Caleb's jaw clenched as Ryker's venomous words wormed their way into his mind, but he tightened his grip on his sword hilt, fighting to keep his anger in check. Taking a measured breath, Caleb forced his rage to the surface, his voice low and cutting. "You've made your choice, Vexmoor. Now stand by it." His voice rose, fierce and unyielding. "You don't know anything about her! You're just a coward hiding behind your insults!"

  Ryker's lips curled into a taunting smile, unfazed by Caleb's outburst. He knew precisely which buttons to push, relishing the opportunity to unsettle the young lord. The air crackled with tension as the two men faced off, a battle of wills and words that threatened to erupt into something far more volatile.

  The tension crackled as Caleb readied his blade, the steel gleaming in the faint light. Every line of his stance is taut with a silent, deadly promise. The crowd gathered in silence, their eyes fixed upon the combatants, each person seemingly holding their breath in anticipation. They sensed that this clash would be unlike any they had witnessed before, a confrontation that would push the limits of their expectations and leave an indelible mark on the proceedings.

  Ryker shrugged off Caleb’s words with a smug smirk, drawing his own blade in response. The two weapons met with a resounding clash that echoed through the Safe Zone, sending a jolt of anticipation through the crowd. “I always wanted to cross swords with 'The Legend of the Dungeon'. Thanks for the excuse!” Ryker sneered. “You think you’re a hero? Here to rescue a ‘damsel in distress’?” He spat the last words with a mocking laugh.

  Caleb took a single, grounding breath, narrowing his gaze. "I'm here to remind you," he hissed, voice simmering with a lethal calm, "what happens when you cross someone who has the power to end you." His words were laced with an unspoken threat, a promise of swift and merciless retribution should his adversary fail to heed the warning. Caleb's eyes burned with a fierce determination, his stance unwavering as he made it clear that he would not be trifled with and that his power and resolve would not be underestimated.

  With a fierce roar, Caleb charged, each movement calculated but fueled by a fury that blazed hotter with each blow. His stance was that of a master swordsman, precise and unyielding yet laced with an unusual rawness that betrayed his emotions. Ryker matched him, a fiery fury in his strikes—untamed and unpredictable, forcing Caleb to anticipate each wild move.

  “Is that all you’ve got, Nightglen?” Ryker jeered, his voice dripping with venom. He barely sidestepped Caleb’s thrust, his blade grazing Caleb’s side before Caleb twisted, deflecting the blow. “You really think she’ll appreciate this? She’s using you, just like everyone else. That bitch plays the victim all the time!” Ryker laughed coldly as he danced backwards, muscles taut, ever-ready. Caleb faltered, just a heartbeat, but it was enough for Ryker to see a crack.

  Yet Caleb’s gaze flicked to Celestia, seeing the faint spark of hope in her eyes. It was enough to steel him once more, and he lunged forward, a roar tearing from his throat as he drove Ryker back.

  Caleb fought with every ounce of his being, fueled by a burning desire to protect Celestia in a rare display of unbridled ferocity. He was driven by the memories of his past, a past where he had been left vulnerable and unprotected. Now, with the power to shield another from such pain, Caleb refused to let history repeat itself. He moved with a fierce determination, his blade dancing in a deadly ballet as he parried and struck, each blow a testament to his unwavering resolve. The crowd watched in awe, their eyes wide with disbelief as they witnessed the young lord's transformation. The air crackled with energy, the clash of steel against steel ringing in their ears as Caleb and Ryker battled on, neither willing to yield.

  Ryker's taunts continued to fall on deaf ears, his cruel words bouncing off the armour of Caleb's determination. The young lord focused solely on Celestia; her safety was his only concern. He could see the fear in her eyes, the desperate plea for help that she refused to voice. It was a look he knew all too well that had haunted him for years. With every strike and parry, Caleb vowed to himself that he would not disappoint her. He would be the shield she needed, the protector she deserved.

  The battle raged on, the two men locked in a deadly dance that seemed to go on forever. The crowd held their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests as they watched the spectacle unfold. The air was thick with tension, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. And then, in a sudden burst of speed, Caleb lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Ryker stumbled, caught off guard by the unexpected attack, and for a moment, it seemed as though the battle was finally ending.

  But Ryker was not so easily defeated. With a snarl, he regained his footing, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination that matched Caleb's own. The two men circled each other, their blades at the ready, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The crowd watched silently, their eyes glued to the scene before them, their hearts pounding in their chests. The air was thick with anticipation, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the moment.

  And then, without warning, Ryker lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Caleb stumbled, caught off guard by the unexpected attack, but he refused to fall. With a roar, he pushed himself back to his feet, his blade flashing in the dim light as he countered Ryker's strike. The two men exchanged blows, their swords clashing with a deafening roar that echoed through the Safe Zone. The crowd watched in awe, their eyes wide with disbelief as they witnessed the young lord's incredible display of skill and determination.

  But even as he fought, Caleb could feel the weight of his exhaustion bearing down on him. His muscles ached, his lungs burned, and his vision swam. He knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer, not against an opponent as skilled and relentless as Ryker. But he refused to give up, not when Celestia's life was on the line. He gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he focused all of his energy on the battle before him. He would not fail her when he was so close to victory.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Their blades met, a brutal symphony of steel, each clash punctuated by gasps from the crowd. Caleb fought with an intensity that felt like wildfire—his golden eye blazing with a ferocity rarely seen. Every stroke was precise, each move honed, while Ryker countered with a brutal, erratic style that mirrored his taunts. Caleb’s calm mastery clashed with Ryker’s wild rage, a spectacle of controlled precision meeting chaotic brutality.

  “You act so high and mighty, Nightglen,” Ryker sneered between breaths, his strikes cutting dangerously close. “But you’re just another pawn, fooling yourself into thinking you can protect someone who doesn’t deserve to be saved!” He laughed, dodging another powerful thrust from Caleb, the blade grazing his side.

  Caleb’s anger surged, his strikes gaining intensity. He deflected Ryker’s blows easily, each counterattack edging closer to his opponent. “The only thing she needs protection from is you,” he growled, voice icy. Each thrust and parry grew sharper and relentless; his resolve was an iron wall Ryker struggled to overcome.

  But Ryker, ever cunning, twisted Caleb’s anger against him, sidestepping a powerful blow to drive his fist into Caleb’s ribs. Caleb staggered slightly, but the sight of Celestia, pale and trembling, brought him back, grounding him. He straightened, his voice even colder. “You don’t get to decide her worth.”

  Ryker lunged, his sword sweeping in a desperate arc. Caleb met him head-on, twisting the blade from Ryker’s grip with a single, calculated strike and sweeping his foot forward, forcing Ryker to stumble back. Ryker’s eyes momentarily flashed with panic as he looked up, recognizing the force of Caleb’s anger.

  “You’re mad, aren’t you?” Ryker’s breath came faster, blood trickling from his mouth. “Mad that she trusted me first.” He laughed, but it was hollow, edged with desperation. “You can never change that!”

  “Look at her,” Ryker snarled, his voice low and bitter. “Clinging to you like a lifeline. Do you really think you can save her? How laughable. Celestia’s curves may have turned some heads, but you and I both know she’s hardly the typical ideal choice for a hero. She’s a burden, a bloated shell, broken beyond fixing.” He sneered, his words dripping with contempt. “I used to revel in her curves, to feel her body against mine, those soft, ample curves embracing me. This Bosom! You’re a fool to waste your energy on her, a pawn in her twisted games. SHE IS MI—”

  Caleb’s fist met Ryker’s jaw before he could finish, a brutal, unrestrained strike that sent him reeling. “SHUT. UP,” Caleb’s voice trembled with uncharacteristic rage, and his next swing, wide but powerful, forced Ryker back even further.

  The crowd gasped, a ripple of shock and awe sweeping through them. But Ryker only laughed, pushing himself up, blood at the corner of his mouth. “You think you’ve won? You’re nothing, Nightglen. Just as much a fool as she is.”

  A sudden, chilling wind swept through the Safe Zone, drawing gasps from the crowd. They whispered among themselves, their awe mixed with a quiet fear. The air hummed with an ancient power as Caleb and Ryker paused mid-fight, both turning as a haunting melody filled the air.

  Caleb’s eyes snapped to Celestia, who stood with sweat beading on her brow, her body trembling as she summoned the last reserves of her strength. Despite her fragile form, her voice rose above the chaos, weaving a song that felt as old as time itself. The ground beneath her glowed in intricate runes and constellations, pulsing to the rhythm of her fading heart, the symbols almost alive, reverberating in the silence. Each note escaped her lips with visible effort, breath shallow and voice breaking, yet growing louder with each passing moment.

  With the curse gone, she had remembered something. An old song that always was in her head, and for whatever reason, she remembered that the sword at her hips was something from her family. The weight of the blade felt familiar as if it had been a part of her for as long as she could remember, even if the details remained elusive.

  As Celestia sang, the air around her shimmered, and a faint glow began to emanate from the sword's hilt. The crowd watched in rapt silence, their earlier awe and fear replaced by a sense of wonder at the unfolding events.

  “NO!” Ryker’s voice broke, panic creeping in as he stumbled back, eyes widening as he watched Celestia channelling the summoning spell. He knew what she was doing. The one thing he was tasked to prevent. Her family sword clenched tightly in her hand, shone with a brilliant light as she raised it high, and with one swift motion, she drove the sword into the ground.

  The earth shuddered beneath them, and a brilliant light erupted from a summoning circle that flared to life. The crowd drew back, shielding their eyes as the light expanded, reaching the very edges of the Safe Zone. Caleb could only watch in stunned awe as the light grew brighter, filling the space with a pulsing, ancient power.

  The ground shook beneath their feet as the air seemed to ignite, humming with an energy that Caleb recognized as something far beyond mortal power. Shadows retracted as if bowing to the impending arrival, and then, in a sudden, blinding burst of light, the circle expanded, radiating outward as the light-filled every corner of the room.

  And then—silence.

  “Celestia!” Caleb called out, his voice a mixture of awe and dread. The air around them shimmered, charged with the energy of the being she’d summoned. An enormous form began to materialise from the centre of the circle, its presence darkening the lights around them as an otherworldly chill settled in.

  A majestic white wolf, ethereal as moonlight, stepped forward from the glowing sigils. His fur shimmered with an otherworldly glow, each strand alive with ancient magic, catching the ambient light like starlight refracting off water. His eyes, a piercing violet, held the wisdom of ages, and a golden beaded necklace hung from his neck, each bead thrumming with a power beyond human comprehension.

  Caleb and Ryker stood frozen, their battle momentarily forgotten as the immense presence filled the space. Caleb’s gaze flicked to Celestia, who clung to her sword, barely able to stay upright. He felt a surge of confusion—how had she managed this?

  A deep and commanding voice resonated through everyone's minds, quieting even the most hardened warriors. “I am the King of Spirits,” he intoned, his voice like distant thunder, “and I have come to right wrongs—to bring balance back.”