"Ito from Yonor, hmm..." the officer muttered, scanning the parchment again, eyes narrowing."You can't take part in the tournament."
The words hit Ito like a hammer.
"What?" Ito blinked, stunned.
Zayden stepped forward, voice sharp."But why can't we take part? We passed the entry test!"
The officer's voice was firm, no room for argument."Let me be clear," he said, fixing his gaze on Ito and Zayden."According to tournament rules, anyone physically or mentally unfit can't compete. Your hands are badly injured. Letting you fight would break our safety protocols. We cannot risk a student's life."
"You don't have to worry about this," Ito said, tense."They're fine—really."
"No. Rules are rules," the officer replied, tone firm."Come back next year."
Why... why does it always end like this? Ito thought, fists trembling as he clenched them.I always mess everything up...
The words echoed in his mind—heavy with frustration and quiet despair.An ache deeper than surface pain—a scar he'd carried too long.
Nearby, the three boys he'd bumped into earlier stood with arms crossed, amusement gleaming in their eyes—like cats toying with a cornered mouse.
The one with the huge forehead leaned forward, mock concern dripping from his voice."Whoa, slow down, champ. Planning to trip your way into the tournament? Or is that your secret technique?"
The second scoffed, eyes scanning Ito like he was beneath notice."Can't believe they let just anyone in these days. What's next? Stable boys dueling nobles? Oh wait... they already are."
The third gave a dramatic gasp, covering his mouth."Don't tell me—he actually signed up? Gods help us. We'll need a stretcher just for the embarrassment."
They burst into loud, obnoxious laughter, drawing annoyed glances.
"If you get lost looking for the servants' quarters, just follow the scent of desperation," the big forehead sneered."Maybe if you start crying now, they'll give you a mercy ribbon — 'Most Courageous Peasant' or something."
Their words stung—sharp, petty, dripping with noble arrogance.
Sara stepped forward, icy and unwavering.The boys faltered, taken aback by the silent threat in her gaze.With one glance, they shrank back, fear creeping into their smug faces.
The big forehead boy hissed a frustrated "tch" and shook his head.Without another word, the three turned and left, their laughter lingering like a bad smell.
"Ito... they're not wrong," Sara said quietly."Your hands are in terrible shape. You shouldn't compete like this."
"Huh... but—" Ito froze, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Sara's right. You should rest," Shion added gently, concern creasing her brow.
A hush rippled through the crowd.
A towering figure stepped forward, parting the students like waves around a ship.
Broad-shouldered and built like a fortress, he moved with quiet authority.
Cold blue eyes scanned the scene beneath tousled black hair, settling on Ito and his friends.
"You kids there!" His voice rumbled like distant thunder—firm but not unkind."What's going on? Why are you just standing around? Others are waiting, you know."
"Nothing serious, sir," the registration officer replied."It's just that this kid's hands are in bad shape, so he's not fit for the tournament."
Chief Kaito glanced at Ito's hands, gaze firm."He's right, kid. Let it go—forget the tournament."
A sudden heaviness wrapped around Ito like a tightening chain.His heartbeat pounded in his ears, louder than the murmurs around him.
The crowd's chatter dulled into a hum, drowned beneath Kaito's words.
His bruised, trembling hands hung useless at his sides.His knees threatened to buckle.
He couldn't look up.
The weight of disappointment and helplessness crushed down like a stormcloud ready to burst.
Everyone felt distant yet pressing in—watching. Judging.
His throat closed.
No words came. Just silence. Suffocating.
A storm raged inside him. Doubt slithered in.
Maybe they're right... maybe I really can't do this.
His fists clenched.
Pain shot through his wounds—but that wasn't what held him back.
Just give up...
Silence.
Then—
No.
A flicker. A crack in the dark.
No... No... No!
His shoulders tensed. Teeth gritted.
If I give up now... I'm still the same worthless version of myself.
Everything I've done—would mean nothing.
His heart beat with a new rhythm—slow but rising.
Fear hadn't vanished. But something deeper burned behind it.
"Zun."
Ito's head dropped in a heavy bow, emotions crashing with it.
"I know you're right, sir," he said, voice trembling."But this might be my last chance to stand beside my friends in this tournament.So please... let me try."
Chief Kaito studied him silently.
"Sorry, kid—rules are rules," he said, then paused.
His eyes narrowed.
"But if you're really that determined..." His voice dropped, almost a dare."Then promise me this—win the tournament."
His gaze sharpened.
"Because if you lose... you and your friends will never be allowed to enter it again."
Ito's eyes widened, wavering between shock and resolve.
His fate now hung on a single promise.