Monday morning. A luxurious suite at the Outgal Inn.
Soft morning sunlight entered through a large arched window, illuminating Illya’s spacious bedroom. The walls were made of white marble, adorned with a few blue silk tapestries. A large bed with clean white linen sheets was in the center of the room. Across from it, a light wood vanity with a silver-framed mirror stood sturdily.
Illya opened her eyes slowly. The faint sound of seagulls and the distant crashing of waves could be heard coming into her room. She sat on the edge of the bed, silent for a moment. Her mind still felt a bit foggy.
She walked to the vanity and sat on the soft chair in front of it. She stared at her reflection in the mirror: her short green hair was messy, her eyes looked a little tired. Her fingers unconsciously touched her ear.
Illya still remembered what Fyar had said on Sunday night.
I... I think... I’m in love with you, Illya.
Illya’s face in the mirror instantly turned red. She quickly looked away from her own reflection.
So sudden... He left right away before I could reply!... Illya thought to herself.
Illya placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating fast. Her mind began to replay her moments with Fyar:
the first time they met at the inn,
when they trained together,
when Fyar fell asleep on her lap in the carriage,
when Fyar insisted on carrying her in the dungeon, and when Fyar calmed her down when she was in shock after returning from the dungeon.
Illya’s cheeks grew redder as her memory returned to the moment Fyar whispered in her ear that he loved her. Both her hands now covered her cheeks, which felt hot. She took a long, deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
She looked back at the mirror and saw a wide, foolish smile form on her face.
After a few moments, she stood up.
Today is an important day! Illya! You have to focus, focus!!! Illya thought as she patted her cheeks with her hands.
After bathing, she walked to her large wardrobe and opened it. She chose her clothes for the alliance meeting today: a long, soft pink dress. The dress had slightly puffy long sleeves and a corset adorned with gold thread embroidery in a distinctive geometric pattern. She completed it with a thin, matching silk shawl draped over her shoulders. Her appearance was elegant, feminine, but also radiated the authority of a noblewoman.
She combed her hair until it was neat, then walked out of her room toward the private dining room in their suite.
Zaefal and Rasie were already sitting at the dining table.
A lavish breakfast of warm bread, smoked meat, and fruits was already served on silver plates.
"Morning, Zaefal, morning, Rasie," Illya greeted softly as she sat in the empty chair.
"Morning, Illya... how are you feeling?" Zaefal replied.
Rasie, who was chewing a large piece of bread, just nodded.
Illya’s movements seemed a bit stiff. She tried hard to hold back a smile and didn’t dare to look at her two comrades.
Rasie swallowed her food. She looked at Illya with a scrutinizing gaze. "You’re pretty strange this morning, Illya. What’s with your expression and your movements?? Oh, you still scared because of the purple-hair info?"
Illya flinched slightly and answered, "N-no. I’m fine, I’m fine, Rasie!"
"Are you sure, Illya?" Zaefal chimed in, his tone more serious. He put down his knife and fork. "Your expression looks strange today... I can’t tell if it’s a sad or happy expression... Focus, Illya. We have an important meeting with the alliance today. You have to be in your best condition."
Zaefal paused for a moment and raised his eyebrow slightly. "Oh yeah... I’m a little curious about what Fyar told you. Your ear was quite red after Fyar whispered something to you."
"Oh, that?!- uh, that was nothing, Zaefal, nothing at all!" Illya jolted, her cheeks and ears turning red again.
Illya avoided their gazes, focusing on the plate in front of her. "I... I’m fine. Really. Maybe just lack of sleep," she answered.
"Eh, what do you mean, Zaefal?" Rasie looked at Zaefal.
Zaefal sighed. "Well, yesterday when you were crying-"
"I wasn’t crying!!! I was angry!!" Rasie denied.
Zaefal gave a small laugh. "Yes, yes, when you were angry and hid your face on the table, Fyar whispered something to Illya..."
"Ohh," Rasie raised her eyebrows and gave Illya a mischievous smile. "And then? And then?"
Zaefal continued, "After that, Fyar seemed to smile at Illya, and Illya’s face looked red."
Rasie’s smile widened. She moved her face a little closer to Illya. "Ohh?! What was it?! What did he say, Illya?! Tell me tell me!"
Illya pushed Rasie’s face away from her while stammering, "N-no, it was nothing!!! He just told me to be careful!! Seriously!! Seriously!!"
Zaefal smiled, watching the two of them. Thank goodness, Rasie is back to her normal self and Illya seems to be okay. He let out a sigh of relief. "Alright. Eat your breakfast. We leave in an hour."
Tuesday night. The "Rusty Rat" Underground Arena, Dark Town District.
The air underground was hot and stuffy, filled with the smell of sweat, and a faint scent of blood. Hundreds of spectators thugs, gamblers, and Dark Town residents looking for brutal entertainment were crammed into the stone stands that circled a dirt arena. In the center of the arena, a large bonfire blazed, its flames licking upward, serving as the only main light source that created long, dancing shadows.
In one of the dark corners of the arena, Fyar, now known as James, was warming up. He wore rough, all-black clothing, his purple hair tied back haphazardly. He wasn’t stretching his muscles like other fighters. He just stood still, looking around, mapping the arena in his head: every inch of ground, the position of the bonfire, and the escape routes.
In the slightly elevated VIP stands, Kail the leader sat with a wide grin, bags of coins ready on his table. Not far from him, in a darker section of the stands, an unknown man dressed in all white with intricate gold embroidery observed the arena calmly.
A bald man with a hoarse voice amplified by a simple magic artifact jumped into the center of the arena.
"ALRIGHT, YOU BICTHASSSSSSSS!!!" he shouted, his voice resounding. "THE OPENING MATCH OF THE ’BLOOD FESTIVAL’ IS ABOUT TO FUACKING BEGIN!!!!!"
The crowd cheered. Coins were thrown at the bookies who were shouting out bets.
"In the red corner, a fighter you all know, the destroyer from the docks... GROM ’THE STONE HAND’!"
A giant man with huge muscles and twin axes stepped in, roaring at the audience, who roared back.
"AND IN THE BLUE CORNER!" the announcer continued. "A mysterious newcomer who has managed to catch Boss Kail’s attention!! Give a big welcome to... STARFALL!"
Fyar opened his eyes. He walked slowly to the center of the arena.
Starfall... A Falling Star... How ironic. Well, I guess the name from that strange man isn’t bad... he thought, a cynical smile hidden behind his white mask.
I wonder what Illya is doing now... I can’t believe I’m confessed to a girl..
"LET THE FIGHT BEGIN!"
Grom wasted no time. He roared and immediately charged forward, swinging both his axes brutally.
Fyar remained calm. He stepped to the side, letting the first axe swing pass just a few centimeters from his face. He ducked under the second swing. His movements were efficient and very precise. He was observing his opponent’s rage-filled attack patterns.
He’s not using any powers... is his level below 15? Fyar thought to himself.
The crowd began to jeer. "FIGHT, YOU LOSER!" "DON’T JUST RUN!"
Grom grew angrier. He swung his axe horizontally with all his might.
Now.
Just as the swing came, Fyar muttered, "Neutralize." He then took a step forward, into the attack’s range. His hand moved quickly and struck Grom’s wrist with his knuckles.
KRAK!
A clear sound of a bone cracking was heard. Grom screamed in pain, his axe falling from his paralyzed hand. Before he could react, Fyar had already spun behind him and kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel.
Fyar didn’t stop. He swung his elbow hard into the nape of Grom’s neck.
THUD!
The giant man collapsed forward, his face hitting the dirt. He was unconscious.
A total silence enveloped the arena for three seconds.
Then, an explosion of cheers and curses mixed together. The fight was over in less than ten seconds.
Fyar stood tall in the center of the arena, looking down at his fallen opponent.
Instant 70 gold coins... he thought.
He then turned, his white mask scanning the rowdy crowd.
In the stands, Kail was laughing his head off as he swept a pile of winnings into his bag. "Kid!!!!!! Good, good, hahahahaha, you really are special FUCK YEAH!!!!!" he yelled.
In the dark corner, the man in white just gave a single, slow nod, his eyes never leaving Fyar’s figure.
Fyar turned and walked out of the arena without a word, ignoring the announcer who was calling out his new name. "STARFALL!!! AMAZING!! With this victory, he advances to the round of 16 to face the red warrior from the west!"