Chapter 34 — Aric’s Next Opponent

The roar of the crowd faded slightly in Prince Aric’s mind. His chest heaved, sweat trickling down his temples, but his focus was razor-sharp. The lessons Kaelen had drilled into him over months of secret training had prepared him for this moment—but this match would test everything.

Across the arena stood his next opponent: Sir Dalen, a veteran of the knight squads, known for his lightning-fast strikes and ruthless precision. Ranked just below Aric’s squad in reputation, Dalen carried the confidence of a man who had never faced someone like the prince.

“Aric Drayce,” Dalen called out, his voice ringing with arrogance. “I hope you’ve trained more than your speeches suggest. I’ll make this quick.”

Aric’s golden eyes narrowed. He adjusted his stance, recalling Kaelen’s guidance. Observation, adaptation, precision. Copy not to mimic, but to understand and improve.

The first strike came fast—a blur of steel aiming for Aric’s left side. He dodged, countering with a precise thrust. Dalen’s eyes widened. “You’re faster… more aware than I expected.”

Aric’s mind raced. Each of Dalen’s movements was a test. Every strike, feint, and pivot taught him something about his opponent. He remembered Kaelen’s words: Fight not just with strength, but with understanding. Anticipate, adapt, and surpass.

Dalen launched a spinning attack, aiming to overwhelm Aric’s guard. Aric responded, not with brute force, but with calculated precision. His sword met Dalen’s, the clash ringing sharply through the arena. Sparks flew, and the crowd leaned forward in anticipation.

“You’ve improved,” Dalen admitted, breathing heavily. “But I’ve faced countless opponents. Can you truly match me?”

Aric’s lips curved slightly. “I’m not alone.”

Kaelen’s calm voice echoed faintly in Aric’s memory. Trust your instincts. Every opponent teaches you something. You carry not only your strength, but what you’ve learned.

Emboldened, Aric unleashed a series of strikes, each faster, sharper, and more controlled than the last. Dalen tried to adapt, but the prince’s movements flowed seamlessly, combining his own style with the subtle adaptations he had learned from Kaelen.

Finally, with a swift pivot, Aric disarmed Dalen, pointing his sword at the knight’s chest. The arena erupted in cheers.

Dalen lowered his head in respect. “I… I concede. You’ve truly grown. The stories of your master… perhaps they were right. You’ve learned well.”

Aric exhaled, lowering his sword, heart pounding with exhilaration. The first real test of Kaelen’s teachings had succeeded. But he knew this was only the beginning.

From the shadows, Kaelen watched silently, his golden eyes calm and approving. Aric had grown, yes—but there were still countless levels of strength, strategy, and mastery to climb. The tournament was far from over, and the prince’s journey toward true mastery had only just begun.

Princess Lysandra’s eyes gleamed with pride and curiosity, while the crowd’s excitement reached a fever pitch. The Royal Grand Tournament had become not just a contest of skill, but a stage for legends in the making.