Drekor immediately forwent any formalities, losing his cool, "A Soma Lum?! Jeremiah, you've gone too far! I will personally fight you if you're itching so badly!"

Just as Drekor was going over the ring table in a fit of rage, Reigan pulled him back in a sudden, almost imperceptible moment, sighing deeply, "You youngsters have far too much energy. It almost makes me envious. However, now is certainly not the time for such trivial business. We must conclude this Assembly, and make haste on preparing for the incoming Invasion…"

Just as every leader in the room were about to nod their heads, Joran spoke up one last time, "No, if Jeremiah wants to fight, then we can fight. It would be better to finish this without leaving a bad taste in anyone's mouths."

At this, Cato and Rohi both glanced over at Joran and gave him more meaningful looks, while Jeremiah could hardly hold his excitement any longer, his eyes bulging out with glee, "Yes! Yes of course! Perhaps you aren't cursed with shit for brains, 'Joker'!"

Before anything else was said, Jeremiah vaulted over the table on his side, and walked towards the center, brandishing a seven-foot red emblazoned naginata in hand, slightly larger than himself, and disregarded Vera after a slight bow to her. Vera ignored the burlesque man and made her way towards where her seat was, opposite of Audra. She shot a short glance towards Joran and Reigan, but remained silent. Herk had gone through several emotions, embarrassment and confusion being chief among them. The rest of the Assembly mostly remained interested in the sudden Soma Lum that the two youngsters spontaneously begun. Reigan lowered his voice and spoke discreetly to Joran.

"I think I have to disagree with you not having shit for brains… What are you planning here, Joran?"

Joran sighed, letting the rest of the rage he vented about his parents out, and whispered, "Jeremiah will always hate me, and will probably always be against me at every turn, I have to at least give him this. And besides, it might be my only chance."

Reigan raised his brow, confused, "Only chance at what? Getting cleaved by a Gouriki Naginata?"

"No, the fact that every leader is here. It's my only chance to prove I'm me, and not just 'the Joker'."

Reigan, for the first time since leaving the Sparring Yards in the Agile Palace, softened his eyes, and pulled Joran to face him, looking down with a ghost of a smile that almost seemed to be as genuine as when he looked at his own son, "Joran, your fortune is enough to make anyone envious. Yet to you, it was a burden, and a curse. Yet here you stand, ready to defy the world,? Even if you lose, I have newfound respect for you, Joran."

Joran could feel tears threatening to streak down his face, but he held them back, and simply nodded once, before turning back towards the center of the concave, where Jeremiah finally steadied himself with the red naginata, slouching slightly and both hands on the staff as he held it pointed towards Joran. With his eyes closed, Joran steadied his breathing, and cooled off to the point where he could almost feel the garden's breeze… Almost.

Before he could vault over the table, however, Drekor gripped his arm, and handed him his own golden Dao, "You should probably go in there with a weapon… Don't you think?"

Joran let out a shaky chuckle, and gripped the hilt of the Dao, feeling the resemblance to their training swords, "Heh… Thanks."

Drekor smiled for a second before turning grim, "A Soma Lum isn't like how we trained. Once you start, it's over when one of you yield. Anything is fair game. There's a good chance he's gotten the hang of the Heavenly Clout Arts and Earthbound Spear Style… Be careful, okay?"

"Of course. I've got a little bit of the Draconic Blade Style, right?"

Both Reigan and Drekor responded synchronously, "Eh…"

"… What a vote of confidence."

With that, Joran vaulted over his side of the table, and stepped out in the now duel ring he and Jeremiah would fight in. Although it wasn't terribly large, Joran could feel the space around him grow as he got closer to the center, letting his mind wander for a moment..

… Back to the first time he and Jeremiah met.

Although they had indirectly met on the first day they had arrived at their Class, Joran and Jeremiah never actually introduced each other, until a week and a half had passed since they'd started.

The last day Joran showed up in Class.

Jeremiah, even when he was much younger, still towered over most of the members of the Class, and approached the much smaller Joran in his corner seat that he had sat in every day, quiet and absentminded from the rest of the Class.

"Yo! I heard from another student that you're actually from the Gouriki Family, just like me!"

Joran looked askance towards the then-cheery Jeremiah, and shrugged, "Yeah, I guess I am."

Jeremiah's brow twitched for a second, but continued on, "Come now, we're brothers in the same family! Tell me, who are your parents?"

"… They're dead. I was taken under care by my mother's sister until we were sent here."

Now Jeremiah felt a pang of sadness and guilt, but pressed on, "Well, I'm sorry to hear that… Just let me know if you need anything, as I will be the Young Master of the Heavenly Clout Family!"

With that declaration, a few people around Jeremiah gave cheer as a sort of hype squad, while Joran took one good look at Jeremiah, and faintly scoffed. However faint it was, Jeremiah heard it, and his façade splintered.

"Hah? You scoff? At me?!"

Joran shrunk back a little, even with his face as ashen as it was before Jeremiah approached him, "Look, if there was gonna be help, it should've happened when they died. How would they give a shit after the fact. They're not there! So why should I give a shit about the Gouriki Family?"

Jeremiah immediately moved up to Joran, and pulled him up by the collar, getting right up in his face.

Jeremiah cracked his neck, and smirked, "With that kind of attitude, you're not even Nascent, are you?"

Joran nearly spat right in his face, but kept himself restrained, shaking in Jeremiah's hold instead, "I was Rooted. But it doesn't matter anymore. My family is dead, and I could care less about anyone else who would say otherwise."

Jeremiah threw Joran into the desk, both furious, but also with a hint of confusion in his eyes, and audibly scoffed, "So you don't care about giving face. That and how pitiful you look; you have no chance to even amount to anything."

"I don't want anything, I'm here to find myself, and it seems like it won't be in this Class with a pretentious asshole like you."

"So what, you're gonna just go outside and do nothing?"

"… Yeah. I'll do just that, Jeremiah Gouriki."

…

Joran closed the gap to less than a dozen feet between the two, separated by misfortune, brought together again by fate. Jeremiah spat at the ground, standing proudly against Joran, his eyes growing wilder.

"I was wondering if you were done smooching. Or were you groveling for you to not fight, instead?"

Joran readied himself, in the same stance he used to face off Drekor earlier that day. His feet set at the same interval as his shoulders, the sword given to him brandished directly in front of him. It was the only response he'd give to Jeremiah. Ever since the first time they met, Joran had cemented a deep-seated hatred for the system, and the way the strong were all that mattered. The haughtiness it bred, and the apathy the people below them received. He put it all away as he calmed himself and entered a state of calm to fight.

Suddenly his eyes went berserk, and Jeremiah growled, "Heh, suit yourself!"

In a flash, Jeremiah lunged the entire distance between the two, his spear violently shaking the air, and heading straight for Joran's legs to sweep him. His eyes widened in surprise, Joran immediately parried the attack, forcing the spear to the side as he ducked the opposite way. But before he could catch a breath, the spear came whizzing back from the glanced parry he did, forcing Joran to back off several more feet away.

It was his first time fighting a spear user, but immediately he could feel the oppressiveness it held. The hours spent fighting Drekor showed him what it meant to be on equal footing of reach and lethality. A sword is versatile, and can be used in a wide array of techniques, from an arsenal of offense and defense; the cost coming with the short range it possesses in comparison to the spear. A spear lacked defense, but if mastered, can force opponents to stay at a distance where they cannot even threaten the spear user.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

That one singular exchange was all Joran needed to experience to understand that he had to completely negate a standing fight, and get inside Jeremiah's reach.

Once Jeremiah steadied himself from the lunge attack he made, he locked eyes with Joran and began another lunge. Joran parried the spear just barely, the metal scraping along each other as his sword scraped along the blade and then staff, before he practically slid along the ground to swing at Jeremiah, whose spear was still in the middle of momentum in a lunge.

At least that's what Joran assumed, until Jeremiah ushered an inhuman amount of strength, and pulled the spear back to do a flourish, that swept the entire area around him; knocking Joran off balance and then prone, his blade mere inches away from connecting to Jeremiah's torso.

"AHAHAHA, such a rookie mistake! You really think I'm going to let you get such a cheap shot in like that? A young master of a Family can't be beaten by such a move."

While Joran steadied himself on the ground, his elbows keeping him up, he brandished the Sacred Sights Art and became immediately fearful of what he saw. An engorged amount of blood rushed through Jeremiah at an insane speed, his heart beating at a rate Joran thought would be impossible; the muscles seemingly grew within their confines, and looked more powerful on their own than anything Joran had on himself. In using the Arts however, the golden hue of his eyes shone brilliantly, at which Jeremiah could only taunt with a cackle.

"Oh? And you have Sacred Sights Art? Tell me, tell me, you really mean to tell me you could beat me with a non-combat Art? Don't spit on my face."

Vera snorted to herself quietly, annoyed at the sneer. Joran gritted his teeth, and started to get back up, before Jeremiah tripped him again.

"Oi… Do you really think I'm gonna let you get back up? When you're prone and so easy to bully from here? Just yield. You've already lost," as if to emphasize his point, Jeremiah yawned exaggeratively.

Frustration building up, Joran tried again, with Jeremiah tripping him again. And again. And again. And with each time, Jeremiah mocked him, lashing out harsh insults, drunk on his own abilities, and satisfying his sadistic urge to bully Joran, like he had wished to do every time he could see Joran after he left the Class.

The rest of the concave had either grown disinterested in the fight, or closed their eyes at the downright joke of a fight it turned out to be. Rohi and Herk were equally ashamed of Jeremiah's demeanor, frankly thankful that the concave was a private meeting. Audra and the red-haired man smirked, enjoying the one-sided fight up to here.

Each time Joran fell back to the ground, however, there was another battle going on entirely.

Desperately, he tried to think back on the dozens of times him and Drekor practiced. He'd get up in a different way every time. Getting up from a jump, only to be tripped. Picking himself up from a push up onto his feet, tripped. A tornado kick to get momentum up on his feet, tripped. It didn't matter what he tried; it was futile.

All Joran could think of, was how fast he could've been if he had just waited and studied the Sovereign Realm Arts. The regret he felt was stowed away by the constant tripping, and the constant playback in his memory to how Drekor moved.

The elegance of it, yet the nothingness that was perceived within the speed.

… Like a blade moving on its own, one with the user.

Finally, after almost a minute went on as Joran tried to get up yet again, he slammed against the ground, and felt that realization hit him. Suddenly, he felt as if he understood how fast Drekor was truly going. It wasn't speed that Joran lacked, it was the elegance, the emptiness of the mind and soul.

As Jeremiah laughed maniacally, he looked back down to see Joran trying to get back up, now suddenly bored and annoyed.

"Hey, seriously, this is getting ol-"

His eyes widened immediately as he felt a short gust of wind whizz behind him, and a sound of a sword sliding by his spear, knocking it back. Joran had appeared from the ground directly behind him, his Dao fully brandished and ready to pierce through Jeremiah.

At this, those who were still watching stood up in absolute shock. Those who were more attentive realized he had been using Sacred Sights Art, which meant he comprehended his abilities through the Divine Eye Sect's practices. And yet… He had just used the Sovereign Realm Arts! Albeit an extremely basic form of it, but he used a second art!

Drekor and Reigan's eyes bugged out in absolute shock, standing up from their defeated posture, revitalized in so many ways, they couldn't even handle the flood of emotions, "That form!"

Jeremiah grunted in shock, but kept his cool, and immediately vaulted using his spear to get away from Joran, flourishing it as he was in mid-air to keep Joran from getting any closer.

"You?! How can you use more than one art?!"

Jeremiah knew the answer, but the truth was something he refused to accept, especially with how he could have ended the Soma Lum more than once. He knew he had sorely underestimated the Joker… No, underestimated Joran.

Joran gave no response, as his eyes were just as wide as anyone else's. The realization hit him that he suddenly was able to use a little bit of the Realm Arts. He could actually move forward on his own, and not just with the joker card that was given to him as a cursed crutch. He looked down at the Dao, before readying back into the stance from the start. Jeremiah snorted, and leaned backwards, the spear smacked onto the ground, the shaft creaking and groaning from the anger he was channeling into it.

Joran's golden hued eyes could see the strain that was beginning to build up from Jeremiah's usage of his Clout Arts. A human body was still a human body after all. There's only so much it can endure.

Joran rushed forward, unsure if he could rely on a miracle twice, and swung the sword downwards against the spear normally. With a grunt, Jeremiah launched the spear upwards and towards Joran, ignoring the Dao, diving straight for a fatal hit on Joran's chest this time. Upon seeing this, Joran tried to duck down, while hitting the shaft of the spear with his palm, pushing off to drive the Dao into the shoulder of Jeremiah. With the Dao connected however, Jeremiah only grunted in slight pain. Dull pain.

"…?!" Every instinct in Joran told him to jump out of the way, and in a split second, the spear slammed down into the ground, rippling the floor with shockwaves.

Joran jumped out of the way in the nick of time, stumbling backwards as the ground shattered along the wave the spear produced.

… Did he just produce a mini earthquake?!

Joran couldn't help but be startled, and upon inspection of Jeremiah, could only be surprised even more. The damage he inflicted was no light wound. Yet Jeremiah's condition didn't worsen in the slightest. In fact, it almost seemed to have... intensified?

Both Reigan and Herk looked with knowing looks in their eyes as they were shocked that the Young Master had mastered the Heavenly Clout Arts so thoroughly to utilize Kajiba no Bakachikara [Adrenaline Rush]. The ability to mentally close off the mind and nullify any pain inflicted, while also pushing the body to the absolute limit, with adrenaline coursing through tenfold. The rest of the leaders circling the ring were floored at the sudden, double reversal produced by Jeremiah. Herk felt a tinge of concern for the unleashed Jeremiah, while Reigan stood up, almost spitting out his words.

"Alright, this is enough now!" Reigan shouted out, alarmed at Jeremiah's ultimate art form utilization.

But nothing would stop Jeremiah now. With the adrenaline, his conscious was consumed with the Fight or Flight response, and was ready to take down his enemy, with no chance of fleeing from his golden chance in beating this embarrassment to the Family. His Family. The Joker was someone he sneered and mocked at, who had given up on ever being worth anything to his Family, to the Gouriki Family? What a joke! This was no ironic twist; it was a farce to him! Jeremiah huffed as he pulled the spear out of the ground, leaving a deep gash in the floor, he crumbled the ground beneath him as he lurched forward, at a speed comparable to even one who could use the Realm Arts. Joran could barely react as he stood in front of someone who was enraged and humiliated to the point where he would frankly stop at nothing but possibly his death.

Joran could only recall one thing in his mind, thinking back to the mockery Jeremiah made.

"So you don't care about giving face. That and how pitiful you look; you have no chance to even amount to anything."

Joran could feel the world around him become still, as if a painting. The calm within his mind became frigid, realizing that he wanted to fight Jeremiah regardless of the circumstances. Being able to show Jeremiah up had been a dream he never even thought of, until these brutally short 7 months. Seven months between the Joran who stubbornly refused to be a part of this world, to the Joran that stood here now, who was forced onto the stage, refusing to yield all the same. Joran took a step forward, and began to slide the sword up next to his face, precisely and astutely, to execute a familiar move.

Drekor's face paled, as did the rest of the concave as they saw the smaller man stand ready to take on the might of a Gouriki fully enabled, "You fucking idiot!"

In the instance of time between Joran and Jeremiah, there was only one criterion that had to be fulfilled for Dragon's Wisdom to fail. The loss of intent. The Draconic Blade Style dedicated and emphasized on intent and emptiness of the mind, for the express purpose of using the Dao to its full extent, but also to prevent the wielder from faltering. In the face of a lumbering projectile holding a spear, almost anyone would falter.

But Joran had reached a moment of purity, a moment where he and the blade were the same; embracing the fact he was weak, but also embracing the resolution to never yield to this world. If it was for his friends, or for the people who have come along to help him and guide him, never again would he falter for them. The Dao almost seemed to shine as it mirrored the Naginata, slamming directly into the face of it, almost denying reality its truth as the spear bent from its own momentum being reflected back, just about shattering the shaft of the spear. Jeremiah, who was behind the spear, was suddenly sent flying across the entire building, slamming into the wall up in the audience area; leaving an indent that remarkably resembled his visage. Jeremiah flopped off the wall and was knocked out cold on the ground, almost a hundred feet away from the concave, and the rest of the people who had just witnessed this.

Reigan could feel himself age slightly, while Vera, Cato, and Herk all shared similar semblances of utter shock and the fiery red-haired man and Audra almost stood up cheering at the outcome. The rest of the leaders simply didn't realize what had just happened.

"Jeremiah!" The voice that broke the silence was finally Herk, who ran up to his son with reckless abandon, forgetting about the Assembly altogether.

Joran broke free from his state of mind, and looked around, remembering the place he was in, and breathed deeply before speaking up to the rest of the leaders, "I am supposed to be the Joker. I was given a card I had no desire for; a fate I had turned my back on. I might be here helping you all to succeed, but I am never going to be subservient to any of you. You, who would uphold a world that shames one for even being born weak. You, who would care little for those at the bottom of this cursed hierarchy. You, who would wish to protect the people without even letting them know they need to be protected.

Joran finished his impromptu speech, the last of it echoing into silence, and the ring of leaders being put aback by the youngster's declaration of slander. Reigan wholly understood Joran, having come from a similar background, but the rest of them, even Herk who was attending to his unconscious son's injuries, looked on in bewilderment.

No one said anything, except for a lone set of applause off up along the red set of steps, the source being that of an apparent old man, with long gray hair falling over his back, his red pupils betraying a haughtiness that his otherwise modest appearance would portray. His orange-red robes seemed to end perfectly at the ground he stood, and his hands cupped, hidden under the robes' sleeves. The design of his robes were fiery, and apparent flames seemed to flow from the center to the outer pieces. Everyone, even Joran knew who this was.

As his voice rang out, an almost raspy, yet full sound emanated, that made Joran feel chills down his back, "Such a splendid show of force! Befitting of the one who is the Joker! This one, Aurumn Hinoyagi, is most certainly impressed by you, Joker Joran."