The clang of steel echoes through the empty training grounds. The air is thick with the scent of dust and sweat, the remnants of countless battles fought here. A lone figure moves through the dimly lit space, hands brushing over a set of polished armor.

  Jeeva enters, his voice breaking the silence.

  Jeeva: "Hey Siya, don’t you even want to talk to me?"

  Siya doesn’t turn, her hands steady as she dusts off her armor.

  Siya: "Go away."

  Jeeva steps closer, his voice softer now.

  Jeeva: "I know… I know."

  Siya’s grip tightens.

  Siya: "You know nothing."

  Jeeva lets out a small chuckle, but there’s no humor in it.

  Jeeva: "Believe me, if I were not destined as a Ras… I would have chosen to be a Rath, to be with you. You made me what I am."

  He watches as her fingers hesitate for a fraction of a second.

  Jeeva: "Despite being a Ras, I was allowed to fight, to stand in this sword arena, to witness the chaos of a Rath’s life… all because of you. But now… since my partner has been chosen, as promised, I will never fight again. The adventures we had, the battles, the thrill… all of it ends today. I just want to spend this last day in the arena, one last time, with you."

  For the first time, Siya turns to face him. Her eyes are red, unshed tears glistening in the dim light. Her voice is quiet but firm.

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  Siya: "You fool."

  She doesn’t wait for his response. Instead, she picks up a sword and throws it toward him.

  Siya: "Let’s play one last game—until I defeat you again."

  Jeeva catches the sword mid-air, a grin spreading across his face.

  Jeeva: "Now that’s the Siya I know!"

  He leaps onto the arena platform, his body moving with the ease of someone who has done this a hundred times. Siya follows, tightening the strap of her armor.

  For a moment, they just stand there, facing each other. Then, without warning, Siya charges.

  She aims for his feet—a classic Rath move. Jeeva jumps back, using his momentum to strike at her sword, trying to break it. The blade cracks, but Siya doesn’t stop. Even with a half-broken weapon, she fights on.

  Their swords clash in rapid succession, neither willing to back down. Sweat drips from their brows, but neither loses focus.

  Jeeva: "I’ve improved, Siya!"

  Siya suddenly shifts, preparing for her signature move—an attack Jeeva has always struggled against. He barely dodges, landing on one knee.

  Siya lowers her blade.

  For the first time, she hesitates. Then, with a deep breath, she drops her sword and steps forward, wrapping her arms around him.

  Jeeva blinks, momentarily stunned. Then, he smirks.

  Jeeva: "Oh, almighty Siya, I bow to your greatness."

  Siya punches his shoulder, her eyes still glistening.She embraces him with a hug.

  A voice interrupts them from the sidelines.

  Sen Nemi: "You two… you show the true beauty of spirit."

  Jeeva and Siya look up. Nemi, the Sen of the Rath army, stands watching them, arms crossed.

  Sen Nemi: "Jeeva, as you leave today, I thank you for being here. I hope you find happiness in your Ras life."

  Jeeva exhales, glancing at Siya one last time.

  Jeeva: "It was my pleasure, Sen Nemi."

  He reaches into his belt, pulling out a small object. A dagger, its sheath adorned with golden jewels. He hands it to her.

  Jeeva: "This is for you, my teacher."

  Siya takes the dagger, her fingers trembling slightly. She doesn’t say a word.

  Jeeva gives her one final smile before turning away.

  As he disappears from sight, Siya remains in the arena. Alone.

  She slowly unsheathes the dagger, staring at the golden details.

  Her hands tighten around it. Her shoulders tremble.

  She looks to the side, where a small drawing rests—one of her and Jeeva, from long ago.

  A tear falls onto the parchment.

  Siya: "I wish… I were a Ras."

  The candlelight flickers, casting shadows across the empty arena.

  And for the first time, Siya lets herself cry.