed rain droplets streaming down the glass, confirming that the storm was real and relentless.

Abruptly, Rider threw off his pajamas and hurried to his closet. He changed into his regular training outfit and grabbed his sword before heading for the door, determined to find Aingo. But before Rider could even open the door, it swung open—and there stood Aingo, soaked from the rain, his expression hardened with anger.

Without any preamble, Aingo stepped inside, glaring at Rider. Rider, caught off guard, only managed a puzzled, "What the hell are you doing away all day? It's already 10 o'clock in the evening!"

Aingo didn't reply with words at first. Instead, he roughly grabbed Rider by the collar and dragged him out of the room. Rider protested weakly, "What are you doing? Let me go!" But Aingo's grip was unyielding. He dragged Rider through the hallway until they reached the training area—a place that now looked more like a battleground than a field of practice.

Without warning, Aingo flung Rider to the floor with a force that made Rider land painfully. For a long, excruciating moment, Rider lay there, staring up in confusion and shock, trying to read the expression on Aingo's face. Finally, Aingo's eyes hardened as he drew his sword and assumed a fighting stance. "Draw your sword," he ordered in a clipped tone.

Rider slowly got to his feet, still reeling from the sudden attack. "It's like the middle of the night, and you want a sparring session? No, I'm going to bed," Rider protested, his voice shaky with a mix of irritation and disbelief.

Aingo's face remained impassive for a moment before he muttered quietly, "Fine then." In that instant, without further hesitation, Aingo charged at Rider with impressive speed, swinging his sword as if aiming to end things immediately. Reflexively, Rider drew his own sword and managed to block Aingo's incoming strike.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Rider shouted, his voice edged with both fear and shock as he gasped for breath. "You almost killed me!"

Aingo's tone grew cold and hard as he replied, "Do you really think your enemy would go easy on you because you beg? Until you've seen death up close, you'll never be able to wield the Red Katana—let alone defeat Dextin."

Before Rider could process the words, Aingo kicked him hard in the stomach. The blow sent Rider tumbling backward onto the floor. He clutched his stomach in pain, struggling to catch his breath. Aingo then walked slowly toward him, his eyes dark with determination. "Get up now," Aingo ordered. "You need to fight with everything you've got."

Rider forced himself to rise, the pain in his stomach threatening to overwhelm him. He staggered, falling back to the floor momentarily before summoning every last bit of strength to stand again, barely managing to hold himself upright.

Aingo wasted no time. He charged again with full speed. This time, Rider managed to block three consecutive strikes. But then, Aingo switched tactics: using the hilt of his sword, he struck Rider at the bridge of his nose. The impact sent Rider flying backward.

"Get back up!" Aingo roared, his voice echoing in the quiet training area. "I'm not done with you yet!"

Rider struggled to rise as blood began to stream from his split nose. "Why?" he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible as he tried to muster the strength to speak.

Aingo, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and grim determination, swung his sword again. As his attack came, he shouted, "The winner of the tournament will be known as the Sword Master and will wield the Red Katana—everything I lived for…" His words were cut short as he kicked Rider's head, and Rider began to bleed, collapsing to the floor in a dazed and dormant state.

Aingo continued his tirade, his voice rising in anger, "It will all be for nothing! I wish…I wish Zack was Dran's son instead of you so my work would be easier!"

Rider's eyes widened in shock at the harsh words, his body already broken from the beating. Aingo then brought his sword down toward Rider once more, fully expecting a block. But to his surprise, Rider did not even try to stop the blow. Mid-attack, Aingo paused, his momentum suddenly halted as he yells Rider's name in worried anger. He looked down to see tears streaming from Rider's eyes. For a long, silent moment, Aingo stood there, stunned by the raw emotion on Rider's face.

Unable to find any words, Aingo finally sheathed his sword and turned away. "I'm gonna go take a bath now," he said in a subdued tone, his voice barely above a whisper. "You go get some sleep. We'll continue where we left off tomorrow."

And with that, Aingo left the training area, leaving Rider alone in the silent, dark room, his emotions a tangled mess as he lay on the floor for what felt like an eternity.

The Next Day

Morning light filtered softly through the tall windows of the grand hall. Rider sat atop a large stone structure in the hall, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he attempted to catch some sleep. Every time he tried to drift off, the memories of last night—a brutal, relentless training session—raced through his mind, keeping him awake.

Before long, Bianca entered the grand hall. Her face lit up when she saw Rider sitting there, and with a burst of energy, she rushed toward him, pouncing like she had the previous day. Rider's eyes snapped open from the unexpected embrace, and he teetered as he tried to maintain his balance atop the structure.

"Whoa! You almost killed me, Bianca!" he exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed.

Bianca apologized, smiling broadly as she stepped back. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," she said, her tone warm and teasing.

Bianca's grin faded as she caught sight of the bandage on Rider's head. Her expression shifted to concern as she asked, "What happened to you?"

Rider instinctively raised a hand to cover the bandage, recalling Aingo's brutal training session the night before. "Nothing much. I just fell," he said, forcing a casual tone.

Bianca pouted, unimpressed. "You're lying."

Rider sighed, knowing there was no point in hiding it from her. Reluctantly, he explained everything—Aingo's sudden aggression, the relentless sparring, and most of all, the words that had cut deeper than any strike.

Bianca listened intently before nodding. "Oh yeah, the tournament. I've heard about it."

Rider blinked in confusion. "How do you always know these things before they happen?"

She smirked. "My father's a news transfer remember. He's at the center of everything the king decides."

Rider looked up, his expression darkening. "Aingo was right," he murmured. "If Zack was Dran's son instead of me, everything would have worked out better."

Bianca studied him carefully, her usual playfulness gone. "Look, do you even know what you want? Do you want to wield the Red Katana?"

Rider hesitated before giving the same answer he always did. "I'm not sure yet."

Bianca scoffed, crossing her arms. "Stop lying to yourself."

Rider's eyes widened in shock.

"You say you don't know, but the truth is, you're just scared," she continued. "You don't want to get people's hopes up because you're not sure if you can live up to being the Red Katana's wielder yourself. But more than anyone, I believe in you. And if nobody else gives you the encouragement you need, you know where to find me."

For a moment, Rider was speechless. Then, a small smile broke through his doubt. "I figured you'd do something like this to cheer me up."

Before they could say more, a loudspeaker echoed through the grand hall, interrupting their conversation. They exchanged glances before rushing inside.

King Neon sat on his throne as Bianca's father stood in the center, holding a microphone. His voice boomed through the hall. "Gather around people of Xiphosia, I'm here to announce that A tournament will be held tomorrow. The winner will be crowned Sword Master and inherit the Red Katana. If you wish to participate, sign up at the post area. Oh, and before I forget—someone from outside the village will also be competing."

The crowd murmured in curiosity, speculation rising about the outsider.

Bianca's father raised his hand for silence. "Without further delay, please welcome Zack Kings, the contender from beyond our village!"

A hush fell over the hall as Zack stepped forward. He appeared out of nowhere, his expression cold and unreadable. The moment his presence registered, the crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable.

Rider, however, wasn't celebrating. His heart pounded as he turned to see zack standing stiffly, his fists clenched, his eyes locked onto Zack with pure hostility.

The real battle was only beginning as he finally recognize Zack as his rival.