Gabriel had been waiting for this moment—waiting for the chance to finally stop holding back. The air around the arena was thick with anticipation, and as Velar sauntered forward, basking in the crowd’s cheers, Gabriel stood still, his focus sharpening with each step Velar took. The tension between them had built over countless clashes, every insult and exchange fueling the anger simmering just beneath Gabriel's calm exterior. It threatened to rise now, to take over, but he wouldn’t let it. This wasn’t the time for reckless fury. He would channel that rage, control it, and make it his weapon.
Velar flashed a sinister grin, but Gabriel only responded with a calm, measured smile of his own. He walked over to the weapons rack, his eyes scanning for two identical blades. Picking them up, he twirled them in his hands, feeling their weight and balance. Dual-wielding required absolute harmony between the swords, and Gabriel knew that even the slightest imbalance could disrupt his rhythm. He swapped the blades between hands, testing their feel, until he was certain they were perfect.
Satisfied, Gabriel dragged the tips of the swords through the sand as he made his way toward the battle circle. With a single powerful leap, he landed in front of Velar, their eyes locking. For a fleeting moment, Gabriel caught a flicker of doubt in Velar’s eyes as he noticed the twin swords. It was quickly followed by a scoff, but the reaction came too late to hide the fear lurking beneath. In that instant, Gabriel didn’t see the bully—he saw the boy. Uncertain, desperate, and terrified of failure. The crowd saw a fight, but Gabriel saw something deeper: the unraveling of a boy who had never truly learned to stand on his own.
"Two swords won’t save you!" Velar taunted, but there was an edge to his voice.
Gabriel gripped the hilts tightly, his knuckles whitening. His voice was calm, but the promise of violence was unmistakable. "I’m going to hurt you today. I want you to understand that."
Velar laughed, loud and mocking. "I'll crush you just like I did, Ryn."
Gabriel’s every instinct screamed to unleash the power he could feel coursing just beneath his skin, to destroy Velar in a way that would ensure he could never hurt anyone again. But no. This fight wasn’t about power—it was about skill, about everything Gabriel had trained for. He would win this on his own terms, without the crutch of anything but his hard-earned abilities.
“There’s a price for what you’ve done. You think you’re strong, bullying the other students, but I see it—you’re weak. Afraid of your father, jealous of your brother’s success. You know you’ll never be good enough, and you know you’re not loved. Fear—it’s all you’ve ever known. You think it’s power, but it’s a cage. After today, when you look in the mirror, you won’t see a victor. You’ll see the child you’ve always been.”
Velar’s eyes widened, evidently shocked by the boldness of Gabriel’s words. No one had ever dared speak to him like that before. His hands clenched, his body trembling as he tried to contain his fury. He was already stepping forward, itching for the fight to begin.
Gabriel stayed calm. He knew Velar couldn’t control himself when he was angry—and Gabriel was going to use that to his advantage.
The bell rang, and the noise of the crowd faded into the background as Gabriel focused, his senses sharpening. Velar lunged forward with a wild yell, but Gabriel had anticipated the move. He met Velar’s sword with one blade, deflecting the strike, while his other sword slammed into Velar’s shield with a resounding crack.
Velar’s attack was frantic, his strikes hard but sloppy, as he tried to force Gabriel back with his shield. Gabriel, however, moved with precision and grace. His movements were smooth, calculated. He incorporated everything he had learned: the rhythmic forms from the academy, the brutal efficiency of the soldiers, and the flowing dance from Tunk.
Gabriel wasn’t the fastest, but he controlled his body with precision. Whenever Velar struck, Gabriel twisted and angled himself so the blows would miss by mere inches. It required constant focus, but it was what he had trained for—endlessly.
Velar’s shield was formidable. He was the best in the academy at using it, and Gabriel knew that if he only had one sword, he’d be at a disadvantage.
“Is that all you’ve got, hiding behind your shield?” Gabriel shouted, his voice carrying over the clashing of their weapons.
Velar roared in frustration and attacked with even more ferocity. Gabriel smiled. He wanted Velar to see that no matter how hard he fought, Gabriel could outmaneuver him.
Velar’s initial strikes were wild and uncoordinated, as though desperation had taken over. But just when Gabriel began to think he had the fight under control, Velar’s movements changed. With a sudden, calculated step, Velar feinted a high strike. Gabriel, prepared for another reckless blow, raised one sword to block—only to realize too late that Velar had tricked him.
Velar’s real attack came low, his shield crashing into Gabriel’s midsection, knocking the wind out of him. Stumbling back, Gabriel struggled to regain his footing as Velar pressed the advantage, following up with a quick strike that nearly clipped Gabriel’s shoulder.
For the first time in the fight, Gabriel found himself on the defensive, his mind racing to adjust. Velar wasn’t as mindless as he appeared. There was cunning beneath the surface—buried beneath the arrogance and bravado. Gabriel had underestimated him, and now Velar was exploiting that lapse.
Velar grinned, sensing Gabriel’s hesitation. "You didn’t expect that, did you?" he taunted, his voice carrying a renewed confidence.
But Gabriel quickly regrouped. He wouldn’t let this momentary surprise unnerve him. Velar had played his trick, and it had worked—but that wouldn’t be enough to win. Gabriel adjusted his stance, his focus sharper now, determined to remind Velar that a single moment of cleverness wouldn’t decide this fight.
They exchanged more blows, and then suddenly, with a powerful swing, Gabriel twirled one sword above his head to gain momentum before bringing it down hard. Velar raised his shield to block it, but Gabriel had anticipated this. His other sword struck Velar’s midriff, landing a solid blow. Velar grunted in pain.
Gabriel was relieved the match wasn’t called for a death blow. He didn’t want it to end yet. He stepped in close and punched Velar hard in the forearm, the one holding the sword. Velar cried out, but refused to let go.
Recovering quickly, Velar rammed his shield into Gabriel’s shoulder. Gabriel staggered back, absorbing the hit, but it didn’t faze him.
In one swift move, Gabriel tossed one of his swords high into the air, then grabbed Velar’s shield and pulled. Off-balance, Velar stumbled forward, and Gabriel seized the moment, delivering another punch to Velar’s forearm. This time, the pain was too much—Velar dropped his sword.
Gabriel caught his falling sword effortlessly, now wielding two blades again while Velar was left with only his shield.
The crowd erupted in wild cheers, but Gabriel barely heard them. He was putting on a show, but the finale hadn’t arrived yet.
Velar frantically reached for his sword in the sand, but Gabriel gave him no chance. In a flurry of strikes, faster than a breath, Gabriel battered Velar's shield with relentless blows, each one landing with the force of a hammer. It was as if Velar had become nothing more than a training dummy beneath Gabriel’s assault.
Gabriel could see the fear in Velar’s eyes, his breath ragged as he struggled to absorb the shock coursing through his arm—and the greater shock of facing Gabriel’s cold brutality.
A smile crept onto Gabriel’s face. He slashed with one sword, aiming for Velar’s midriff, then followed up with a strike toward his legs. Velar, panicking, lowered his shield to block the blow. But Gabriel had anticipated it. He stepped in close and head-butted Velar square in the face.
The sickening crunch of Velar’s nose breaking echoed in the arena. Gabriel stepped back, his grin wide and toothy, as blood poured from Velar’s nose and tears welled in his eyes.
“You really thought I’d let it all go?” Gabriel’s voice dropped to a cold, venomous tone. “There’s one thing you should’ve known about me—I don’t forget. Every bit of pain you’ve caused me, my friends—I will return it tenfold.”
Velar’s tear-filled eyes widened in terror, like prey caught in the jaws of a predator.
Gabriel approached slowly, lazily twirling his twin swords in intricate patterns. Velar stumbled backward, step by shaky step, his gaze locked on the flashing swords. Gabriel had one more strike before the match would be called in his favor—and he intended to make it count.
“You’ll never hurt my friends again,” Gabriel said, his tone chilling. “When you see me at the Academy, you’ll keep your head down. You won’t even dare to meet my eyes. And by damned Ash… one day, I’ll come for you.”
Velar cowered, backing away like a cornered animal. “I never meant for it to go this far,” he said, his voice steady but edged with uncertainty, as if trying to regain control of a situation already slipping away.
Gabriel laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Too late for that.”
In one fluid motion, Gabriel lunged forward, his twin blades moving in a blur. Velar tried desperately to block the strikes, but his shield could only cover so much. Two swords against one shield was a losing battle, and Velar knew it. Gabriel feinted toward Velar’s legs with his right sword, and when Velar lowered his shield to block, Gabriel spun, generating momentum, and brought his left blade crashing into Velar’s head.
Gabriel stood over Velar’s unconscious body, breathing heavily, but there was no sense of triumph. The cheers of the crowd faded into a distant hum as he looked down at his fallen opponent. Velar lay crumpled in the sand, beaten, bloodied—just like Gabriel had envisioned. But the victory felt hollow.
“That was for Ryn,” he muttered, but the words caught in his throat. A part of him had believed that winning this fight would bring a sense of justice, that it would heal the anger and hurt Velar had caused. But as he stared at the blood on his knuckles and the broken figure in front of him, he felt a chill crawl up his spine.
This isn’t justice.
Gabriel took a step back, suddenly aware of the darkness that had taken root inside him. He remembered a time, not long ago, when he had sworn to never let violence define him.
Have I become what I hate? He thought back to the countless hours of training, of pushing himself beyond his limits—not just to protect those he cared about, but to make sure no one would ever hurt him again. But what if that desire for strength had twisted into something darker? What if, in his pursuit of power, he had crossed the very line he’d drawn for himself?
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Gabriel glanced at the crowd, the faces cheering for him, chanting his name. The Little Wolf. They were celebrating him as a victor, but inside, he felt like something had been lost. Violence had seeped into him, and now it clung to him, inescapable. In this world, violence wasn’t just necessary—it was the only currency that mattered. Violence for violence. An endless cycle he could no longer escape.
He soaked in the moment as he walked, catching glimpses of those around him—Lakan’s eyes wide in disbelief, Lexon shaking his head, muttering "demon" under his breath.
Lakan stepped forward from the bench and embraced him fiercely. “For Ryn.”
Gabriel returned the hug, stepping back with a nod. “For Ryn,” he echoed.
As he sat down on the bench, Gabriel let his gaze sweep across the crowd. He spotted Adrielle, her face frozen in shock, and Casena, looking away, unable to bear the violence. Aluban was pounding his chest, screaming Gabriel’s name with pride. The king nodded in approval, while the Eldorians frowned, their sharp eyes studying Gabriel’s form. Lastly, he caught Tunk’s sad smile, a look that only Gabriel would understand. It was a smile of pride but also of sorrow—Tunk knew the boy he once taught in Accamania would never be the same.
Gabriel took a deep breath, pushing the weight of his thoughts aside. There was no room for them now. He needed to focus on the next bout, a clash between two titans of the academy that would determine his final opponent.
The crowd roared as Lakan and Lexon faced off, their muscles bulging beneath their sleeveless tunics. Despite being young, they struck harder than seasoned soldiers, each blow shaking the ground. Lexon, the strongest in the class, relied on brute force, hammering away at Lakan. But Lakan, ever thoughtful, was more than just muscle. He moved with precision, showing his well-rounded skill.
It was a thrilling match, with the crowd roaring in approval at every strike. Bit by bit, however, Lakan began to seize the advantage. The bout was long, both fighters wary of the other’s strength. But in an impressive sequence, Lakan feinted to the right and jabbed to the left, catching Lexon off guard. Within moments, Lakan had landed all three decisive strikes, and the match was over.
Gabriel cheered for Lakan, though he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Lexon. Gabriel let out a breath. The final fight would not be easy. Soon, only Gabriel and Lakan remained on the bench.
“I’m glad it’s the two of us,” Lakan said.
“Me too, brother,” Gabriel replied.
“The dual swords... that’s new,” Lakan observed.
Gabriel grinned. “I figured I’d need a surprise if I was going to have a chance against you.”
Lakan was quiet for a moment, then said, “You know how much I want to win this?”
“I do,” Gabriel said cautiously, unsure where this was leading.
“You want it more, don’t you?”
Gabriel chuckled. “Everyone in our class wants to be Prime.”
Lakan shook his head. “No, it’s different from you. Your drive is something else. Even when I needed a break, you trained with the soldiers. When I rested at dusk, you strengthened your body. When I slept, you were in the library. Why, Orion? Why push yourself like this?”
Gabriel hesitated, the urge to reveal everything tugging at him. But the risk was too great, even with Lakan.
“I’ve told you before,” Gabriel began slowly, gathering his thoughts. “I want to be powerful enough that no one can ever hurt me or those I love again. Losing family like I did, fighting side by side with soldiers, watching death all around me—it changes you. I learned that the only way to keep yourself and those you care about safe is to become as stronger than everyone else.”
Lakan nodded, absorbing Gabriel’s words. “Whatever happens next, we’re brothers.”
Gabriel placed a hand on Lakan’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I’ll always have your back for the rest of my life. I know you’d do the same. Brothers.”
Lakan pulled him into a hug, and Gabriel held on, savoring the moment. It felt real. Whole.
“How do you think Ryn is doing?” Gabriel asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know,” Lakan replied. “But he’s strong. He’ll be fine.”
Gabriel nodded, though the worry lingered in his mind. “He’s strong. You’re right. He’ll pull through.”
The grandmaster’s booming voice echoed across the arena, signaling the start of their bout. Gabriel and Lakan shared a glance before walking toward the weapons rack, each step heavy with the weight of their friendship and the fight ahead. At the rack, they selected their weapons, both of them calm but focused.
Gabriel’s hands traced the hilts of twin swords as he felt their reassuring balance. Lakan, on the other hand, wielded a sword and shield — a choice that signaled caution and patience. Gabriel knew this meant the fight would be slower, more methodical. They knew each other too well to rush in blindly. But they both understood that this battle would be different from any they had fought before.
As they walked toward the center of the circle, the noise of the crowd faded, leaving only the tension of the moment between them. Gabriel and Lakan faced each other, their eyes meeting in a shared understanding. No bows were exchanged, no grand gestures. There was no need for words, no need for formalities. They knew what was at stake. This wasn’t just about proving who was stronger—it was a culmination of years of training, brotherhood, and silent promises.
Gabriel would fight to win, but he would do so with honor, knowing Lakan deserved nothing less than his best. It was not about crushing his friend—it was about showing him respect, fighting with every ounce of strength and skill he had. Their bond was stronger than this moment, stronger than the outcome. And no matter what happened, they would leave this arena as brothers.
Neither made the first strike. Both circled warily, testing each other’s resolve. Gabriel knew he couldn’t engage in a prolonged exchange. Lakan’s shield would block most of his attacks, and one heavy blow could easily knock him off balance. Instead, Gabriel decided to dart in and out, using quick, precise strikes to wear Lakan down.
Lakan smiled first, and Gabriel mirrored it. Despite the high stakes, there was joy in the fight. Here, in front of their peers, they were proving why they were the best students in the academy.
"Just like any other spar," Gabriel said between breaths.
Lakan chuckled, a lightness in his voice. "Let’s give the crowd something to chant about, then."
They nodded in unison and surged forward, clashing with a sound that echoed across the amphitheater. Sword met shield with force, but Gabriel quickly realized that Lakan was playing defensively, relying on his shield to parry most of Gabriel’s attacks. Each time Gabriel swung, Lakan blocked it effortlessly, his movements fluid, practiced.
Gabriel shifted his weight, moving into a rhythm, swinging and parrying, testing Lakan's defenses. At one point, he feinted with one sword and struck with the other, but still, nothing could break through Lakan’s solid defense.
Lakan took a step back, and dropped his shoulders, signaling a change to his friend's tactics. Gabriel readied himself, but rather than strike with the sword, Lakan slashed upward with his shield, forcing Gabriel back. Gabriel leapt, somersaulting backward through the sand, landing in a crouch with his swords at the ready.
Lakan smirked. "You can’t dodge forever, brother."
Gabriel grinned, his brow furrowing with concentration. "I’m just getting warmed up."
He pivoted on his back foot, launching himself at Lakan in a sudden offensive strike. His first blow was blocked by the shield, but Lakan followed up with a quick jab that caught Gabriel’s arm. Gabriel winced, but stayed focused. He needed to end this quickly before Lakan’s strength wore him down.
Gabriel’s expression hardened. The fun had passed. Now it was time to fight in earnest. He attacked with a flurry of strikes, moving faster than he had before. His wooden blades whistled through the air with precision and force.
Lakan struggled to keep up, frantically covering himself with the shield, dodging and parrying as best he could. But Gabriel was relentless, pushing harder with each swing.
Then, in a fleeting moment, Gabriel saw his opportunity. Lakan’s feet crossed—just for an instant—but it was enough. Gabriel faked a jab toward the shield, and as Lakan instinctively raised it, Gabriel lunged forward with his full weight, slamming into him. The force knocked Lakan off balance, sending him sprawling into the sand.
Gabriel’s momentum carried him down alongside Lakan, but he quickly realized wrestling with someone as powerful and skilled as Lakan wasn’t an option. Lakan had the advantage of strength and reach. Gabriel needed to disengage fast.
Seizing the moment, Gabriel twisted his body and rolled through the sand, creating some much-needed distance. The rough grains clung to his skin, but he moved fluidly, using the momentum of the roll to propel himself into a crouch. Without pausing, he pushed off the ground, flipping into a handstand-like position, his body arching above Lakan.
Before Lakan could fully react, Gabriel brought his legs down in a controlled strike, his heel connecting with Lakan’s stomach with a solid thud. The impact knocked the wind out of Lakan, who let out a grunt of surprise. Gabriel landed softly, already moving, knowing he couldn’t give Lakan a chance to recover.
Both of them were now on the ground, fighting not just with swords, but with every ounce of strength and agility they had.
Lakan rolled towards Gabriel, using his shield to bash into him. Gabriel instinctively brought his forearms up to block the blow, absorbing the impact, though he felt numbness spreading. Rolling backward, Gabriel quickly recovered, using the momentum to lift himself into an acrobatic flip and landing on his feet. Lakan, still struggling to stand, left himself vulnerable for a moment.
Seeing his opportunity, Gabriel aimed his next strike at Lakan’s exposed side. He only needed one more hit to win. But just as he moved in for the final blow, Lakan swept his leg, catching Gabriel off guard and knocking him flat onto his back. The fall forced one of Gabriel’s swords to become trapped beneath Lakan’s weight. Gabriel released both swords, knowing he’d need his hands free to counter Lakan’s next move.
Lakan wasted no time, swinging his sword down toward Gabriel’s chest. In a desperate move, Gabriel caught the blade with his bare hands, his muscles straining to hold it back. Lakan leaned in with his full weight, the sword slowly edging closer to Gabriel’s throat.
Gabriel’s arms trembled, unable to hold back Lakan’s sheer strength. His vision blurred with effort, the tip of the blade mere inches from his neck.
But then, the memories surged—everything he had endured, every hardship, every moment of anger and pain. He let it all fuel him. With a guttural roar, Gabriel surged with newfound strength, not just pushing the sword away but redirecting it into the sand, missing his neck by a finger’s width.
Using the moment of surprise, Gabriel bucked his hips, throwing Lakan off balance and rolling him to the side. In a flash, Gabriel scrambled to retrieve one of his swords and leapt to his feet, breathing hard but focused.
Lakan, undeterred, was back on his feet in an instant, standing strong once more, ready for the fight to continue.
They exchanged one final smile before resuming the fight. The crowd's cheers rose to a fevered pitch, the clatter of wood echoing in the arena. Gabriel knew it was time to finish this.
He crouched low, adopting a stance Tunklard had taught him, his swords held back, ready. With a sudden burst of energy, he surged forward, swinging his blades in seemingly wild arcs. The strikes came so fast and so relentlessly that all Lakan could do was dodge backward, raising his shield in defense. When Lakan tried to slam him with the shield once more, Gabriel anticipated the move.
Gabriel saw his opening as Lakan extended his shield. With quick reflexes, he planted his foot firmly against the edge of the shield and used it as a springboard. In one powerful motion, Gabriel launched himself into the air, kicking off the shield to gain height. His body twisted in midair, soaring gracefully above Lakan’s head in a controlled front flip.
As he rotated, Gabriel kept one of his wooden swords poised, calculating the perfect moment. Just as he sailed over Lakan, he brought the sword down with precision, striking Lakan squarely between the shoulder blades. The impact was enough to send Lakan stumbling forward, thrown off balance by the unexpected hit.
Gabriel landed hard on his shoulder but rolled with the momentum, standing to his feet in an instant. As he turned, he saw the shock etched on Lakan’s face. Gabriel’s gaze shifted to the Grand Master, who remained impassive but raised his voice, declaring, “Victory! Orion!”
The crowd erupted, their wild cheers flooding the arena. Gabriel exhaled deeply, releasing all the tension and pressure he’d imposed on himself. He had won, against all odds. But his focus wasn't on the victory—it was on his friend, Lakan.
Lakan stood there, his shoulders slumped in defeat, his head bowed. Gabriel took slow, careful steps toward him until he was close enough to reach out. Lakan looked up with a bittersweet smile—a smile that conveyed both happiness for his friend’s success and the sting of his own loss.
Gabriel closed the final gap between them, pulling Lakan into a tight embrace, the weight of their shared journey settling between them. “I’m sorry, brother,” Gabriel whispered, his voice thick with regret. For a moment, they stood in silence, warriors, friends, bound by everything they had endured.
Lakan held Gabriel’s gaze, his expression softening, before nodding resolutely. “Brother,” he echoed. Then, with a gesture of camaraderie, Lakan raised Gabriel’s hand high into the air for all to see.
Gabriel lifted his gaze to the sky, the warm sunlight casting a golden glow across the arena. Above him, a Velictra soared in a graceful arc, its vibrant wings catching the light like a shimmering blessing from the heavens. It was as if the creature itself had come to witness his victory, adding to the reverence of the moment.
The crowd’s roar swelled, chanting his name, "Little Wolf," their cheers rising in waves of adoration. But Gabriel barely heard them.
The sound of their voices felt distant, hollow, as if muffled by something deep within him. His eyes drifted across the sea of faces—some familiar, some strangers, all united in their celebration of him.
The crowd roared louder, calling his name, but inside, all Gabriel could feel was the growing isolation. He was their champion now, but in becoming what they needed, he feared he had lost something of himself. Even victory has a price.
As he stood there, soaking in the moment, the Velictra soared higher into the sky, disappearing into the sunlight. Gabriel’s eyes followed it, his heart heavy with the knowledge that this was just the beginning. The path he was on stretched out before him—one that led to more battles, more violence, and perhaps more of himself slipping away.