There were now only about 200 men left in front of Corvus. All the rest of the soldiers had sealed their fate by displaying their skills. These two hundred men had just used their last chance. The winners of the first round of combat were directly in Corvus' favour. As the defeated men writhed in despair, Corvus gave them another chance. Some were unable to participate in this second round of fights due to severe injuries. This new chance given by Corvus instilled hope and increased the tension of the upcoming fights.

Three fights were fought in total, and in the end there were only two hundred men left. One of them was a man named Varick. Varick was a father of three and had been an unemployed warrior for a long time. His father, although a good fighter, one day challenged the Sharizar from a large family. He won the fight, but the members of the losing family could not digest this defeat and provoked others to challenge his father at every opportunity. In the end, his father was permanently crippled. Varick suffered great hardship in his youth because of this. The father's inability to work and the mother's barely earning enough money to support eight children taught him deeply what it meant to be poor. As his hatred for the unjust order of the big families grew, his dream of becoming a warrior was never extinguished.

After years of endeavour, Varick finally entered Varek's service a few months ago; now he was under Corvus. However, he would likely be out of a job, having lost all three fights before he could make a single move. Unfortunately, all of Varick's opponents were among the strongest in the group. The moment Corvus stood before them, a desperate hope flashed inside Varick: “One more chance... Please, just one more chance…” He stood in the front row, a few feet from Corvus. But things didn't go as he thought. Corvus' words shattered Varick's hopes.

“I gave you three chances! Three chances! Not even one of them did you defeat your opponent. Some of you, though defeated, managed to show their skills, but you! You are nothing! I don't need losers like you!"

Corvus' harsh words struck Varick like a dagger to the heart. Another dream, perhaps his last hope, shattered under the weight of those words. He felt he had been unfairly treated, just as his father had once been. Perhaps if he had faced a different opponent, he might have won. And why was Corvus being so cruel? There were countless Sharizars out there with no soldiers at their disposal, and he was wasting what he had. But the answer was obvious, Corvus belonged to a great family, like those who had crippled his father. Finding worthless warriors like Varick should have been no problem for him.

These thoughts boiled inside Varick like a volcano. His anger was reflected in his face; his veins bulged and defined, a dark fire flashed in his eyes. This anger, mixed with despair, gave Varick's face a stern and menacing expression. Corvus, standing before him, recognised this rage and the bloodlust directed at him. Almost all of the two hundred men were thinking and raging like Varick, but there was something different about Varick's expression. This anger was not pure aggression, but a challenge from the heart. For a moment Corvus felt a little fear stirring inside him. The darkness in Varick's eyes showed that he had the guts to challenge him.

Corvus stepped towards Varick, as if to crush this challenge. The distance between them was now only a few steps. He fixed his eyes on Varick, trying to pierce him with his gaze. Then, as if to suppress the little fear inside him, he cried out in a loud voice: “This is my decision! If anyone wants to challenge it, here I am!”

These words were not a challenge, not a threat, but a provocation that fuelled Varick's anger even more. Corvus had put his full weight on Varick to crush him. The flames in Varick's eyes signalled the beginning of a path of no return. He drew his axe and roared as if to prove he was a true Rhazgord warrior. “I am Varick Oran! I challenge you, Corvus of the Tiamats!”. Both his roar and his words shocked everyone. So much so that even the soldiers nearby could not believe what they heard. Those in other training areas were coming slowly to find the source of the loud roar.

The anger inside Varick was ready to erupt like a volcano. Corvus' silence was like wood thrown on the fire in Varick's soul. It all started at the moment of the challenge. Corvus was trying to put Varick in the ground with his gaze. But Varick was too proud a warrior to be defeated by these looks. The honour of Rhazgord was as real as the blood that flowed in his veins, and he was determined to put all his strength into the defence of that honour as he drew his axe.

In the centre of the circle of soldiers, the two fighters stood facing each other. The axe in Varick's hand reflected the light of the sun, striking fear with its gigantic structure. On the other side stood Corvus, unarmed, as if this fight was an ordinary event for him. There was no emotion on his face; no fear, no anger, no compassion. Just a cold, calculating expression. Varick's pride was wounded by this behaviour, which only fuelled his anger.

Zarqa gave the order and the fight began. Varick made his first move. He swung his axe with great fury, as if he wanted to knock the man in front of him in one blow. Corvus, however, showed not the slightest alarm at this attack. Sliding slightly to the side, he skilfully dodged the axe's deadly crescent. Varick, suppressing his disappointment at this failure, immediately attacked once more. This time he took a wider angle with his axe, but Corvus dodged this attack with the same calmness. Varick's anger was growing; this man was playing games with him, trying to humiliate him.

As Varick prepared to make another move, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his ribs. In the blink of an eye, everything had happened. Corvus, silent as a ghost, lunged forward and landed a punch that struck Varick square in the stomach. Varick fell to his knees in agony, struggling to breathe. His eyes glazed over for a moment, but the humiliation forced him back to his feet. He realised Corvus was watching him. Rather than finish him off, his opponent preferred to humiliate him further. It was a blow to Varick's pride, but it was also a force that pushed him back to his feet.

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Varick was more careful this time. He could no longer underestimate Corvus' speed and agility. Instead of attacking his opponent, he decided to wait for his move. For a few seconds the two stared at each other, as if searching for each other's weaknesses in the eternity of this moment. Varick's heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. Every moment, he was trying to predict what Corvus would do. And at that moment, Corvus lunged forward unexpectedly. This move to close the distance and prevent Varick from using his axe was like a death sentence in Varick's eyes.

Corvus swung a punch towards Varick's jaw. Varick, relying on the speed of his reflexes, narrowly dodged this deadly attack. If he had been a split second too late, he would have been knocked down. His heart began to beat even faster in his chest. This man possessed not only speed and strength, but also a deadly intelligence. Varick realised that not only brute strength was being tested in this fight, but also his mind.

Corvus' attacks came not with brute force, as Varick was used to, but with a graceful but deadly precision. Every move seemed to be part of a pre-planned strategy. For a moment, Varick's anger seemed to give way to fear, but he quickly recovered.

Corvus recognised Varick's hesitation. The coldness in his eyes provoked the other man even more. Unable to stand the silent taunt any longer, Varick struck again. This time he swung his axe from the bottom upwards, aiming to catch Corvus off guard. But Corvus, as if anticipating this attack, took a step back and missed the wind created by the axe by only a few centimetres.

This time he kept his calm and stepped back. He realised that Corvus was expecting the attack, so he decided to disrupt his strategy. Instead of swinging his axe, he suddenly threw a punch with his left hand. This unexpected move distracted Corvus and allowed Varick to deliver a hard kick with his right foot. The kick knocked Corvus off balance and he was forced to step back for a moment. Despite this, he was unable to do the slightest damage to Corvus.

Not wanting to miss this opportunity, Varick pounced on Corvus. He brought his axe down with great force over his head, but Corvus used his speed this time to move to the side. With the axe sticking into the ground, Varick was momentarily exposed. Corvus seised the opportunity and delivered a swift kick to Varick's arm. Varick's arm went numb and he dropped his axe. Corvus immediately stepped back, giving Varick a moment to catch his breath, but the look in his eyes told him that this fight was far from over.

Varick looked down at his fallen axe, trying to predict what Corvus would do. His opponent had clearly gained the upper hand on Varick with this move. But Varick had no intention of giving up. As a Rhazgord warrior, he would fight to the end, even die with honour if necessary. Whether Corvus would give him that chance was still uncertain. Varick took a deep breath and looked towards Corvus. Corvus gestured for him to pick up his axe. Varick swallowed this insult and picked up his axe. His eyes were full of determination and conviction. “It's not over yet!” he growled. He was going to win this fight at the cost of his pride. He had to win.

Corvus' expressionless face changed like a sudden flash of lightning through the gloomy grey clouds. The silent warrior, maintaining his composure, moved through the circle of warriors like an angel of death. Varick sensed Corvus' intentions; he felt the end of the fight was near. But Corvus' next move was far beyond Varick's expectations.

Corvus began to walk towards his opponent with calm and calculated steps. Each step was like the sound of death bells echoing across a battlefield. Varick's heartbeat quickened and his hands began to sweat. The cold-blooded approach of his opponent was driving Varick mad inside. But this anger was crushed under the heavy shadow of fear. He wanted to flee, perhaps even attack, but he felt as if his feet were crashing to the ground. The darkness that burned in Corvus' eyes had completely captured Varick.

As Corvus came within range of Varick's axe, an alarm went off in Varick's mind; there was no turning back now. His instincts kicked in and he swung his axe with all his might. It was the last resort in his life, his only hope was in this blow. However, time seemed to almost stand still. As the sharp edge of the axe swept towards Corvus, for a moment everything became clear in Varick's mind. This attack would bring victory or defeat.

Then came the terrifying moment. With his bare hands, Corvus easily grasped the axe that Varick had put all his hope and energy into. At the point where steel and flesh met, there were no scars or blood. There was only the cold, unwavering determination of Corvus. Time slowed even more for Varick, everything became a blur. His eyes widened, and his heart pounded in his chest. This moment would be etched in his mind forever.

Corvus's fist came at Varick with a force faster and more devastating than thunder. The fist completely obscured Varick's vision. As his eyes widened helplessly in the shadow of the impending blow, only one word echoed in his mind: “Stone of Light.” As that word echoed in his mind, as if from the depths of the past, Varick's body drifted into darkness. As his eyes slowly closed, in that last moment, the dark silhouette of Corvus was etched in his mind. And then, only silence remained.