A new day dawned in the kingdom of Luganor.
After yesterday's exhausting day, Desimir was resting under his tree in the wheat field.
Osgar was at home, learning about various sword-fighting styles through books,while Ervin was practicing with his sword in the forest near the city.
The final of the Young Warriors Tournament was to be held at noon
which meant they had about an hour left to prepare.
This day was different from the previous one,the sun hid behind rain clouds that covered the sky with their grayness.
The rain hadn't started yet, but the air was humid,indicating it could begin at any moment.
The wheat around Desimir swayed in the wind as he looked up at the gloomy sky,where swallows flew, migrating south.
"I wish I were like the birds,their only worry in life is to stay warm,"
said Desimir, then laughed when he realized he was talking to himself.
Ervin appeared, returning from training, and stumbled upon his rival.
"The tournament starts in less than an hour, and you're lying here resting?"
Desimir stood up and patted the dust off his pants.
"Everyone has their own way of preparing for the final.
Some train — others relax,"
said Desimir, stretching.
"For me, training is relaxation. It clears my mind before the final,and it's always good to sharpen one's skills.I don't like when my blade grows dull,"
added Ervin as the two started walking slowly toward the arena,
where they were to meet the third member of their team.
Ervin and Desimir reached the arena, where Osgar was already waiting,
dressed in his chain armor and trousers.
"Where have you been? We've got only twenty minutes left before the match begins!"
said Osgar, frustrated.
"That's plenty of time. We just need to change,"
answered Desimir.
Osgar sighed and put a hand to his forehead, then remembered something he had read in his books.
"Ervin, I studied some sword-fighting techniques.
The move you used yesterday — that was the Green Forest Fox style, wasn't it?"
he asked curiously as the three of them headed to the locker room
at the back entrance of the arena.
"That's right. It's a technique I've been trying to master ever since I could hold a sword.
It's still not perfect — but it soon will be,"
Ervin said confidently.
"Sword techniques, hmm… I think I've heard about that.
Isn't that when you gather energy from nature and channel it into your weapon
or parts of your body to perform supernatural attacks?"
asked Desimir, looking to the side, lost in thought.
"Exactly, my friend.
Throughout the ages, sword techniques have been passed down from generation to generation —
or learned individually, as I did.
I thought you knew one too, but I guess you're just a natural talent
who doesn't need technique.
Of course, they say only one in eighty people learns a technique —
so I suppose that makes me something of a talent too,"
Ervin said with a grin.
"Come on, I'm just too lazy to learn anything like that.
I'll leave the techniques to you.
And I wouldn't call us talents — we've both been training
since we were old enough to hold a sword.
Talent plays a part, sure, but effort and hard work are what truly matter."
The trumpets sounded again — this time announcing the beginning of the final
and the arrival of the kings at the arena.
The stands were packed.
All four kings took their seats at the center of the tribunes.
At each of the four corners of the arena stood three royal guards.
Beside the kings stood the captain of the First Division,
and with him, a tall man — built like a tree that had survived a storm:
slim yet sinewy, with several scars across his face,
medium-length blond hair parted down the middle,
a clean-shaven jaw, and piercing blue eyes.
That man was Elstan Nualami,
captain of the Second Division.
"Kjaran, don't you think you might be overdoing it with the guards?"
asked King Anir his captain.
"On the contrary, my lord," Kjaran replied.
"If anything, I think this is too few.
I've been entrusted with protecting all four kings —
and I consider this force insufficient.
But that's why Captain Elstan and I are here."
"Elstan," said the king, "didn't you have anything better to do?"
"Not at all, my liege.
Guarding four kings is the greatest privilege anyone could have.
Besides, my son is competing in the final —
I'm glad I get to watch him,"
Elstan said with a smile.
"I didn't know your son was competing. Which team is he in?"
the king asked curiously.
"Team Two, my lord. You'll recognize him as soon as he steps out —
he looks quite a bit like me,"
Elstan replied, smiling proudly.
The trumpets sounded again as both teams entered the arena,
taking their positions on opposite sides.
On one side stood Team Two —
wearing the same light armor and leather trousers as in previous battles.
Desimir and Ervin held swords,
while Osgar carried a spear.
Opposite them stood another team of three,
dressed similarly — light armor and leather trousers.
One tall fighter wielded a spear, while the other two, shorter ones,
used swords — almost like mirror images of Desimir's team.
The trumpets fell silent.
The only sound left in the arena was the wind,
which had started blowing harder.
Dust lifted into the air; the atmosphere was thick and heavy.
Gray clouds had completely covered the sky.
Everyone fell quiet, eyes fixed on the king,
who rose to his feet and waved his hand, giving the signal for the match to begin.
At that moment, the referee struck a wooden drum,
and the battle commenced.
Team Two spread out.
Osgar and Ervin moved to the sides,
about four meters away from Desimir,
who stood at the center of their formation.
Their opponents mirrored the formation and spread out as well.
The teams approached each other slowly and cautiously.
At about ten meters apart, Osgar raised his spear,
aiming it at his opponent —
who lifted his sword, ready to defend.
At that same instant, Desimir's opponent charged straight at him.
"Just as you said, captain," Desimir said with a grin.
In that moment, Osgar hurled his spear toward Desimir's opponent —
the enemy barely dodged it,
but that split second of distraction was all Desimir needed.
With a single strike to the stomach,
he knocked the wind out of his foe,
then followed with a blow to the head,
knocking him unconscious.
The entire arena gasped at Osgar's clever plan.
"Looks like he only got your looks, Elstan,"
said King Anir jokingly.
"Because I doubt you'd have come up with a plan like that."
"Tactics I usually leave to Sofus, my sub-captain.
I'm more a man of action than of words,"
replied Elstan, making the king laugh.
Osgar, now unarmed, was immediately attacked by another opponent —
but Desimir rushed to his aid, blocking the blow with his sword.
"Not very nice to attack an unarmed man, don't you think?"
Desimir said, motioning for Osgar to retrieve his spear —
which Osgar quickly did.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the arena,
Ervin's sword had crossed with his opponent's spear.
Ervin skillfully dodged and deflected the thrusts aimed at him,
but the spearman had the advantage of reach.
Ervin had to close the distance to strike — not an easy task.
The ground beneath them was dry and slippery,
as if they were fighting on polished yellow stone.
At one point, Ervin slipped and fell.
His opponent seized the opening and struck,
hitting Ervin in the right leg.
Ervin rolled to the side,
avoiding a critical blow — but the hit was strong.
Osgar rushed to help, but Ervin refused.
"I don't need your help, Osgar.
This is just getting interesting,"
he said with a grin.
For a moment, he grabbed his injured leg,
but quickly released it and again gripped his sword with both hands.
His opponent had already taken his stance,
circling him like a wild cat stalking its prey —
and then, suddenly, he lunged.
Ervin was forced into full defense.
His opponent's strikes came fast and heavy;
Ervin blocked or dodged each one,
but couldn't find an opening to counter.
His injured leg slowed him down.
Sweat ran down his face and into his eyes,
and he began to realize the danger he was in.
"So this is how wild animals feel
when they're attacked by predators,"
he thought.
"All they can do is defend.
But what have animals done for ages — for centuries?
They've adapted.
That's what I have to do. I must adapt."
At that moment, Ervin stopped moving,
closed his eyes, and began to focus.
From the stands, Ujiyoshi thought to himself:
"That's right. You already know what to do.
Feel everything around you —
feel the air as it flows,
the leaves as they fall,
your opponent as he attacks.
Feel everything — and then strike."
Ervin opened his eyes —
and his opponent's sword was already descending toward his head.
"Look at that, hah,"
Kjaran chuckled.
In a split second, Ervin dodged,
appearing behind his opponent.
"Be cunning… like a fox."
The blade of his sword began to glow in pale green,
the ground around him cracked from the force of the energy he gathered,
and then — he struck.
His opponent flew across the entire arena
until the wall stopped his flight.
The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.
"Incredible! Did you see that?"
said the king, astonished.
"A truly remarkable technique for one so young, isn't it, Elstan?"
Kjaran remarked.
"And a rare one, if I may add," Elstan replied.
"The Green Forest Fox technique isn't often seen.
The only man I know who uses something similar is… well, you know who."
"Indeed," said Kjaran.
"The captain of the Third Division uses the Forest Fox technique —
the one from which all fox styles originated.
That boy's got real talent."
The clouds were slowly darkening, the wind began to blow harder, and the air grew heavier with moisture — rain would fall soon.
In the arena stood four young men; victory for Team Two was almost certain, but Desimir wanted to finish this himself.
Ervin passed by him, and Desimir placed a hand on his shoulder.
"That was incredible, but I won't let you surpass me.
So go sit down, rest, and watch me win,"
Desimir said, his eyes betraying that he would not allow himself to lose.
His opponent assumed his stance, while Osgar and Ervin sat down, leaning against the cold wall of the arena to rest and watch the fight.
Both were tired, sweat running down their faces, the cold wind blowing.
"How refreshing this wind feels," said Ervin, taking a deep breath.
"Do you really think Desimir can defeat him? I heard that guy was one of the favorites to win before the new format was introduced. His father is supposedly a sergeant of the Sixth Division,"
Osgar said worriedly.
"If anyone can beat him, it's Desimir.
It doesn't matter who your father is or where you come from —
what matters is how badly you want to win, to prove yourself in this moment.
I'm sure no one had even heard of Desimir before this tournament,
but believe me, after today's final, everyone will know him,"
Ervin said, confident that his rival could not lose.
"So it's just you and me left.
It's not wise to face me alone. That's my advice,"
Desimir's opponent said, certain his victory was assured.
Desimir looked at his palm, a drop of rain falling onto it.
"Better finish this before the downpour begins.
It wouldn't be good to get drenched like this, all sweaty.
I wouldn't want to catch a cold,"
Desimir said, disregarding his opponent's words, and then charged forward.
He attacked with a barrage of strikes from all sides — left, right, and above.
His opponent had no choice but total defense.
He blocked every strike, but with each blow, he was slowly pushed back.
At one point, growing frustrated, he leapt backward, creating a distance of several meters between him and Desimir.
"How dare you force me onto the defensive? Do you know who I am?"
he shouted, assuming a stance similar to Ervin's.
He closed his eyes and began gathering energy.
"This isn't good — and he knows some technique,"
Osgar said in a panic.
"Seems so, but he's very slow at gathering energy. This match is over,"
Ervin added.
"I don't care who you are. I came here to win.
Now move aside,"
Desimir said, then quickly closed the distance between them, striking his opponent in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
The man collapsed, lying unconscious on the arena floor.
The crowd jumped to their feet, erupting in applause.
Ervin and Osgar rushed to their friend and embraced him.
All four kings rose, clapping along with the spectators, as did Kjaran and Elstan.
In all that noise and celebration, no one noticed the four masked figures climbing the walls of the arena.
They took advantage of the distraction — arrows suddenly flew toward the kings.