The roar of the crowd hit Erry like a physical wave the moment he stepped into the enclosed training arena. The sun was high, pouring sharp light over the sand-covered floor, and every inch of the stands was packed with beastmen—wolves, lions, tigers, bears, foxes, and countless other tribes—buzzing with raw anticipation.
No one here truly knew who he was.
No one here knew what he was capable of.
And that, ironically, was the exact reason Elder Towal insisted this duel be "public."
Erry rolled his shoulders once, the joints cracking quietly beneath his skin, then exhaled a long breath. He didn't feel nervous. He rarely did. But he did feel… irritated.
All this noise for a simple sparring session, he thought.
Across the arena stood General Killu of the Lupine Tribe, his snow-grey fur coat rustling slightly in the wind, his heavy armor gleaming. His golden eyes were sharp—far sharper than any beastman watching. Unlike the crowd, Killu had seen Erry fight. He knew enough to be cautious.
Their eyes met.
Killu inclined his head solemnly. "I'll be going all out. I owe you at least that much, Erry."
Erry raised a brow. "Do whatever you want. Just don't complain later."
The crowd exploded, taking Erry's words as arrogance. Some shouted insults. Others laughed. Others booed.
Erry ignored them all.
He had far more pressing concerns than impressing a horde of beastmen.
---
Meanwhile…
Lyra de Ulfo Feleris walked along the upper corridor of the training grounds, her steps slow and uncertain. She had spent days locked in her room—recovering from the incident, avoiding the whispers, avoiding the looks, avoiding the world.
But today, something finally pushed her feet out the door.
The noise.
The thunder of voices.
The unmistakable energy of excitement.
She frowned slightly and tugged her thin cloak closer to her body. "What is happening…?"
The servant assigned to escort her—a fox beastman with lazy, half-lidded eyes—didn't bother to hide his annoyance.
"A duel, Lady Lyra. General Killu versus the human."
His tone was flat, bordering on disrespectful, but Lyra didn't react. She barely even heard the tone. Only the content.
"A duel?" she repeated softly.
"Yes." The servant shrugged. "Something about morale. Or maybe entertainment. Who knows."
Lyra stopped listening after that.
Her heart unexpectedly tightened.
Erry…? Fighting? With Killu? Why—why would they do that?
Without thinking, she rushed toward the balcony overlooking the training ground, pushing past a few beastmen who grumbled when she brushed their shoulders. She didn't apologize. She simply leaned forward and looked down.
And her breath caught.
Erry stood in the center of the arena, seemingly unbothered by the magnitude of the audience. He looked calm—too calm, even compared to the intimidating figure that was General Killu opposite him.
The sight stirred something confusing and heavy in Lyra's chest.
---
Elder Towal raised a hand.
Silence fell like a sweeping curtain.
"This match," the elder announced, "is a sparring exhibition between General Killu and the human guest, Erry. Magic is prohibited. Killing blows are prohibited. Excessive damage is prohibited."
The crowd murmured, half excited, half disappointed.
Elder Towal continued, "Begin when ready."
He swung his hand downward.
A resounding bell rang.
The duel began.
Killu moved first.
Fast.
Very fast.
A blur of fur and muscle and the crack of clawed feet against stone.
Erry watched him approach.
Then—
CLANG!
Killu's blade met Erry's.
The shockwave blasted a circle of dust outward, forcing even some spectators to lean back. Gasps erupted.
Erry held his ground with one hand on the sword.
Just one.
Murmurs spread through the stands.
Killu narrowed his eyes.
"Still holding back?"
Erry tilted his head. "I could ask you the same."
The general grinned.
Then unleashed a relentless torrent of blows.
Killu struck with the precision of a veteran commander: heavy slashes, quick feints, foot sweeps, and rapid combinations meant to overwhelm even the most hardened warriors.
Erry blocked them all.
Smoothly.
Effortlessly.
Without even changing his expression.
To the average viewer, it looked like a clash of equals.
To Killu, who fought him face-to-face, it was anything but.
He's adjusting to my strikes… in real-time…
He's matching my strength perfectly…
No—he's lowering himself to match me.
It made him both angry and impressed.
But the crowd had no idea.
To them, Erry was struggling.
To them, Killu was dominating.
To them, the general was overwhelming the human.
Exactly as Elder Towal wanted.
Exactly as Erry allowed.
---
Her small fingers clutched the stone railing.
He was strong.
Way stronger than she ever expected.
Each clash shook the arena, and yet Erry didn't seem strained at all. He fought with a blank expression, as though this were nothing more than a morning warm-up.
Lyra's ears flattened behind her head.
Something about that made her chest hurt.
Not because Erry was strong.
But because he looked… unbearably alone.
Standing in a sea of roaring beastmen, yet completely detached from all of them.
Like a lone star in a winter sky.
Then again—what did she know about him?
She barely understood him.
He wasn't like the prince her mother once described.
He wasn't gentle-looking.
He wasn't soft-spoken.
He wasn't a figure bathed in moonlight.
He was rough.
Sharp.
Hard to understand.
So why… why did her heart twist like this?
Killu leaped backward, panting lightly, then lowered his stance.
"Alright, Erry," he growled with a sharp grin. "If you insist on holding back, fine. But at least let me enjoy myself."
He stomped his foot into the ground.
The earth cracked.
The beastman general vanished—
—and reappeared behind Erry.
THOOM!
Erry parried backward without even looking.
"Predictable," he muttered.
"What was that?" Killu barked.
"Nothing."
Their swords locked again.
Killu hissed, "Stop playing around."
Erry lowered his voice. "If I don't, this entire arena will collapse."
The general froze for half a second.
And that was exactly when Erry stepped back.
With a deliberate opening.
Killu's eyes widened.
He's letting me hit him.
Erry kept his stance open anyway.
A message.
Do it, idiot. They need to see you win.
With a restrained growl, Killu swung his blade, striking Erry clean across the midsection with the flat side—hard enough to send him flying across the arena and rolling across the dirt.
The crowd erupted.
"General Killu!"
"Crush that human!"
"Show him beastman might!"
Lyra's heart lurched.
She gripped the railing harder.
Erry coughed once, pushed himself up… and smiled dryly.
"Huh. You didn't hold back."
"You told me not to."
"Fair enough."
Erry charged this time—but not at full force. Just enough to meet Killu head-on.
Their blades clashed once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then Erry deliberately shifted his balance a fraction too slow—
—and Killu slammed a powerful kick into his side.
BOOM!
Erry skidded across the dirt, sword flying from his hand and stabbing into the ground several meters away.
Elder Towal immediately raised his staff.
"The match is decided! Victory to General Killu!"
The stands shook with cheers.
Killu lowered his sword.
He didn't smile in triumph.
Instead, he bowed deeply toward Erry.
"Thank you," he whispered quietly, too soft for anyone else to hear.
Erry dusted off his shoulder. "Don't mention it. You needed the morale boost more than I did."
"You could have won."
Erry shrugged. "Winning is troublesome."
Killu snorted. "You're unbelievable."
Beastmen flooded the stands with renewed fervor.
"That human is impressive—even in defeat!"
"Maybe they aren't all weak after all."
"General Killu is unbeatable!"
"I want to fight that human too!"
Erry sighed.
He hated attention.
Why did losing cause more attention than winning?
Hidden behind the railings, Lyra watched Erry get back on his feet—calm, unaffected, almost bored.
And something inside her cracked.
He's not…
He's not him. He's not the prince Mother spoke of.
He's nothing like the moonlit figure she described.
How could he be?
She turned away.
Her ears drooped.
Shoulders slumped.
She walked quickly—almost running—down the corridor, ignoring her servant and ignoring the murmurs around her.
Her chest felt tight.
Her breath uneven.
She didn't understand why.
All she knew—
—was that the hope she had secretly nurtured for years flickered.
And the person she had unconsciously compared to her mother's prophecy…
…wasn't the person she thought.
Erry noticed movement in the corner of his eye.
Lyra's figure.
Her small frame turning away.
Her downcast head.
Her trembling shoulders.
Her disappointment.
It hit him harder than Killu's attacks.
Erry's brows tightened.
"…What was that about?"