Two Victories

The silence in the arena stretched, thick and heavy with disbelief. The crowd was still trying to process what they had witnessed. The eldest prince, the pride of the kingdom, had been defeated, and with a speed and efficiency that defied comprehension.

The second prince, a younger but equally arrogant figure, finally broke the silence. He stepped forward, his face a mask of stunned bewilderment. "How… how did you…?" he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. "I have never seen anyone summon… and strike… that fast."

The third prince, the youngest of the three, echoed his brother's shock. "Did he even… enchant?" he whispered, his eyes wide with a strange mixture of fear and fascination. "It was like the weapon was already… there."

The second prince, recovering slightly from his initial shock, tried to regain his composure. He looked at his defeated brother, still lying against the wall, then back at Kurt. "My brother might have been… overconfident," he said, his voice regaining some of its usual haughtiness, though it still trembled slightly. "He might have… let his guard down. But I will not make the same mistake."

He stepped forward, his hand already moving, preparing to summon his own Astra weapon. "Hey, kid," he said to Kurt, his tone a forced bravado. "Can you also… spar with me?"

Kurt, his masked face giving nothing away, simply inclined his head. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the prince's nervous energy.

The second prince hesitated, suddenly aware of the weight of the challenge he had just issued. But pride, and the need to restore the honor of the royal house, compelled him forward. "Yes," he said, his voice firmer now, though a flicker of doubt still lingered in his eyes. "But this time," he added, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice, "let me at least… summon my weapon properly. And then we can begin."

He focused his will, channeling his Astra, and with a flourish, summoned his weapon: a gleaming, double-edged sword, crackling with energy. "Okay," he said, gripping the hilt tightly. "Now we can start."

But as before, his words were barely out of his mouth when Kurt moved. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion. Only a precise, controlled burst of speed and power.

He summoned the energy spear again, not with a dramatic flourish, but with a quiet, efficient surge of will. He didn't unleash its full destructive potential, but channeled just enough force to incapacitate, to disarm.

The spear struck the second prince's sword hand, not with the force of an explosion, but with the focused power of a master. The prince's grip loosened, his sword clattered to the ground, and he stumbled backward, his face contorted in pain and disbelief.

The match was over. Again. The second prince had fallen, defeated as swiftly and decisively as his elder brother.