The Brave Heart

The sound of clashing steel rang through the mountain like thunder. Sparks scattered in all directions as blade met blade again and again—light crashing against silver with unrelenting force.

Helion and Draven moved like two storms colliding.

A burst of golden light surged from Helion's sword as he brought it down—Draven met it with his shield, unmoved. Their weapons locked, power surging between them in pulses that cracked the stone beneath their feet.

Helion gritted his teeth as the pressure grew unbearable. His boots scraped the ground, sliding back as Draven pressed forward with the weight of a fortress behind every step.

With a sharp breath, Helion twisted out of the clash and broke into a sprint. He moved in a wide arc, circling Draven with measured steps, eyes scanning for any kind of weakness.

Not a crack.

Not a gap.

The silver armor around Draven pulsed—solid, sleek, seamless. A wall of defense that moved like a weapon.

"Come on…" Helion muttered.

He dropped low, sliding across the ground and arcing his sword upward in a sharp sweep, hoping to catch an opening under the arm.

CLANG—!

The blade rang against steel. No damage. No dent. Not even a scratch.

Damn it. Not good enough.

He recoiled back, instincts firing. This armor… it's even stronger than before. I can't get through. He's giving me nothing.

Helion's mind raced. Maybe if I—

—He didn't get the chance to finish the thought.

THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.

Three spears of metal shot toward him without warning, whistling through the air.

Helion's body moved on instinct.

One swing—CLANG.

A pivot—SHING.

A full spin—CRASH.

All three blocked.

He didn't stop. In one fluid motion, he launched himself into the air, sword at the ready, breathing hard.

From here… maybe I can—

But Draven was already following. He lifted both arms.

From his gauntlets, three more spears burst out like arrows. Two more jagged spikes ripped free from his lower armor, firing upward from his torso in a deadly line, all aimed for one point.

Helion swung downward, blade glowing with heat, sparks bursting as he deflected the first set—but the second line hit harder, forcing him to reel back.

"Enough," Draven growled, charging.

He didn't wait for the dust to clear. In a blur of motion, he closed the distance, reeled his fist back, and smashed it into Helion's chest.

CRACK—!

Helion coughed, his breath stolen—but his feet didn't stop. He pushed into the hit, letting the force carry him forward.

And then—

SLASH—!

His blade ignited.

A brilliant arc of light struck Draven's side, surging with radiant energy. It detonated on contact, a flash of golden light erupting as it hurled Draven into a jagged wall of stone.

BOOM—!

The rocks cracked. Smoke poured out from the impact.

Helion dropped to one knee, panting, his chest burning.

The mountain quieted for a moment.

Then—

From the rubble, a chuckle.

Draven stood.

Completely intact.

He stepped out of the fractured boulders, brushing dust from his shoulder as though he'd only been knocked off balance.

"You know," he said, his tone casual, "those rocks probably take more damage from me than I do from them."

The silver armor shimmered—unharmed. Not even singed.

"This is Bulwark Armor," he continued. "You're not going to break it."

Helion's grip tightened on his blade. His breath came in ragged bursts. Sweat ran down his jawline.

Draven raised his hand, cracked his knuckles.

"You're running out of mana.. I could feel it."

His voice was calm, but every word hit like a hammer.

"And once that's gone, you won't be a match for me even if I were asleep."

Helion said nothing.

His sword hummed faintly in his hand—still glowing, but dimmer now.

His eyes narrowed. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

He wasn't out yet.

But he was close.

And Draven knew it.

Helion pushed himself up from one knee, his hand shaking slightly as he gripped his sword.

His chest rose and fell with effort—but his eyes never left Draven.

I will beat him, he thought.

Luminox's voice echoed deep within.

"Helion… we need one strong blow. It's our only shot to break through his defense."

"You're right," Helion answered. "But… I can't see an opening."

"Then don't look for one," Luminox replied. "Make one. Use the First Form again—but this time, control the mana output. I'll stabilize the light. We'll beat him with speed and precision. We'll outpace his armor."

Helion nodded to himself. Ready.

Draven narrowed his eyes.

"Let me guess… another flashy beam? Light slashes again? What do you have this time?"

He cracked his neck, sword forming from his armor. He crouched, ready.

Helion didn't answer. He closed his eyes.

And focused.

He visualized his mana—not just flowing, but spreading like the petals of a blooming flower. Even, calm, radiant. He drew a long breath and aligned everything within him.

His sword lowered—sideways, glowing faintly.

The air shimmered around him.

And then the light burst forth.

Golden radiance poured from Helion's body in waves. Light and mana wrapped around him until his entire form was enveloped, transformed into a luminous being—a blazing figure cloaked in brilliance.

The ground cracked beneath him. Stones rose and levitated around his feet. The weight of the aura was overwhelming.

Zezzy, Liena, and Yuri all stood in disbelief from the stands.

"He's not—!" Liena gasped. "He's going to use that again?!"

Yuri's glasses glinted. "He might finally be able to control it…"

Zezzy frowned. "If he doesn't aim it right, it'll backfire. That form nearly destroyed him last time…"

In the royal booth, Zeyr leaned forward, one hand clenched into a fist. Loken, the great wolf, watched beside him.

"You've got it this time, kid," Zeyr whispered. "Land it clean."

Down below, Draven's brow furrowed. The sheer pressure rolling off Helion was different. More focused. More dangerous.

Draven expanded the shield across his forearm, readying himself. The blade in his other hand glinted. He braced.

Then—

Helion moved.

A flash of light tore forward.

The earth ripped open behind him as he bolted like a golden meteor, carving a glowing path through the stone.

Helion shouted—

"First Form: PRISM FLASH!"

A brilliant beam erupted as Helion launched forward—his entire body becoming pure light, a force of precision and devastation.

Draven charged in return.

Steel met radiance.

Force met fury.

BOOM!

The collision was explosive. Helion's power overwhelmed the shield, pushing Draven into the sky. Like a comet, Helion drove Draven upward—spinning, twisting, light consuming them both as they spiraled through the air.

The projection crystal blurred.

It was as if the sky itself was burning gold.

Then—

CRASH!

They hit the earth.

Light detonated on impact.

A crater split the battlefield. Rocks shattered outward. Wind screamed through the stadium, scattering dust and debris in all directions.

The audience stood frozen.

Mouths open.

Not a sound.

Even the captains were speechless.

Clipso. Geno. Lily. Gena.

Renza. Yuri. Liena. Zezzy.

All on their feet, eyes wide.

"He did it…" Yuri breathed. "He controlled it this time."

Zeyr stood, a broad grin across his face. "You finally did it…"

Even Noah Million, eyes cool and calculating, gave a small, impressed nod.

The dust began to settle.

Light flickered down like falling stars.

Helion emerged—rising from the crater on shaking legs. His armor was scorched. His clothes torn. His hand clutched the sword like a lifeline.

He fell to one knee, panting, spent.

He looked across the broken ground.

Was it over?

Liena and Zezzy jumped. "He did it—!"

The crowd began to erupt into cheers—

But then—

FWOOOOOM!

A massive gust of wind swept through the crater, clearing the dust in an instant. Debris flew back. Stones rolled away.

And from the heart of the destruction—

A new figure rose.

Tall. Armored.

With wings.

It was still Draven—but changed. His armor was sleeker now, sharper, with jagged silver wings pulsing at his back. Two forearm shields gleamed. A longsword floated, suspended by mana, beside him.

His helmet unlatched, sliding open to reveal his face—bloodied, bruised, but furious.

He panted, eyes blazing.

"I'll give it to you, Helion…" he growled. "No one's ever broken my Bulwark Armor."

He hovered, wind whistling beneath him.

"This… this is the first time I've had to use my Second Form in a match."

Helion's breath caught.

Second form…?

"I was wrong about you," Draven admitted. "You're strong."

His tone shifted—darker.

"But not strong enough."

"You'll lose. You're still a commoner. You don't deserve to be in the Royal Guard. You'll return to nothing."

The wings flexed.

Draven's mana surged again.

In the royal booth—

Axel: "That… That's the second form? With flight?"

Arion: "To have a second form at his level. Is impressive."

Syrus's eyes narrowed. Helion… hold on.

Zeyr's smile vanished. "Damn it…"

Vlad leaned forward, grinning ear to ear. "Yes, Draven. Show them what a real heir can do."

Draven spoke again, louder.

"This is my Second Form: Dragon Breaker Armor."

The wings beat downward—

WHOOOSH!

Wind exploded outward. Helion tried to brace, swinging to block—

BANG. BANG. BANG!

Three chunks of rock, hurled by the wind, slammed into him. He staggered. The last one struck his side.

Helion hit the ground, coughing. The light around him flickered.

His vision blurred.

But he wasn't out.

Helion tried to stand—but stumbled.

He gritted his teeth, a sharp pain flaring through his side as he clutched his ribs.

Luminox's voice echoed faintly in his mind.

"We're out of mana, Helion… This isn't looking good. Your body took too much damage from our First Form."

A pause.

"Draven must've activated his Second Form right before impact. That's how he endured it."

Helion wiped the blood from his mouth, then the sweat from his brow.

A memory surged through him—

Zelpho. That hopeless moment. The sting of helplessness. Of failing to protect the one who mattered most.

"I haven't been pushed this far… since then," he whispered.

Draven descended before him, wings of steel beating a heavy wind beneath him.

But then—

CRACK.

A visible fracture split across the center of Draven's armored chest.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

In the captain's booth, Syrus turned to Arion.

"That… his Second Form—it cracked?"

"Either it's incomplete," Arion replied grimly, "or Helion's strike broke through it."

Draven stared at his chest, stunned. Then rage overtook his face.

"That's it. I'm done with this."

He raised his arm.

"You've dragged this out long enough."

Helion's legs shook as he forced himself upright. His face was streaked with sweat, blood, and tears.

"I'm… not done!" he shouted.

The projection crystal zoomed in on him—standing, shaking, yet defiant.

Tears streamed freely.

A memory of Grandpa Loken filled his mind.

"I have to do this… for you."

The arena was silent.

"You saved me… Grandpa. I can't let this be the end."

"I promised. I promised I'd protect the ones I couldn't before. That I'd be stronger."

His voice cracked.

"Because if I was… maybe I could've saved you!"

In the stands, Liena broke down in tears. Zezzy and Yuri caught her as she collapsed to her knees.

Helion coughed blood and dropped to the ground again—but his grip never loosened.

He pushed himself back up.

"This is nothing…"

He spat the words.

"This is nothing compared to that day."

The moment of Lokens death. The pain. The silence that followed.

"I was weak back then."

He stood again.

"But I'm not weak anymore."

Zeyr clenched his fist.

Arion turned to Syrus. "That's enough. End the match—he's out of mana, he's bleeding. He'll die."

Syrus… was silent. Frozen.

Arinelle stepped forward. "Syrus. Should I call it?"

Syrus finally spoke—quiet, steady.

"He's not done."

"It's like before... But that day—he pushed through something none of us could've survived. Not the opponent, but the loss of his heart".

Back on the mountain, Helion shook.

Draven stared, exasperated.

"Why won't you stay down? You're DONE!"

"You'll have to put me down to win!" Helion shouted back, voice hoarse.

His vision blurred.

Draven smiled coldly. "So be it."

Then—

Helion's aura surged.

A final wave of golden light pulsed around him, not wild—but focused. Pure.

Children in the stands stared wide-eyed.

A beacon of light was standing before them.

Luminox's voice came once more, gentle but grave.

"Helion… this is the last ember. After this, we're both out of the fight. If we survive."

"But we are one now. And I'll follow you to the end."

"Thank you," Helion whispered. "Let's make it count."

His sword rose.

Light exploded around him—pure and radiant, brighter than ever.

He brought the sword down—

Helion eyes widened.

—than his footing shifted and slipped.

The blade struck beside Draven—

KRA-KOOM!

An explosive wave of light emitted.

The mountain split. A massive section collapsed, cascading down to the earth below.

The sheer force of the attack—though it missed—rattled the field.

Draven's armor cracked further. He stumbled backward, wings sputtering.

But before Helion could collapse—

Time froze.

Syrus appeared in a flash of silver, catching Helion mid-fall.

The crowd sat in stunned silence.

Draven hovered above—then fell. His armor shattered as he hit the ground.

He stared at the broken mountain. At his shaking hands.

Did that attack miss… on purpose?

Arion walked onto the field, vines blooming beneath his feet.

"That power…" he murmured. "That surge could've opened a Third Form."

Syrus looked down at the unconscious boy in his arms.

"He didn't push through for glory," he said. "He did it… for others."

Arion reached out a hand to Draven.

"You've won the match, Draven."

The crowd roared—but it was split.

Cheers met tears. Triumph met sorrow.

Liena collapsed again, sobbing. Zezzy and Yuri held her close.

Draven trembled as he looked at his broken armor, his wings scattered across the dirt.

He could've killed me…

Syrus's voice rose again.

"Helion saw what that attack could've done. He chose to miss. He sacrificed his dream… to spare his rival's life."

Silence fell once more.

Syrus held Helion in his arms and turned to the crowd through the crystal projection.

"What you've witnessed… is the essence of a Royal Guard Knight."

"But today… we've also witnessed sacrifice."

He looked down at Helion.

"He gave everything. Not to win—but to protect. Even his opponent."

The Hyper Beams descended from the sky like pillars of light.

One enveloped Syrus, who held the unconscious Helion in his arms.

Another gathered Arion, who carefully helped a battered Draven to his feet.

As the light carried them back to the arena platform, a hush spread through the crowd. The weight of what they had witnessed hung in the air like fog—shock, awe, reverence.

The dust had settled, but the emotions hadn't.

Arion stepped forward, extending his hand.

"Spirit Skill: Verdant Rain."

A soft green glow radiated from his palm. Mana shimmered in the air and gently washed over Helion's broken frame. It wasn't a full recovery—but it was enough. Enough for him to breathe. Enough for him to see.

Helion's eyes fluttered open.

Helion's chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

The warmth of Arion's healing spell lingered in his body, but it couldn't mask the truth.

His legs trembled as he slowly pushed himself to his knees. The golden glow from the projection crystal lit his battered face, casting long shadows beneath his eyes.

He looked up at the screen… and saw it.

Draven: Winner.

Helion's breath caught still .

His fingers, still wrapped around his sword, twitched.

His heart ached—not from the wounds—but from the realization that it was over.

He had lost.

Not because he wasn't strong enough.

But because he chose not to win… at the cost of someone else's life.

He bowed his head.

For a brief moment, shame threatened to take root in his chest.

His dream—shattered at the very edge of his blade.

He'd been so close.

Tears welled in his eyes again—not just from exhaustion, but from a pain deeper than the body.

"Grandpa…" he whispered.

"I'm sorry. I failed…"

But then—

A single clap.

A small child in the front row stood up and clapped proudly.

Another followed.

Then another.

Until the entire stadium rose to its feet, wave after wave of applause rippling outward. Some bowed. Some wept. But all of them—honored.

They weren't cheering because Helion won.

They were cheering because he didn't destroy.

Because he chose mercy.

Syrus stepped forward, voice carrying across the arena.

"Draven has won the battle fairly. His strength, discipline, and second form have earned him the title of Junior Royal Guard Knight."

The captains nodded their agreement, solemn and proud.

But Syrus wasn't done.

He turned to the crowd, his expression steady—yet weighted with something deeper.

"But today… something happened that has never occurred in the history of the Royal Draft."

The arena held its breath.

"For the first time ever, a warrior will be honored not for what he conquered—"

"—but for what he chose not to destroy."

Gasps echoed through the stands.

Whispers.

A stillness fell over the moment, sacred and rare.

"And so… we present a new honor. One that embodies the very spirit our kingdom holds dearest—not power, but purpose."

"The Brave Heart Award."

"Bestowed upon the one who, when given the power to annihilate… chose instead to protect."

The projection crystal pulsed gold—Helion's name emblazoned across the sky in radiant letters.

"This year's Brave Heart recipient… is Helion."

The arena erupted.

Tears. Applause. Cheers that shook the very stone beneath their feet.

A roar of emotion unlike any before.

In the stands, Zeyr bowed his head—his silence loud with pride.

Vlad, high in the royal booth, stared downward. Lips pressed tight. unreadable.

And Draven… stood quietly beside them all, expression flickering between anger, awe… and something almost like guilt.

"And with it," Syrus concluded, "Helion will be granted the title of Advance Royal Guard Knight."

The crystal flared again.

The kingdom now had two victors.

One for strength.

The other for heart.