The crimson stain blooming across Valen's chest seemed to mock Bianca's efforts. She moved with a furious grace, a whirlwind of steel aimed at every vulnerable point she could discern, yet the towering beast hunter remained stubbornly upright. Each parry, each slice that drew more blood, only fueled her frustration. (Damn it! Two minutes of relentless attacks with his own massive sword, and he's still standing! The most I've managed is to make him drop to one knee for a breath, but that's it! I even aimed for vital spots, but his endurance is wild. This guy doesn't just hunt beasts… he IS a beast). Bianca's lungs burned, each inhale a ragged gasp.
Valen, a grotesque canvas of his own blood, remained standing, his unseeing eyes fixed somewhere beyond her. He casually wiped a smear of red from his cheek with the back of his hand. "You're right," he conceded, his voice surprisingly steady despite the evident pain. "I underestimated you. You're strong, I'll give you that. But the case still remains the same. Whether I can see or not doesn't matter. You either put me down with your attacks, or you keep attacking and find out your efforts are pointless." He punctuated his statement with a wet cough, a fleck of crimson staining the dusty arena floor.
Bianca stared at him, her anger warring with a grudging respect. Despite his bravado, she could see the subtle tremor in his stance, the way he favored one leg. He was hurting, badly. "Look," she said, her voice softer now, a hint of concern lacing her tone. "This isn't going to end well for you." She paused, her gaze searching his bloodied face. "During the fight, you asked me why I wanted to win this tournament. Now, I want to return the question. Why do you want to win so badly that you'd put your body on the line like this? And at the same time, refuse to fight back?"
Valen's thoughts whirled, the question striking a chord he had almost forgotten. (She's right… why did I? I came here… but the red katana, being called the Sword Master… those weren't the real reasons. So why did I push myself so hard, even after… why?)
Before he could grasp the elusive answer, a sharp, clear female voice cut through the murmuring crowd. "Valen!"
Valen's head snapped up, a flicker of shock registering on his bloodied features. He knew that voice. Brynn? A wave of disbelief washed over him. He strained his unseeing eyes towards the sound.
Then, more voices joined in, a chorus of familiar cheers. He could pick out the distinct tones of people from his hometown, the people he had protected, the families he had helped. "We're here, honey!" Brynn's voice called out again, laced with emotion. "Everyone is supporting you right now! Don't give up!"
A wave of realization crashed over Valen. That's it. The reason, buried beneath layers of habit and a misplaced sense of duty, resurfaced with startling clarity. (I came here to protect them. The people I love, the people who trust me. A bitter smile touched his lips. I always thought I had to be the strongest, the one who stood between them and danger. But it's clear now… I don't have to carry that burden alone anymore. There are stronger fighters here, fighters who actually desire the title of Sword Master. I don't want that. I just… I feared they weren't strong enough to protect themselves. But seeing this… fighting Bianca… I realize I was wrong. They'll be alright.)
With a deep breath, Valen finally opened his eyes. The world swam into focus, a blurry, crimson-tinged landscape. Bianca remained in her fighting stance, her expression a mixture of confusion and wary anticipation. The cheers from Valen's supporters intensified, a surge of renewed hope washing through their ranks. Rider, however, looked increasingly anxious, realizing Bianca's carefully laid plan had been disrupted.
But to everyone's utter surprise, Valen turned towards the sound of Brynn's voice, a genuine smile gracing his bloodied face. He gave a thumbs-up to his people, a gesture of reassurance. Then, turning back to Bianca, he said, his voice clear and resolute, "I give up."
A stunned silence descended upon the arena. The murmuring stopped, the cheers died in throats. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath. Rider's jaw dropped. He had wanted Bianca to win more than anything, but this… this wasn't how he had envisioned it.
In the ensuing silence, a low chuckle escaped Valen's lips, the sound echoing strangely in the vast space. He smiled genuinely at Bianca. "You impressed me here. You're not weak at all. None of you are." He gestured vaguely towards the other remaining competitors. "So I want you to keep fighting. Fight until you are ready to become a champion. It's anyone's game now. Zack, Tanker, Tusk, Enshou, Bianca… I leave everyone in your hands. Please… take care of them."
Tears streamed down Brynn's face. Slowly, deliberately, she rose from her seat and began to clap. The sound, initially solitary, echoed through the stunned crowd. Then, one by one, the people from Valen's hometown joined in, their applause a wave of appreciation for his sacrifice, his strength, and his understanding of his own limitations. Gradually, hesitantly, more people in the arena began to clap, acknowledging the weight of his decision and the lives he had undoubtedly saved in the past.
Bianca, however, shook her head, her brow furrowed in disbelief. "No… you can't just say you lose! I wanted to win on my own merit!"
Valen met her gaze, his expression gentle but firm. "I did say if you wanted to win, you had to attack me. And if you couldn't put me down, you win. Well… you did something more than just putting me down. You impressed me. You made me remember why I came here in the first place. I don't know your reasons for being in this tournament, Bianca, but I have a feeling they are far more important than mine. So… you win this one."
From the royal viewing chambers, Azreal's voice, amplified by unseen magic, cut through the applause. "And with the forfeit of Valen, Bianca wins the third round, securing her spot in the semi-finals!"
A roar erupted from the crowd. "She did it! I told you she could do it!" Rider yelled, grabbing Aingo and shaking him vigorously in his excitement. Aingo, jolted from his detached observation, scowled. "Keep shaking me, and I'll bite your arm of", he growled, his threat leaving no room for misinterpretation. Rider, remembering Aingo's less-than-conventional displays of affection, immediately released him.
As Valen began to leave the ring, supported by the weight of his injuries, Bianca called out to him. He turned, a questioning look on his bloodied face. Before he could speak, Bianca rushed forward and enveloped him in a tight hug. Valen was taken aback for a moment, then a warm smile touched his lips, and he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. Just as he began to relax, Bianca abruptly punched him squarely in his already bruised ribs. Valen doubled over with a gasp, but Bianca simply grinned. "Thank you… I guess," she said, her tone a mix of gratitude and playful aggression.
Valen straightened up, a wry frown on his face. "It wasn't just for you," he said, his voice slightly strained. "And besides… this isn't the end of the journey. You still have a long way to go." He continued his slow walk towards the edge of the ring, two guards moving to assist him towards the medical center.
As he passed, he came face to face with Zack, who stood with his arms folded, his expression utterly impassive. Valen offered a tired smile. "Didn't expect it to end like this, huh?"
Zack's gaze remained neutral. "It doesn't matter to me what you do."
"Yeah," Valen chuckled softly. "You're that type of guy. Your match is up next. Good luck." He continued walking, but Zack's next words stopped him in his tracks.
"But…"
Valen paused, turning slightly to look at Zack.
"I did want you to win," Zack said, his voice quiet, almost grudging.
A genuine smile spread across Valen's face. He nodded once, then continued his exit.
With Valen gone and the crowd still buzzing with the unexpected turn of events, Azreal's voice boomed through the arena once more. "With that, we look towards our final match of the quarter-finals! Zack versus Tusk!"
A wave of excited screams erupted from a section of the crowd, where young women held up hand-drawn posters adorned with Zack's name and declarations of affection. Rider, watching the display, couldn't suppress a jealous frown.
Zack stepped into the tournament ring, his usual stoic demeanor firmly in place, though a flicker of something unreadable crossed his eyes. Tusk, still visibly shaken, shuffled into the arena, his movements slow and hesitant. He kept glancing nervously around.
Zack broke the silence, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You know what, Tusk? You're the worst Big Brother ever."
Tusk stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at Zack.