The air was thick with tension. The two fighters stood at the center of the court, poised and ready, their eyes locked in a fierce stare. On one side was Lance, his sword held out with a cocky, shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

Standing on the sidelines, their teammates and fellow Summoned cheered them on, the atmosphere crackling with anticipation.

"Don't worry," Lance taunted arrogantly, his voice dripping with confidence. "I'll take it easy on you, old man."

George, on the other hand, stood with a disciplined stance. Though he hadn’t been a swordsman back in his old world, he had quickly mastered the art here. His grip was steady, his eyes calm as he lifted his sword with a steady hand.

"Worry about yourself," George replied, unphased.

Lance smirked, and without warning, lunged forward, moving with blinding speed. His sword sliced through the air like a blur, aiming for George’s head and torso. George tightened his grip on his blade, parrying the strike, the clash of metal ringing out. Lance immediately retaliated with another attack, but George was equally swift, countering every move perciesly.

For several moments, they were evenly matched, their swords clashing in a rapid, intricate display of pure skill. Each movement mirrored the other as they copied and countered, their [Destiny of the Hero] skill allowing them to adapt instantly to the other’s style. However, in an equal skill scenario, the winner would be determined by who was more experienced.

Lance, growing impatient, decided to go on the offensive. He dove straight in, aiming his sword at the hilt of George’s blade, trying to disarm him and catch him off guard. George, sensing the move, allowed the attack to connect, his sword flying out of his grip, rendering him seemingly defenseless.

Lance grinned, thinking he had the upper hand—until George’s fist connected with the right side of his face with a resounding crack.

Lance was knocked to the ground, a stunned expression on his face. The court fell silent, the onlookers murmuring in surprise.

"Did you know," George said, calmly retrieving his sword from the ground, "When you swing, you're only focused straight ahead, ignoring your blind spots? If you want to improve, you’ll need to pay more attention to your weak points and learn to minimize them."

"Are you… giving advice to me?"

Lance grit his teeth in anger. Though the words George said were of genuine advice, Lance took it as anything but, Anger boiled up inside him, a hot, simmering rage that he couldn’t contain. At that moment, a pulse of energy radiated from Lance, vibrating through the air. Any experienced adventurer could tell you that it was aura.

George immediately realized what Lance was about to do, and panic flashed across his face. "Are you insane? Stop!" he shouted in panic but it was too late.

"Shut up!" Lance growled, picking himself up off the ground. With a furious swing of his sword, he unleashed his second skill.

[Tempest Strike]!

The air seemed to shudder as the powerful gusts of wind erupted from Lance’s blade, tearing through the yard with ferocious intensity. The strike released secondary wind snaps which carved deep grooves into the ground, and the surrounding buildings groaned under the force, leaving large, jagged marks.

George’s eyes widened in alarm as the tempest hurtled toward him, tearing up the ground in its wake. His instincts screamed at him to dodge, to get out of the way, but he knew he couldn’t—not with his teammates directly behind him. He planted his feet firmly and raised his sword, channeling every ounce of aura into the blade to brace against the incoming attack.

I can’t let it hit them!

George’s mind raced as he struggled to hold his ground.

Like Haru, Lance possessed two skills. One was [Destiny of the Hero], and the other was [Tempest Strike]. To draw a comparison, [Tempest Strike] shared similarities to [Sundering Rend], the ultimate attack used by King Aldric, though not as powerful. However, it was still formidable in its own right and perhaps more importantly, it was still in its early stages.

For someone who had only been in this world for a month, Lance’s attack was astonishing—equivalent to the power of a rank 4 or rank 5 warrior and would be capable of holding his own in any B-rank party. This was the potential of the Summoned, amplified by the blessing of [Destiny of the Hero]. As Lance’s skills continued to grow, there was no telling how powerful he could become; even Aldric’s ultimate move might one day pale in comparison.

George gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body straining as he tried to push back against the overwhelming force. He could feel the weight of the strike bearing down on him, his sword barely holding against the relentless assault. A hairline crack appeared on the blade, quickly spreading along the blade.

If he didn’t act soon, the tempest would tear through him and hit his teammates behind him. George’s grip tightened, his knuckles white with strain. The sword wouldn’t hold much longer.

"George, move!"

From behind, Jax, one of George's party members, sprinted forward. He wielded a wrist shield, its surface gleaming as he dove straight toward the attack.

[Shield Bash]!

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

George sidestepped just in time as Jax’s shield collided with the [Tempest Strike], two opposing forces crashing into each other. But it wasn’t enough—the tempest’s power surged forward, pushing Jax back despite his efforts.

"Clara!" George called out.

At the rear, a woman with red hair stepped out, Clara, her eyes sharp, held out her hands.

[Aegis]!

A shimmering shield of energy wrapped around Jax, bolstering his defenses. The combined strength of his shield and Clara’s protection started to give them the edge, the tempest finally beginning to lose its force.

But it still needed one final push.

With that brief moment to breathe, George refocused, channeling his remaining aura into his sword. He didn’t have any fancy techniques, just the raw strength and what he had learned during their time here. With everything he had, he performed a simple, yet powerful thrust, driving his blade forward with precision.

The tempest, already weakened, couldn’t sustain itself any longer. The attack disbursed into the air, the swirling winds vanishing into nothingness.

Jax collapsed to his knees, utterly spent, his chest heaving from the exertion. George, though still standing, was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his brow.

For a moment, the courtyard was dead silent. Then, the tension broke.

"What the hell, Lance?" someone shouted from the sidelines.

"Are you trying to kill them?" another voice added angrily.

"This was supposed to be a friendly match!"

Lance stood there, unbothered, shrugging with a smug grin plastered across his face. "What’re you all going on about? It was a fair match, wasn’t it? I was simply using the skills we all came with. How was I supposed to know George couldn’t handle something like that?" His words carried a mocking tone.

Clara stormed forward, her face flushed with anger. "You knew you couldn’t win in a fair fight, so you used your second skill, knowing full well George doesn’t have one!" She pointed an accusatory finger towards him. "You’re just a coward!"

Lance’s smirk vanished as his expression darkened. "What did you say?"

Before things could escalate, George stepped between them, his eyes locked on Lance. "Don’t threaten my teammates."

Tension rippled through the air again. Lance’s group, who had remained silent up to this point, began to stir, some of them shifting as if ready to jump into the fray. The hostility on both sides was palpable as if anything could set them off.

Just as it seemed everything was about to explode, a sharp voice cut through the chaos. "Enough!"

Appearing before the two groups was a striking woman, dressed in sleek, form-fitting clothes that accentuated her graceful and alluring figure. Her black hair fell in soft waves, with her bangs artfully covering one side of her face. To her left stood a man, around the same age, with a relaxed smile and loose-fitting clothes. Both of them appeared to be in their late twenties, but their presence carried the weight of high-ranking fighters.

Indeed, though their age was not as mature as one would expect, these two were the mentors for the Summoned and were among the top tier fighters of Crown Almighty. The woman released a bit of her aura, immediately disbursing the tense atmosphere. "It wouldn’t do anyone any good if things got out of hand."

Clara spoke out angrily, “Lance started it! He used his skill to launch an attack that could've injured George or worse, and without any regard to any of us as well!”

The man gave a low laugh. “We’ve been watching the entire time. None of you were in real danger. We would have stepped in if things had gotten too far.”

The woman nodded. “The point of this match was to test your abilities, particularly those tied to your [Destiny of the Hero] skills. Both Lance and George are progressing similarly, though George’s experience in practical combat gives him the edge for now.”

Lance’s scowl deepened at the mention of George’s advantage, but he said nothing.

The woman crossed her arms, her expression firm as she turned to Lance. “However, Clara brings up a good point. Using your [Tempest Strike] against an opponent who doesn't have a reasonable way to defend themselves is not the way to grow. The princess had intentionally divided you all into two separate groups in order for you all to grow while having a bit of competition. In the past, the old heroes grew from hardship and overcoming obstacles. She wishes to do the same now in order for you to grow quickly and defend the kingdom from the demon threat. Let’s chalk this up to a misunderstanding. We’ll make sure to keep this from happening again, okay?”

Lance, with a smug grin, threw a parting glare at George’s group. "Can do," he said before turning on his heel and walking away, his teammates trailing behind him. Though they all came from the same world, the world they lived in was different and in this world there were winners and losers. It didn't matter how short a time had passed since their arrival— they were now enemies fighting for better rewards from the princess.

However, not everyone had succumbed to the rivalry. From Lance’s group, Serena walked over to George’s side. She approached Jax first, offering a warm smile. "Let me help." Her hands glowed with a soft light as she activated her healing skill, [Healing Grace].

Within moments, Jax’s wounds faded, and the fatigue weighing him down melted away. She then moved on to George, and he felt the soothing energy wash over him, his aches vanishing as quickly as they’d come.

"Thank you, Serena," George said. Despite the growing tension between the two groups, Serena had remained the one person who still maintained a sense of goodwill.

"Please, don’t judge Lance too harshly," Serena said, her tone sincere. "He’s still adjusting, just like all of us. It’s not easy being thrown into this world. I’m sure once he comes to terms with everything, he’ll change. We’re all facing the same reality, even if we’re handling it differently."

Hearing those words, Clara scoffed. "That’s no excuse for what he did."

"I understand," Serena replied gently. "In the future, I’ll make sure to remind him to do better."

George simply nodded, seemingly agreeing with her words.

Serena bowed slightly before turning to leave and catch up with her own group.

"Since everything is resolved, we'll be making a report to the princess. You all, take the remaining afternoon to rest." The woman said before she and the man also left, leaving only George's group left.

George gave the signal, dismissing the group. Leaning against the wall, he was soon joined by Jax and Clara.

“What do you think?” Jax asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t trust her,” Clara said bluntly. “Nobody’s that nice unless they want something. She seems kind of fake.”

George nodded slightly, his gaze distant. Jax and Clara were two of the few he could rely on. His group had only been together for a few weeks, and despite the stakes, many of them weren’t treating their situation seriously. The younger ones saw it as a game, while the older ones were hesitant to adapt. But Jax and Clara—they understood the gravity of where they were. They knew something was off.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. “George.”

George looked up. “Seno, you’re back.”

Seno, tall and quiet, with sharp eyes that missed nothing, approached the trio.

“Were you able to find anything?” George asked.

Seno nodded but glanced around, ensuring no one else was listening before speaking. “I’ve been using [Path Finder] to try and locate the other Summoned, but the area beneath the castle is too heavily guarded. Even with my skill, I couldn’t find a way through. You were right—they’re definitely hiding something down there, but I don’t know what.”

George frowned, rubbing his chin. “And the path outside the palace?”

Seno took a deep breath, his expression darkening. “This kingdom... they use slaves.”