I pushed the ornate box back toward Marcus, watching his hopeful expression falter.


    "I can''t ept this," I said firmly.


    "Mr. Knight, please reconsider—" he began, his voice tinged with desperation.


    "You misunderstand," I interrupted. "I don''t need payment to help you."


    Marcus blinked, confusion recing disappointment. "I don''t follow."


    "I''ll fight for your school against the Donovans," I rified. "Free of charge."


    His mouth fell open slightly. "But... why would you do that?"


    I thought of Den Donovan''s smug face, of Nora''s cruel smirk, of Lucas Rhodes''s arrogance. "Let''s just say your rivals and I have unfinished business. Besides," I added with a slight smile, "you asked politely. That''s rare enough these days to warrant some consideration."


    "There''s something you should know," Marcus said hesitantly. "Den has been boasting that he''s hired an inner strength expert for thepetition—someone quite formidable."


    I couldn''t help but chuckle. "If he''s anything like Lucas Rhodes, I''m not concerned."


    Relief washed over Marcus''s features. "Then you''ll do it? You''ll represent the Valerius School?"


    "I''ll be there," I promised. "When and where?"


    "Tomorrow at noon. Havenwood City Gymnasium," he replied eagerly. "I can''t thank you enough, Mr. Knight."


    As Marcus departed, practically bouncing with newfound confidence, ric gave me a curious look.


    "You''re just full of surprises tonight, aren''t you?"


    I shrugged. "Consider it a warm-up before our training begins."


    ---


    The following day, I found myself approaching the Havenwood City Gymnasium with Eamon Greene and ric nking me. We were runningte—a minor emergency at Eamon''s shop had dyed us.


    "Are you sure about this, Liam?" Eamon asked, keeping his voice low. "Getting involved in these martial arts school rivalries can be messy business."


    "I''m not exactly known for staying out of trouble," I replied dryly.


    As we neared the entrance, I could already hear raised voices echoing from within—one particrly smug and condescending. Den Donovan was clearly enjoying himself.


    We slipped inside quietly. The gymnasium was arranged with a central fighting tform surrounded by rows of seats, most already filled with spectators. Marcus Valerius stood alone on one side of the tform, looking increasingly ufortable as Den Donovan and his entourage taunted him from the opposite end.


    "Is this some kind of joke, Valerius?" Den called out, his voice carrying across the entire space. "Where''s this champion of yours? Or was that just another empty boast?"


    Marcus maintained hisposure, though I could see the strain in his shoulders. "He''ll be here."


    A younger man—undoubtedly Lucas Rhodes—stepped forward with a sneer. He''d recovered from our encounter, though the way he kept rolling his shoulders suggested lingering difort. "Maybe he got cold feet when he heard I''d be his opponent."


    "More likely he doesn''t exist," chimed in Nora Donovan, looking particrly pleased with herself. Her eyes scanned the crowd. "I think poor Marcus is about to suffer another humiliating defeat."


    The crowd murmured, some sympathetic toward Marcus, others clearly enjoying the spectacle. The Valerius students shifted awkwardly, their faith in their master visibly wavering.


    "Marcus," Den called out with mock sympathy, "why prolong this? Your mystery fighter hasn''t shown up. Just concede now and save yourself the embarrassment."


    "Twenty more minutes," Marcus insisted, checking the entrance again. When he didn''t see me, his expression fell slightly.


    Lucas stepped onto the tform, spreading his arms wide. "Why wait? I''m ready now. Or perhaps," he smirked, "you''d like to fight me yourself, old man? Show everyone what the mighty Valerius technique is worth."


    Marcus hesitated. I could see the calction in his eyes—weighing the humiliation of fighting and likely losing versus the shame of backing down entirely. He squared his shoulders and moved toward the tform.


    That was my cue.


    "Mr. Valerius," I called out clearly, my voice cutting through the tension, "I''m sorry for beingte."


    Every head in the gymnasium turned toward me. Den''s smug expression froze. Lucas''s eyes widened in recognition and then narrowed with barely contained fury. But it was Nora whose reaction was most satisfying—her face drained of color as she grabbed her father''s sleeve.


    "That''s him," she hissed, audible in the sudden silence. "That''s the man who humiliated Lucas!"


    I strode forward confidently, Eamon and ric following a step behind. Marcus''s relief was palpable as I approached.


    "I hope I haven''t caused too much trouble with my tardiness," I said, loud enough for all to hear.


    "You!" Den sputtered, finding his voice. "What are you doing here?"


    I turned to face him with a pleasant smile. "I''m the fighter Mr. Valerius mentioned. Is there a problem?"


    Lucas had backed away from the edge of the tform, his previous bravado evaporating. "Father, this is a setup," he growled. "They deliberately brought in an outsider to—"


    "Isn''t that exactly what you did?" I interrupted, nodding toward Lucas. "Or is Mr. Rhodes here a long-standing member of the Donovan family that I wasn''t aware of?"


    Den''s face flushed. "That''s different. We hired Lucas as an instructor months ago."


    "Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Strange that he was introducing himself as a ''guest'' at your dinner party just yesterday."


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Den''s lie was transparent, and everyone knew it.


    "It doesn''t matter," Den recovered quickly. "The rules allow for each school to field their chosen representative. If Marcus wants to embarrass himself by sending a nobody against Lucas Rhodes, that''s his decision."


    I removed my outer robe, handing it to ric. "Shall we begin then? I have other appointments today." <strong ss="story-note-vis">This сhаptеr is frоm thе соllесtiоn аt М-VL-ЕМ-РYR.</strong>


    "Wait," Nora stepped forward, her eyes calcting. "How do we know this isn''t just some random person Marcus found? There need to be stakes worthy of thispetition."


    "What do you propose?" Marcus asked warily.


    Den''s smile returned, predatory and confident. "If your man loses, the Valerius School will publicly acknowledge the superiority of the Donovan method and rmend all your students transfer to our school."


    Gasps rose from the Valerius students. Such a concession would effectively end their school''s existence.


    "And if your man loses?" I asked before Marcus could respond.


    "He won''t," Den said dismissively.


    "But if he does," I pressed, "the Donovan School will issue a public apology for today''s insults and admit that the Valerius technique is superior."


    Den scoffed. "Fine. It''s not going to happen anyway."


    Marcus looked at me uncertainly. "Mr. Knight, are you sure about this? The future of my school—"


    "Is perfectly safe," I assured him, rolling my shoulders to loosen them. "Shall we begin?"


    Lucas climbed back onto the tform, affecting confidence for the crowd though his eyes betrayed his nervousness. "I''ll enjoy making you kneel properly this time," he said, just loudly enough for me to hear.


    I stepped onto the tform, settling into a rxed stance. "One chance, Lucas. Step down now, and you can keep what little dignity you have left."


    His response was a snarl as he dropped into a fighting posture. The referee, a nervous-looking man who kept ncing between Den and Marcus, stepped forward.


    "The match will continue until onepetitor yields or is rendered unable to continue," he announced. "Are both fighters ready?"


    I nodded calmly while Lucas gave a tense "Yes."


    "Begin!" the referee called, quickly jumping back from the tform.


    Lucas circled cautiously, his earlier brashness tempered by the memory of ourst encounter. The crowd had fallenpletely silent, the tension palpable.


    "What are you waiting for?" Nora called from the sidelines. "He''s just standing there! Attack!"


    Lucas''s jaw tightened at hermand. He lunged forward with a series of rapid strikes, each one aimed at vital points—a killing technique disguised as apetition move.


    I didn''t move, letting his fiste within a hair''s breadth of my face before tilting my head slightly. The crowd gasped at the near miss.


    "Is that the best the famous Lucas Rhodes can offer?" I asked, my voice carrying through the gymnasium. "I expected more after all that boasting."