I stood in the center of the arena, watching Micah Ortiz''s internal struggle y out across his face. The crowd''s attention hung on his next move after I''d walked away, effectively ending our match withoutnding a single blow.


    His pride warred with reality. I saw the moment when eptance finally won.


    Micah straightened his shoulders and raised his voice for all to hear. "I, Micah Ortiz, acknowledge my defeat to Liam Knight of Eldoria."


    His public concession silenced the crowd. This wasn''t expected—I''d already attempted to end the match by walking away.


    "Liam Knight''s understanding of martial principles exceeds mine," Micah continued, his voice carrying across the stunned arena. "I have much to learn."


    The referee hesitated before raising my hand. "The winner of this match, and champion of the Eldoria Battle Zone—Liam Knight!"


    Apuse erupted, scattered at first, then swelling into thunderous approval. I nodded respectfully to Micah, acknowledging the cost of his public admission.


    "That wasn''t necessary," I told him quietly.


    "It was," he replied, eyes downcast. "Commander Bellweather would expect nothing less than honesty from his disciples."


    As we left the arena together, I noticed Commander Wood watching from the sidelines, hisplexion ashen. When our eyes met, he quickly looked away.


    "Yourmander seems troubled," I remarked to Micah.


    Micah nced over. "He has reason to be. You''ve upset the expected order of things."


    "How so?"


    "By defeating me so decisively, you''ve potentially created problems between Commander Wood and my master, Ignazio Bellweather." Micah lowered his voice. "Politics between battle zones is...plicated."


    I frowned. I had no interest in bing a pawn in their power games.


    "Knight!" A young aide rushed toward me, slightly out of breath. "Commander Bellweather requests your presence immediately."


    Micah''s eyebrows shot up. "That''s unusual."


    "Where?" I asked the aide.


    "The VIP observation room, sir. Please follow me."


    As I walked behind the nervous aide, I sensed eyes tracking my movement. News of my victory—and now this summons—was already spreading through whispered conversations.


    The VIP room was spacious and elegantly appointed, withrge windows overlooking the arena below. Standing at one of these windows, hands sped behind his back, was Ignazio Bellweather.


    "Sir, Liam Knight has arrived," the aide announced before quickly retreating.


    Bellweather turned slowly. He was imposing up close—tall and broad-shouldered, with keen eyes that seemed to prate right through me. His reputation as the "War God" suddenly felt well-earned.


    "Mr. Knight," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Your performance today was extraordinary."


    I bowed slightly. "Thank you, Commander."


    "Please, sit." He gestured to an ornate chair. "Would you care for tea?"


    The invitation felt loaded with significance. I sat cautiously. "Yes, thank you."


    As he poured the steaming liquid with practiced movements, I noted the strength in his hands—the slight calluses that spoke of decades of martial training.


    "You humbled my disciple today," he said, handing me a delicate porcin cup. "But more importantly, you taught him something valuable."


    I sipped the fragrant tea. "That wasn''t my intention."


    "Yet it happened all the same." Bellweather smiled faintly. "Intentions matter less than oues, don''t you think?"


    "Sometimes," I conceded. "Though I generally prefer my oues to match my intentions."


    Heughed, a rich sound that seemed at odds with his severe appearance. "Well said. You''re cautious with your words—another admirable trait."


    The conversation felt like a chess match, each statement carrying hidden meaning. I decided to wait for him to reveal his purpose.


    After a thoughtful silence, Bellweather set down his cup. "I''ve been watching your progress through this tournament with interest, Mr. Knight. Your techniques reveal training that is... unusual for someone from Eldoria."


    "I''ve had diverse influences," I replied neutrally.


    "Clearly." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Your potential is exceptional. It would be a shame to see it wasted or misdirected."


    Here ites, I thought. <kbd ss="ref-23c420">Check My Virtual Library Empire (*) for thetest updates.</kbd>


    "I''d like to offer you an opportunity, Mr. Knight." Bellweather leaned forward. "Be my disciple. Train under my direct guidance at Pyro."


    The offer hung in the air between us. I understood immediately what this meant—an opportunity that countless martial artists would kill for. Training under the War God himself would open doors that would otherwise remain forever closed.


    It would also ce me firmly under his control.


    "I''m honored by your offer, Commander," I said carefully. "Truly. But I must decline."


    His expression didn''t change, but something shifted in his eyes. "May I ask why?"


    "I value my freedom," I answered honestly. "And I have obligations that require my attention."


    "The Ashworth family," he stated rather than asked.


    I didn''t confirm or deny it.


    Bellweather nodded slowly. "I respect your decision, though I admit to finding it unusual. Few would turn down such an opportunity."


    "I understand the value of what you''re offering," I assured him. "But my path must remain my own."


    "Even if that path bes unnecessarily difficult?" His voice remained pleasant, but there was steel beneath it now. "The protection of a master like myself carries significant benefits in our world, Mr. Knight."


    "I''m aware of the dangers," I said. "I''ll face them as theye."


    He studied me for a long moment before his expression softened. "Very well. Your independence speaks well of your character, even if it frustrates my ns."


    Standing, he extended his hand. I rose and shook it firmly.


    "Remember this, Liam Knight," he said, grip tightening slightly. "I hold no ill will toward you for your decision today. But should you ever be an enemy of Pyro or its interests, I will personally ensure your destruction. Are we clear?"


    "Crystal," I replied, meeting his gaze steadily.


    His smile returned as he released my hand. "Excellent. I look forward to watching your continued progress from afar."


    As I left the room, I knew that this encounter would have far-reaching consequences. Refusing Ignazio Bellweather was almost unheard of, and his conditional threat wasn''t idle.


    I''d made a powerful maybe-ally, maybe-enemy today.


    ---


    News traveled quickly. By evening, the entire martial artsmunity was buzzing with rumors about my meeting with the War God. Some versions imed I''d be his secret disciple; others suggested I''d somehow offended him mortally.


    I sat alone in my temporary quarters, contemting my next move. The tournament was effectively over for me—my victory assured the Eldoria team''s advancement. My thoughts drifted to Isabelle and her father. I needed to return to them soon.


    A knock at my door interrupted my nning.


    "Come in," I called.


    A fellowpetitor from our team entered, his expression anxious. "Knight, everyone''s talking about your meeting with Bellweather. What happened?"


    "Nothing important," I deflected. "Just a formality after the match."


    He looked skeptical. "That''s not what people are saying. Word is he offered to take you under his wing."


    I shrugged. "People talk."


    "So it''s true?" His eyes widened. "And you refused him?"


    "I need to get back to Havenwood," I said instead of answering directly. "When does our transport leave?"


    Recognizing my unwillingness to discuss the matter further, he provided the information before retreating, no doubt to share thistest development with others.


    I packed my few belongings, thinking about my brief time in thispetition. What had started as a mission to gain resources for Michael Ashworth''s treatment had turned into something much moreplicated. I''d unintentionally positioned myself in the spotlight of the martial world''s attention.


    I wasn''t sure if that would help or hinder my ultimate goals.


    ---


    In Veridia City, Dashiell ckthorne paced his luxurious study. Therge windows offered a panoramic view of the city below, but his attention was fixed inward, on the fury building within him.


    "How dare that country nobody continue interfering with my ns?" he muttered, mming his fist on his mahogany desk. "First he gains Michael Ashworth''s favor, now he''s making connections throughout the martial world."


    Dashiell''s hatred for Liam Knight had been steadily growing since their first encounter. Initially, he''d viewed Liam as a minor irritant, an upstart who had somehow caught Isabelle Ashworth''s attention. But as Liam''s influence expanded and his power grew more evident, that irritation had transformed into genuine concern.


    "The Ashworth family is mine to conquer," he hissed to himself. "Isabelle is mine by right. I won''t let some nobody from nowhere change that."


    A knock interrupted his brooding.


    "Enter," he barked.


    His family steward stepped in, his expression wary. "Mr. ckthorne, I''ve brought the reports you requested on Knight''s tournament performance."


    "And?" Dashiell demanded.


    "He... he won his division quite convincingly, sir."


    "Tell me something I don''t already know," Dashiell snapped. "What about his techniques? His weaknesses?"


    The steward shifted ufortably. "The observers noted that hisbat style is unlike anything they''ve seen before. There appears to be no obvious weakness to exploit."


    Dashiell''s face darkened. "That''s absurd. Everyone has weaknesses."


    "Yes, sir. Of course, sir." The steward hesitated before continuing. "There''s something else you should know."


    "Spit it out."


    The steward took a deep breath. "Mr. Knight was summoned to a private meeting with Commander Ignazio Bellweather following his match."


    Dashiell froze. "Bellweather? The War God himself?"


    "Yes, sir." The steward nodded. "Our sources couldn''t determine exactly what was discussed, but the meetingsted over an hour."


    Dashiell''s mind raced with implications. Ignazio Bellweather was one of the most powerful figures in the martial world, with connections that reached into every major institution and family. If he had taken an interest in Liam Knight...


    "Find out what happened in that meeting," Dashiell ordered. "Use whatever resources necessary."


    "Yes, Mr. ckthorne."


    Before the steward could leave, another knock came at the door. Dashiell scowled at the interruption.


    "What now?"


    A younger aide entered, clearly nervous. "Forgive me, Mr. ckthorne, but we just received urgent information from our contact at the tournament."


    "And?"


    The aide nced at the steward, then back to Dashiell. "Sir, there''s some bad news... I just received word that Ignazio Bellweather has expressed an interest in taking Liam Knight as his disciple."


    The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees as Dashiell''s expression hardened into cold fury. His grip tightened on the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white.


    "Get out," he whispered. "Both of you."


    They fled, closing the door behind them.


    Alone again, Dashiell stared out at the city lights, his reflection in the window showing a man barely containing his rage.


    "This changes everything," he murmured. "Knight is no longer just an annoyance—he''s bing a genuine threat."


    He would need to elerate his ns. The time for subtle maneuvering wasing to an end.