Noah awoke to the gentle glow of morning light spilling through gauzy curtains, filling the room with a warm, golden haze. He blinked against the brightness, feeling the unfamiliar weight of thick blankets pressed around him, stitched with intricate patterns of deep greens and golds. A faint scent of herbs and pinewood drifted through the air, mingling with a hint of aged parchment, grounding him in the reality of the day.

As he stirred, the muted sound of voices outside the door caught his attention. Moments later, a guard stepped in, bowing slightly as he entered.

“Good morning, sir. Apologies for the watch—Miss Ava attempted to slip into your room a few times last night to join you,” he said with a slight smile. “There are clothes in the dresser for you. When you're ready, the elder awaits you in the council room.”

Once the guard left, Noah pulled himself from the bed and found the garments laid out for him. He dressed in a black tunic and dark green pants, admiring the way the clothes fit. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he noticed that most of the black marks dotting his skin had faded due to the fight against Cyrus, though a few still clung stubbornly to his arms.

He made his way through the quiet manor and soon, he entered a large, softly lit council room. Around the table sat several familiar faces, each with expressions ranging from warm welcome to restrained indifference.

Ava’s father, a stern-looking man with short blond hair and piercing emerald eyes, sat closest to the door. Though he’d always respected the Fafnir family, it was clear he still harbored reservations about Noah’s marriage to his daughter. Beside him sat Ava’s mother, a woman of serene elegance with flowing lime-green hair and golden eyes, traits Ava had inherited. She gave Noah a warm smile as he entered, a silent gesture of approval.

At the head of the table sat the elder, an imposing figure even in his advanced age. Tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair and sharp crimson eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone he looked at, his presence filled the room. He sat with quiet authority, his wrinkled hands resting on the table, observing Noah’s every movement as he entered.

Ava sat next to her mother, beaming as she met Noah's gaze. Lux, perched lazily in a corner with his usual air of casual disinterest, offered a faint nod, though his attention was clearly wandering.

“Please, Noah,” the elder’s deep, gravelly voice commanded the room. “Take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

Noah took his seat at the far end of the table, and a tense silence filled the room. The air was thick, the weight of the elders' scrutiny bearing down on him. Each face around the table seemed hardened, their gazes scrutinizing, as if evaluating not just his presence but his resolve.

Finally, the elder’s gravelly voice broke the silence. “So, it's true,” Elder Novis said, his gaze piercing. “By Lux’s presence, I see you have indeed assumed the mantle of this era’s hero.” He paused, his tone shifting to something firmer, more unyielding. “Now, I have a request, Noah. Break off your engagement with my granddaughter.”

Ava’s face paled as she stood up from her chair in shock. “Grandpa, no!” Her voice was filled with desperation, but Elder Novis’s sharp glare silenced her as quickly as she’d spoken.

“Sit down, Ava,” he commanded, his voice unyielding.

She lowered herself back into her seat, her eyes brimming with sadness, though she dared not challenge him further.

Novis looked back at Noah, his expression softening only slightly. “Understand, Noah, this decision has nothing to do with the tragedy that befell your family. I care for you as if you were my own blood,” he admitted, his tone laced with a rare gentleness. “But as the hero, your path is dangerous. I simply cannot allow you to drag my granddaughter into the firestorm that is bound to follow you. Our family will support the hero’s mission, as we always have, but I won’t see Ava harmed by association.”

Ava’s father, Orist, spoke up next, his voice hard as iron. “Your journey is filled with peril, Noah. And as a hero who intends to hunt down the Black Witch herself, your journey will be filled with too many dangers.” His gaze was stern, unrelenting. “You cannot protect Ava from that.”

But Ava’s mother, Elanor, interjected, her tone gentle but resolute. “You cannot deny their bond. He is the hero, but he’s also a man who loves her. Separating them won’t ensure her safety, Orist.”

Orist scowled, frustration flashing across his face. “You’re blinded by affection, Elanor! Just because he is the hero doesn’t mean he’s strong enough to keep her safe.”

“I am!” Noah’s voice rang out, defiant and filled with raw determination. He slammed his fist on the table, the sound reverberating through the room. “I can protect her. I’ll prove it.”

Novis’s gaze narrowed, evaluating him with newfound interest. “Very well,” he said, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. “If you wish to prove yourself, you’ll face Orist. If you can best him, I’ll allow your engagement to continue. To make it fair, Orist will refrain from using his regalia. Consider it a… test of your resolve.”

Noah met the elder’s gaze without flinching, determination burning in his eyes. “I accept. I won’t lose.”

Orist scoffed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “What a waste of my time,” he muttered, folding his arms. “But fine. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of a little target practice.”

With that, they made their way to the training hall. The grand stone corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, finally opening into a vast chamber carved from dark granite and polished marble. Torches lined the walls, their flames casting a warm, flickering glow that danced across the room. Ornate banners adorned with the family crest—an emerald apple entwined with thorns surrounding it, hung on either side of the entrance, symbols of honor and legacy that whispered of battles long past.

As Noah stepped inside, he could feel the weight of hundreds of past victories and defeats in the air. The hall was a tribute to skill and discipline, its floor marked with faint scuffs and cracks, remnants of the fierce duels fought here. At one end of the room lay an array of weapons mounted on the wall, gleaming steel swords, axes, and spears neatly arranged and carefully maintained. On the other side were a variety of targets, mannequins clad in armor, straw dummies, and targets marked with painted bullseye, each with its own scars of combat.

An elevated platform with rows of seats encircled the arena, and it was already filling with onlookers. Knights, their armor gleaming in the torchlight, had gathered to witness the clash, their expressions ranging from amused curiosity to quiet respect. Ava’s family stood at the front, with her father, Orist, confidently adjusting the wraps on his hands, clearly relishing the upcoming duel. Ava herself seemed both excited and apprehensive, her gaze fixed on Noah as if silently urging him on. Even Lux had taken a seat, though he lounged lazily, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched the proceedings.

Noah took his place opposite Orist, who was rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck, a faint, predatory smile playing on his lips. His presence was imposing, his posture fluid yet firm, like a coiled serpent waiting to strike. He gave Noah a quick glance, an appraising look that was as sharp as the blade he wore at his side.

“This is your last chance to back down, Noah,” Orist taunted, his voice dripping with mock concern. “No one will think less of you. Not any more than they currently do.”

Noah’s response was a single, silent step forward, his eyes steady, refusing to waver.

The crowd held its breath as the signal was given, and with that, Orist took his stance, his movements deceptively relaxed but brimming with deadly precision. He was ready to test the young hero’s resolve to its limit, and Noah knew it.

Orist’s smirk deepened, a glint of malice in his eyes as he continued, “I’ll make it quick for you, hero. My ability, Prison Master, allows me to conjure chains that drain the very strength out of anyone they touch. Once you’re trapped, you'll feel your energy slip away—little by little, until there’s nothing left.” He raised his fist, his knuckles cracking with anticipation. “And when that happens, I’ll be free to hit you over and over. Hope you’ve got some fight in you because it’s going to hurt.”

Noah’s gaze hardened, the usual warmth in his eyes replaced with fierce resolve. He gripped his sword tighter, planting his feet firmly on the training room floor. “You can try,” he replied, his voice low but steady. The challenge in his tone was unmistakable.

The air between them grew tense, the onlookers barely daring to breathe. Noah’s stance spoke of determination and defiance, daring Orist to come at him. And Orist, with chains subtly materializing around him, was all too ready to oblige.

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Orist chuckled darkly, rolling his shoulders as a faint, metallic glint flickered around him. Chains began to manifest from thin air, ghostly and faint at first, but soon solidifying into thick iron links that rattled ominously as they extended, hovering in the air like waiting serpents.

“Brave words," Orist sneered, his voice dripping with amusement, “but let’s see if you can back them up."

Noah gripped his sword tightly, his draconic eyes blazing with determination. He lunged forward, his sword flashing as he aimed a strike at Orist’s side. But before his blade could reach, Orist sidestepped, his movements fluid and effortless. In a swift counter, Orist swung his fist, catching Noah in the ribs with bone-crushing force, sending him stumbling back.

The chains responded instantly, surging forward like snakes sensing prey. Noah swung his sword to cut through them, managing to slice a few of the links, but more and more of the chains replaced them, darting around him in every direction. Orist moved with deadly precision, his smirk widening as he manipulated the chains to surround Noah, forcing him into a defensive stance.

Orist’s voice rang out, dripping with mock sympathy. “What’s wrong, hero? You look overwhelmed. Surely the gods didn’t choose someone so… weak?”

Noah gritted his teeth, frustration mingling with pain as he swung his sword desperately to keep the chains at bay. But Orist’s technique was flawless, each swing of his fist sending Noah reeling back, every punch followed by more chains closing in around him. Finally, one of the chains snagged his arm, wrapping around it and tightening with a crushing grip.

The effect was immediate. A wave of exhaustion washed over Noah as the chain sapped his strength, his movements growing sluggish and heavy.

"Is that all you've got?" Orist taunted, pulling Noah forward with the chain as he wound up for another blow. His fist collided with Noah’s stomach, and the young hero felt the air leave his lungs as he doubled over in pain, barely able to stay upright.

The chains coiled tighter around him, binding his legs and arms as Orist slowly circled him, savoring the moment. He sneered down at Noah, whose face was twisted in pain but still held a spark of defiance.

“Still standing? Impressive,” Orist mocked, gripping one of the chains and jerking it tight, pulling Noah off balance and sending him crashing to his knees. “But I wonder how long that stubbornness will last once I’ve beaten every last bit of strength out of you.”

With a powerful punch, Orist struck Noah’s face, his fist colliding with enough force to split the skin and leave a trickle of blood running down his cheek. The audience watched in silence, some knights exchanging glances, others muttering that the hero was outmatched.

“Perfect, just what I wanted,” Noah murmured, a defiant smile playing at his lips as the black markings along his arms began to pulse, spreading across his skin like ink in water. He let himself open up to the room, feeling the energy swirling around him—the negative currents that everyone tried to suppress or forget.

The room’s atmosphere shifted as Noah’s ability drew in emotions like a magnet. He felt the dull ache of the knights' accumulated exhaustion from their relentless training, the moments of self-doubt they pushed down day after day. He sensed the flickers of envy from younger knights, hoping for a chance to prove themselves. But Ava’s feelings shone through most strongly—an intense, almost desperate worry wrapped in fierce love. Her emotions were powerful enough to fuel him beyond what he thought possible, flooding his body with a warmth that held a bittersweet edge.

Dark circles grew along his skin as he absorbed it all. Ava’s concern, the knights’ fatigue, their anxiety, envy, fear, and frustration—it all coursed into him like a surge of dark lightning, strengthening him in a way that was as painful as it was empowering.

"Ava," he whispered under his breath, his eyes flashing with new resolve. "Thank you… I can feel your care for me from here. I don’t plan to lose. I love you, and I’ll prove it. I won’t let us be separated.”

Ava’s eyes widened, and then a bright grin spread across her face as she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted louder. “Alright, Noah, kick his ass! Make him look so bad that even Mom would stop kissing him!”

Orist’s expression hardened, though a glimmer of respect flashed in his eyes. “She really does love you, doesn’t she? But don’t think that’ll stop me from testing the limits of your resolve.”

The energy within Noah surged to a peak, his body nearly vibrating with the blend of emotions he’d taken in. The dark energy seeped through his veins, wrapping around his muscles and sharpening his senses. He felt powerful and grounded, but with a heavy weight pressing on him—an embodiment of all the struggles, all the hardships everyone else bore in silence. He would turn this darkness into his strength, shaping their hidden burdens into his own hope.

Orist flexed his hands, his chains rattling ominously as they manifested with a metallic glint, reaching toward Noah like serpents. “Show me what that love and resolve of yours can really do.”

Noah straightened, a wild glint in his eyes and a grin tugging at his lips. “I’m about to put on a show that’ll leave everyone speechless. Just watch, folks—your noble captain is about to be beaten to a bloody pulp.” He stretched his arms wide, his voice carrying across the room as if to declare his defiance to everyone present. Despite his confidence, a thin line of blood trickled from his nose, the toll of absorbing so much negative energy starting to show. But Noah didn’t flinch.

Orist scoffed, crossing his arms as his chains slithered around him protectively. “Bold move, provoking your opponent. But that only works if you’re on their level, and right now, you’re not even close. I see right through your little plan.”

Noah rolled his eyes, a glimmer of mischief dancing there. “Provoke you? Please. I don’t care enough to try to rattle you. I just wanted their attention,” he gestured to the watching knights and Ava, who looked on with anticipation. “A hero’s words are meant to move the hearts of the people.”

With that, Noah surged forward, his darkened energy crackling along his blade. He swung with a fierce, almost reckless intensity, aiming a powerful slash at Orist. The captain’s chains shot up in response, meeting Noah’s blade with a loud clang as sparks flew from the impact.

Orist’s face was impassive as he held the chains steady, his stance unmoving. “Impressive enthusiasm,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, “but raw force alone won’t get you anywhere.”

Noah gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of Orist’s strength pushing back against his blade. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, their anticipation feeding into his energy reserves. Letting their gazes fuel him, he gripped his sword tighter, drawing in another surge of dark energy that pulsed through his muscles. His entire body burned with determination as he pushed against Orist’s chains with all his might, his focus unyielding.

With a fierce yell, he pushed back against Orist’s chains, forcing them back an inch. The crowd murmured in surprise. Noah’s eyes flashed with a fiery resolve, as he shouted, “Remember this moment. Because a true hero doesn’t just fight battles—he makes the impossible possible.”

Orist tightened his grip on his chains, sweeping them in a wide arc to try and trap Noah in a powerful bind. But Noah was quick, darting to the side and narrowly avoiding the metal links as they crashed against the floor where he’d stood moments before. He retaliated with a swift overhead slash, his sword glowing faintly with the dark energy he’d amassed.

Orist met the strike with a smooth parry, his chains coiling around Noah’s blade and wrenching it to the side with a brutal twist. Noah staggered but held his ground, pulling his sword free and immediately lunging again, aiming for Orist’s torso. The captain’s movements were precise, almost effortless as he blocked each strike, his eyes cold and calculating.

“Not bad, but this reckless energy won’t carry you far,” Orist taunted, slamming a chain into Noah’s side with enough force to send him stumbling back.

Noah winced as he felt the impact reverberate through him, but he quickly recovered, charging again. He knew his strength alone couldn’t match Orist’s, so he poured his focus into speed and unpredictability. He spun, feinted, and struck from every angle he could manage, each attack more desperate than the last. But Orist saw through every move, his experience making him an impenetrable wall.

Finally, with one swift motion, Orist swung his chain in a broad, powerful arc that caught Noah’s sword just as he raised it to defend. The chain wrapped around the blade and, with a single, vicious tug, tore it from Noah’s grasp. His sword clattered across the floor, far out of reach.

Noah’s heart raced. He was defenseless, his breathing heavy, his body aching from the relentless assault. But something inside him refused to surrender. He clenched his fists, feeling the bruises along his arms and ribs, but he pushed the pain aside. He had one chance left, and it wasn’t one he wanted to take—yet there was no choice.

He glared up at Orist, who was already closing in, his movements steady, confident, and unhurried. Noah had been holding back the urge to cough throughout the entire fight, fighting to keep his body steady and his mind focused. But now, as desperation took hold, he felt it rise—hot and fierce. Finally, he let it out, a violent cough that tore through him and sent a spray of blood arcing toward Orist. The crimson droplets splattered across Orist’s face, a few finding their way into his eye, startling the captain and forcing him to blink against the sudden sting.

Orist cursed, recoiling slightly, momentarily blinded as he blinked furiously to clear his vision. And in that split second, Noah saw his opening. He lunged forward, gritting his teeth as he threw his full weight into a brutal kick aimed at Orist’s legs.

The kick landed with a resounding thud, striking Orist just behind the knee with enough force to buckle his stance. Orist staggered, his balance disrupted as he began to fall. Noah took a shaky breath, his vision blurring from exhaustion, but his heart pounded with triumph. For a brief moment, he had knocked down the captain, and the room held its breath, watching in stunned silence.

“You damned brat, that was a dirty trick,” Orist growled, but there was an edge of respect in his voice. “I don’t care what kind of underhanded tactics you employ in combat or how close you push yourself to the brink of death.” He stood up, brushed himself off, and lightly shoved Noah back to the ground, noting the state of his battered body.

“But know this, no matter what, don’t let my daughter come to harm. If you do, I will kill you myself. You have to promise me that you’ll keep her safe,” Orist said, extending a hand to help Noah stand.

“I swear I’ll keep her safe,” Noah replied, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through him. “I’ll risk everything for her.”

Just then, Ava rushed over, wrapping her arms tightly around Noah in a jubilant hug. “Congratulations! You beat him! Did you hear that, Gramps? We get to keep our arrangement!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Fine, I’ll allow it,” Elder Novis said, his tone begrudgingly approving. “Good work, young hero.”

Lux, leaning against a nearby wall, muttered to himself, “Cyrus is going to be furious. We’ll have to postpone our planning until tomorrow.”