Towan and Elliot returned to their rented home, still feeling the rush of excitement despite their earlier defeat. They were determined to improve, their minds replaying the sparring session.

As they entered, they found their master sitting at the table, calmly placing dishes for lunch.

"It seems you’ve been training without me... and I had prepared something special for you," he said, his tone light but teasing.

"What kind of special?" Towan asked, curiosity piqued.

"You’ll find out next time," the master replied with a faint smile.

"We ran into some tournament fighters," Elliot said.

"Oh, really?" the master replied, and the boys began recounting the encounter. He listened attentively, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"I hope you learned something from it," he said once they finished. "But now, the food is ready." With that, he placed dishes filled with rice, chicken breast, salad, lentils, and steak on the table. The boys eagerly sat down, and soon, the plates were empty.

"That was delicious," Towan said, leaning back in his chair.

The master calmly gathered the plates, his gaze lingering on the boys as they relaxed after the meal. There was a spark in their eyes that hadn’t been there before—a renewed determination.

"So, you faced strong opponents," he remarked while washing the dishes. "That’s always a good reminder of how much more we can grow."

"Yeah! But next time, I won’t lose so easily," Towan declared, crossing his arms. "Although… how were they so fast? I could barely keep up."

"And the way they used their essence," Elliot added thoughtfully. "It felt like they were playing with us. It was frustrating."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The master turned to face them, his hands resting on the counter. "Their control is admirable, but that only comes with years of practice and experience. Don’t be discouraged by the loss. Instead, let it fuel your drive to improve. The tournament is close, and every day counts."

The boys nodded, motivation gleaming in their eyes.

"Now," the master continued, drying his hands, "you have the afternoon off to recover, but don’t get too comfortable. Training resumes early tomorrow."

Towan grinned. "So we can do whatever we want today?"

"Yes, but within reason," the master said with a warning look. "And don’t go challenging any more fighters. I don’t want to have to pick you up off the ground."

Elliot chuckled softly while Towan frowned. "That was a low blow, master!"

Later, as the boys wandered through the lively village streets, they marveled at the bustling energy around them. Vendors called out to passersby, children played games, and travelers shared stories in animated groups.

When they stumbled upon a plaza where fighters were practicing in public, Towan’s eyes lit up. "Think they’re in the tournament too?"

"Probably," Elliot replied, observing the fighters’ movements. "Some look better than us, but others... not so much."

"Perfect!" Towan said, sitting on the edge of a nearby fountain. "Let’s watch and learn!"

They spent hours studying the fighters, noticing patterns in their techniques. Towan occasionally tried to mimic their moves, while Elliot analyzed their strengths and weaknesses.

At one point, an older man in light armor and a weathered cape approached them. His presence commanded respect.

"Enjoying the show, youngsters?" he asked with a kind smile.

"Yeah, it’s amazing to see so many different styles," Elliot replied politely.

"That’s the beauty of a tournament like this," the man said. "It brings together people from all over the world, each with their own skills and strategies. Are you planning to compete?"

"Of course!" Towan said enthusiastically. "Though we still have some improving to do..."

The man chuckled. "Confidence is good, but remember—strength isn’t everything in a tournament. Strategy and control often matter more than raw power."

"Thank you for the advice," Elliot said, bowing his head slightly.

As the man walked away, the boys exchanged thoughtful looks, pondering his words.

That evening, they shared their experiences with their master over tea.

"Observing was a smart move," the master said, his tone approving. "The tournament isn’t just about strength or skill. It’s also a mental game. Knowing your potential opponents gives you an edge."

"We understand, master," Elliot said with a nod. "But we still have a lot to learn."

"And we will," Towan said, his fists clenched with determination. "This tournament is just the first step in becoming stronger!"