"I can't see!! I can't see!! What's happening!!!??"

"Someone quickly tell me!!! What happened???"

A blinding explosion occurred when the sword light clashed against the raging bronze fist covered in a golden aura. The white of the sword light mixed together with the golden-bronze aura and created a flas.h.i.+ng brilliant pillar that ascended into the sky, lighting up the horizon for miles around the Gorun Stadium.

And as the sky was illuminated by the great golden-white flash, it was not just the spectators within the stadium who were shocked and awed by the scene but even the shopkeepers, stall-vendors and numerous townsfolk who were not watching the matches!

"Is it a sign...?"

"No... It's coming from the Gorun Stadium!"

"Could it be the birth of a great hero...?"

The superst.i.tious and the logical argued against each other about the origin and meaning of the lights even as the n.o.bles and audience members began to regain their vision.

Then they saw a terrifying scene of destruction in the ring.

To their shock... It was neither Lars nor Reshmont who was, as they had expected, mortally wounded and hanging at the brink of death.

Neither were they both unscathed, of course, for they had been in the origin point of the cataclysmic explosion. Lars was still standing, seemingly still in good condition while Reshmont had fallen to his knees, with one hand on the ground.

But to everyone's surprise, it was Mr White who was in bad shape!

He had intervened urgently, sensing that the powers unleashed by these two youths far exceeded their abilities to sustain or control. In the moments before the two boys' attacks met, he had stood in the gap between them and suppressed the power of their strikes with his Grandmaster-level strength.

Or so he had thought - for the grand outburst of power had exceeded his expectations and turned his ever-white garb and white hair a sooty black!

The audience members tried to resist laughing, but in the end, many could not help but sn.i.g.g.e.r as they saw the Acting Head Administrator coughing from the intense heat and smoke he had experienced when forcefully redirecting the clash of energies. The high friction of the attacks with the air ignited the oxygen and resulted in a small flash of flames that had left him in this ragged state.

Mr White frowned deeply and cast angry glances first at Reshmont then at Lars. He coughed again and again then let out an irritated "Harumph!" before he stalked off.

While the two boys stared at his retreating back, Mr White shouted out as an aside, "Carry on your childish fight!"

Lars had a bemused look on his face as he hefted his sword and took a ready stance, but to his surprise, Reshmont held up an open palm to ask him to wait.

He was struggling to breathe and his body had already shrunk back to his 2.4 metre frame. He seemed worn out and pale as he trembled slightly and said, "L-Lars...! That was a, a good fight! S-sorry, I'm... Really not able to continue any more! But... Well fought! I...."

He then bowed his head deeply while he was kneeling, as if though a loyal subject before a dignified king and confessed, "...I admit my defeat... You are truly the most talented youth I have ever, EVER seen in my short life..."

When he heard those words, Lars felt slightly disappointed but also smiled and shrugged. He sheathed his sword and reached out a hand, offering it to Reshmont and said, "...Friends...?"

Reshmont looked up and had a look of shock on his face for a moment before he fixed Lars with a firm gaze and a serious look and said, "...I'm sorry, Lars... We can't be friends..."

Lars looked dismayed and disappointed. He was confused; was there something wrong? Something Reshmont couldn't tell him that made him unable to accept his offer of friends.h.i.+p...?

Then to his bewilderment, Reshmont clasped his hand tightly and flashed him a cheeky grin with his innocent, boy-like face and said, "...Because we're BROTHERS! Hahahah! Get it...? You don't...?"

Lars clasped hands in return and smiled... But also sweated at the incredibly lame joke...

And he looked slightly taken aback as Reshmont got up to his feet and caught him in an incredibly big, manly, uncomfortable and sweaty hug as he said, "Hahaha! Brother Lars!! Thank you for such a great fight!! I, Reshmont will remember it!"

Lars trembled in anxiety and felt his mind spinning as he smelled the sweat, dirt and blood on Reshmont's body rubbing off onto his.

* * * * *

"So, what do you think now...? I mean, about Lars and who you'll be facing...?"

Yusof Jamal threw the question at his daughter Vignis, but he frowned as he noticed that the girl still seemed rather... Unimpressed.

She pulled out a nail file and began to touch up her already-perfect nails and gave him a perfunctory answer, "Meh."

Yusof sighed and shook his head, then shrugged as he reached out, grabbed his cup of wine and took a sip. He swished around the pungent liquid in his mouth for a moment before gulping it down and relished the slightly caustic, acidic nature of the drink.

"Guess... You really don't have an eye for talent... Or men..." He muttered under his breath but made sure it was loud enough for his daughter to hear.

"Dad! Enough about that! I know looking back now that Leo was a bad choice! How was I supposed to know!" Vignis flared up for a moment, las.h.i.+ng out at her dad for his words that hit her sore points.

Then her eyelids drooped slightly and she looked pretty down as she added softly, "But I never brought things up between us... And he didn't even like me, anyway..."

Yusof's gaze towards his only daughter turned gentle when he heard that as both father and daughter sighed together.

What was he going to do with his beloved girl...?

'At first, though I definitely had reservations, I thought that just maybe, Leocadius Trenel might be a suitable man who could accept Vignis' bad... Ahem, I mean, different temperament... But now...'

He sighed again. Looked like the apple did not fall far from the tree...

Despite his involvement in rather shady business as well, and his sometimes supporting the inter-city slave trade transactions, he had always been quite reticent about dealing in that line of work. However, it was difficult to outright reject the requests from House Trenel when they came in; after all, the Five Great Families *HAD* formed the city together from the very beginning - there were some ties that were thicker than blood.

As such, his uncle the patriarch had deemed it beneficial for the Jamal smuggling rings to cater for some minor deals, albeit, limited to only goods aged 18 and above...

He ma.s.saged his temples when he thought about it - it was a glad and good thing too that they were not partic.i.p.ating in the local trade here... With the news that Lord Mikael had raided one of the major child holding pens and the subsequent attacks on House Trenel's slavers' dens, it was fortunate that the Jamal's trade network was not involved!

'Else we'd be dragged into the inevitable civil war too... Now the only issue is how to benefit and come out stronger for the upcoming conflict... And...'

He looked once more with a tender gaze at his daughter who had a wistful and lost expression on her normally hard-jawed face. Then her droopy eyes widened and she brightened up.

"Ah, dad! Darius' fight is about to start...!" She perked up slightly and appeared to be past her melancholic mood swing. There was a little bit of excitement and a slight tinge of colour in her cheeks as her eyes twinkled at seeing Darius take the stage.

Yusof sighed.

'...And hopefully I can help Vignis to recognise that appearances can be deceiving...'

* * * * *

"Round Three: Match number two! Darius vs. Quagmire Jameson!"