Cyrus's mind rang as he forced himself up, the battle raging before him. Leora and her whip proved to be a formidable opponent, keeping Tirag under immense stress. His concentration was heightened to the maximum as he fended off her relentless attacks.

Though unsure why Leora had acted in his defense, Cyrus knew he didn't have time to ponder. He'd rather die at the queen's hands than let Tirag win this hunt. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he picked up his mustang. The blue energy hue started accumulating as he took aim.

Tirag, caught in the middle of the intense fight, couldn't afford to get distracted. Yet he sensed the threat, glaring over his shoulder. "Coward, will you really strike your opponent in the back?"

"No pity for the enemy," Cyrus retorted, unleashing his mustang. The magical blast whistled out, forcing Tirag to step aside and retaliate. Their energies collided like two stars, the impact pushing Cyrus backward.

The two energies were evenly matched at first. Tirag's eyes dilated as his power went berserk, his rifle burning with even more light. Cyrus's hands trembled, but he stood his ground. Suddenly, Tirag's face turned serious as he noticed Cyrus's broken arm lifting, another mustang in hand.

"How?" Tirag managed before the second magical blast landed squarely on his body. A cosmic hue of energy blended together, flashing brilliantly. With all the damage he'd already received, Tirag couldn't resist the onslaught. His shield shattered as he was sent flying.

"No pity for the enemy," Leora repeated, her eyes returning to normal. Tirag coughed out blood, his eyes full of disbelief. "To think you'd let her use mind control on you. You're really nothing but a dog," he spat, along with a mouthful of blood.

"How's the water? Cold enough?" Cyrus asked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

Tirag's veins bulged as he tried to get to his feet, but he was utterly exhausted. Cyrus fell to his knees, crumbling from exhaustion. Of all the hunters, he was the only one still able to move. If she wanted, Leora could instantly defeat him now and win the event.

Leora cast a glance at him. Their eyes met for a brief second before she turned and left.

"We have our champion! An unprecedented outcome in the annual hunt!" an enthusiastic voice sliced through the air. Their bodies flickered with light as they were transported back to the platform entrance at the villa.

The gathered hunters wore complicated expressions, their gazes darting back and forth. Some looked dejected, others inexpressive. Tirag quickly left, ignoring everyone present.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"Good job, Cyrus," another female voice said.

"I don't deserve it. She let me win," Cyrus replied, his head low.

"We were both wounded, and I didn't have enough to cast any other spell, unlike you. By that fact alone, I lose," Leora added before disappearing into the horizon.

Cyrus fell silent, pondering her words. The more he learned about her, the harder he found it to understand what she really felt.

"I never thought the newcomer could be this good," another hunter said, tapping Cyrus's shoulder. "Usually, it's between Tirag and Leora, but this time it was really fun. We're having a party later, if you know what I mean."

Many more smiled and chatted, most friendly, though some avoided Cyrus like a disease. Still, for once in his life, he felt truly alive. Despite the raging pain from his wounds, it was as if he'd been asleep this whole time and only now was waking up. It was a magical feeling he had longed for so long.

Cyrus returned to his room, pushing the door open and sweeping his gaze across the spacious interior. A king-size bed dominated the well-furnished space, decorated with a hint of neoclassical style.

Thanks to Neno, his body was healing even faster. Sitting on his bed, he fell deep in thought. "Things aren't lost, not completely. If I earn enough, I can definitely buy Dad's way out of this situation."

In Arkania, there were strict rules, notably the Arkania for All Endeavor. It ensured that all people without formal education were sent to the mines. One could avoid such a predicament by being accepted into a magical school, regardless of the position occupied there. Thanks to his parents, Cyrus had evaded the mines by getting a formal education in technology. He balled his fist, remembering his past failure, but knew it wasn't over. These people were filthy rich, right? It was time to renegotiate this bargain. He stood and left.

As he pulled his door open, Cyrus nearly collided with a figure trying to silently retreat. She had resumed her old appearance: a perfect black suit, standing under her umbrella. It was dark within the corridors, but her golden hair stood out, making it easy to spot her.

She turned decisively. "Tomorrow morning, we will resume your training. This time it will be harder and more intensive. Get ready."

"I know what it feels like to look at an old object and get lost in memories," Cyrus said, holding out her gloves. "It might sound stupid, but we all hold onto the past through them. I don't think I would be willing to continue living without mine."

Her eyebrow rose. "You know it wouldn't bring him back," she said softly. Cyrus simply stood quietly. Although he would have a harder time controlling his magic without them, he couldn't resolve to keep the gloves. It sounded foolish, but only one who had experienced that pain would understand how it felt to cling to such seemingly insignificant things.

She took the gloves back. "Thank you," her soft, almost hypnotic voice fell. Cyrus smiled awkwardly, scratching his head. "Well, see you tomorrow then. Oh, wait, will you go to the party?" he asked, a sparkle of anticipation in his eyes.

Her face resumed its inexpressive demeanor, and she gracefully turned to leave.

"Focus, Cyrus. Focus! Your father counts on you," he slapped himself mentally. He couldn't let anything distract him, even though that 'thing' was like a constant jewel shining before his eyes. He left for the queen's office, determined to have a real talk this time.

As Cyrus walked through the opulent corridors of the villa, his mind raced with possibilities. The weight of his recent victory mingled with the burden of his family's situation, creating a cocktail of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. But he pushed forward, knowing that this might be his only chance to change their fate.