A week ter, it was time for the Round Two matches, the gateway to the Celestial Knights. Sarn stood in the loud, bustling arena, her heart pounding against her ribs. All around her were voices—cheers, encouragements, critiques. Yet none of them were for her.

  As her name was called, she stepped forward, her sword heavy in her hand once more. The cheers died down, repced by an expectant silence. She felt every pair of eyes on her, each one silently judging.

  Her chest tightened. She wasn’t ready. She knew she would lose.

  But losing wasn’t the worst part.

  What haunted her was the fear of not even looking like she belonged. Of making a fool of herself in front of everyone. She gripped her sword tightly, stepping into the ring.

  The match began, Sarn braced herself, unsure if she would walk away with anything other than another failure.The girl came at Sarn with an overhead strike, her sword gleaming as water spiraled around it like a living force. Sarn raised her bde just in time to block, the csh of metal reverberating through her arms. The impact sent a jolt down her body, her grip faltering for a brief moment.

  Steeling herself, Sarn tried to unch a counterattack. But as her sword swung forward, pain shot through her right arm—a sharp sting that made her gasp. Her strike wavered, falling short.

  Her opponent stepped back, fixing her stance with precision, her weapon now encircled by even stronger currents of water. Sarn's heart sank. She had no idea how to deal with this. The girl’s movements were deliberate, confident, as if she had already won.

  Sarn’s mind raced. She couldn’t match this skill, not yet. But she couldn’t quit either—not when she’d come this far. If she could just st a few more moments, make the fight look respectable, maybe even turn the tide with a miracle strike...

  The girl surged forward, her bde arcing down with tremendous force. Water streamed alongside the sword, reducing friction and adding weight to every swing. Sarn raised her bde again to block, but the pressure was too much. Her stance buckled, her feet sliding on the dampened ground. The strength behind the attack pushed her back, her arms trembling from the strain.

  Then it happened. Her grip failed. The force broke through her defense, the girl’s bde nding a clean strike that sent Sarn sprawling. She hit the ground, her sword cttering beside her.

  The match was over.

  Lying there, breathless and defeated, Sarn felt the familiar sting of failure. Yet, as the crowd murmured around her, she clung to a quiet sense of accomplishment. She’d fought longer than she’d expected, made the fight look better than she’d thought possible. It wasn’t a victory, but it wasn’t nothing.

  Her opponent offered her a hand. Sarn hesitated before taking it, pulling herself up with a faint smile. Even in loss, she was still standing—and that had to count for something.