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"This was our best chance," Arran said with a shrug. "Your strategy clearly wasn’t working."

"Then let’s hope yours fares better," the captain replied, his voice resigned. Though he no longer looked as horrified as before, no small amount of worry remained in his voice.

Opposite them, barely two dozen paces away, stood the young Ranger — Lady Raina’s son, as Arran now knew. The young man’s expression was tense as he stared at his opponent, and little of his previous arrogance now remained.

Yet although the prideful disdain had fled his eyes, they still held an unshakable confidence. While it was clear that he did not take the fight lightly, it was equally clear that he expected to win it.

"It looks like he’s ready," Arran said to Kaleesh. "Best you step back."

"Don’t get carried away," the captain said.

Then, he stepped back into the ring of onlookers, leaving only the two fighters behind, their figures almost seeming to glow in the bright torchlight around them.

"You’re not using that giant sword of yours?" the Ranger asked as he gave Arran an appraising look. "Shame. I’d have liked to see how one would use such a weapon."

"To defeat you, I don’t need it," Arran replied calmly.

Of course, the truth was that his Living Shadow weapon easily outmatched the giant sword. The bond he shared with it gave him a level of control that was impossible to achieve with any other weapon.

He didn’t think he needed it to defeat the young Ranger, but then, there was no reason to forego the advantage. Not when he needed to demonstrate his strength.

A hint of anger flashed across the Ranger’s face, yet he did not reply. Instead, he cautiously began to move toward his opponent, sword ready to strike.

Arran, for his part, merely readied his sword, then waited for the young Ranger to make the first move.

The wait was a short one. Seeing Arran’s inaction, the Ranger mistook it for indecision, and at once he moved to take advantage of this perceived weakness.

He dashed forward in a sudden movement, striking a swift series of skillful blows at Arran’s body in a masterful display of swordsmanship.

Gasps of surprise and delight sounded from the crowd, and one voice called out, "Get him, Kalin!"

Yet skilled though the Ranger might be, Arran parried the attacks with ease. The young man was probably the most powerful Ranger he’d faced so far, but Rangers had been no match for him even six months earlier.

And since then, Arran’s own skill had advanced no small amount.

When the young Ranger realized his offensive had failed, he broke off the exchange and retreated several steps. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, then said, "Strong defense."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he attacked again, even more furiously than before. But while his strikes were as skillful as they were powerful, they proved completely useless against Arran’s defense.

Even in the first few seconds, Arran knew that the Ranger posed no threat to him. The gap in skill between them was simply too great, like that between a master swordsman and a boy wielding a sword for the very first time.

Still, Arran did not hurry to finish the fight. Although he could have defeated his opponent a dozen times already, he allowed the young man to continue his ill-fated assault.

This wasn’t out of mercy or mockery. Rather, he recognized the foundation Muna had taught him in the young man’s swordplay, and he gladly seized the opportunity to see if there was anything he could learn.

Yet after half a dozen exchanges, he realized there was nothing to be learned from the young man.

Arran’s own foundation was far stronger than his opponent’s, and while the Ranger showed signs of other training, they were barely more than traces — far too small to be useful to Arran.

And so, as Raina’s son readied yet another attack, Arran struck.

It was a single blow, but so quick and forceful that the Ranger had no chance to react. Mid-attack, his sword was struck by Arran’s and ripped from his grasp, sent flying as the young man’s eyes widened in shock.

"You’ve lost," Arran said.

The young man’s shocked expression lasted only a moment before turning to frustration. "That was just luck!" he said, hurriedly moving to pick up his weapon from the ground.

Arran did not stop him. If he wanted to demonstrate his strength to the Darians, it would take more than a single strike — even if it was one that would have defeated his opponent.

He waited until the Ranger had retrieved his weapon and recovered from the shock. Then, he moved forward.

The young man took a defensive stance as Arran neared, a wary look on his face as he braced for the attack he knew was coming.

Yet when Arran attacked, he used neither his speed nor his strength. Instead, he moved slowly, barely putting power into his strikes as he confronted his opponent.

Instead, he relied purely on Muna’s foundation, drawing upon the insights he’d gained to guide his sword.

At first, the young Ranger seemed relieved. He’d expected a furious assault, but instead Arran moved almost like a commoner.

Yet his relief was short-lived, and astonishment soon took its place.

Because as the Ranger soon found, Arran’s casual blows somehow still defeated his defenses, forcing him to retreat with each attack.

It was a blatant display of the difference in their insights, a statement clearer than any words could be.

There wasn’t a single person among the onlookers who wouldn’t immediately recognize what he was demonstrating — mastery of the Darians’ own foundation, and to a level far beyond that of a mere Ranger.

The slow exchange had lasted barely a minute when Arran’s blade came to a stop against the Ranger’s throat.

"You’ve lost," Arran said. "Again."

Without saying any further words, he turned around and began to walk away. Yet he’d barely reached the center of the circle when the young man’s voice sounded.

"No! I will not be defeated like this!"

Arran turned to face the Ranger, and saw that the man’s face was twisted with frustration, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

"You’ve received two free lessons," Arran said. "If you insist on a third, there will be a price."

"Kalin..." Lady Raina’s voice sounded, thick with warning.

Yet before she could say anything else, her son rushed forward, eyes wide with fury as he attacked Arran.

The clash lasted only an instant.

As the young Ranger struck, so did Arran, his sword easily slapping his opponent’s weapon aside. And then, his left fist smashed into the face of Lady Raina’s son with an audible crunch, such force behind the blow that it sent the young man flying a dozen paces.

For a moment, there was only silence, the Lady’s guests barely even daring to breathe as they looked at the motionless Ranger.

But naturally, Arran hadn’t used his full strength — killing Lady Raina’s son would obviously not end well for him. And so, after some seconds, the young man groaned in pain as he sat up, a small stream of blood trickling from his shattered nose.

At this, a collective sigh of relief went through the crowd. While Lady Raina and her husband would have known it wasn’t a killing blow, the others lacked their insight, and many of them had clearly feared the worst.

Arran gave his defeated opponent a brief glance, then turned to face Lady Raina.

"Are your doubts sufficiently eased?" he asked flatly.

Yet instead of the Lady, it was her husband who answered.

"An impressive display," the gray-haired Knight said. "But then, our son is merely a Ranger, and there is still much he has to learn."

"Then I hope I’ve contributed to his education," Arran replied.

The Knight gave a small laugh. "I have no doubt he has learned much from this encounter," he said. "Yet with him as your opponent, I suspect there is still much of your skill that remains hidden from us."

He paused for a moment, giving Arran an appraising glance. "But perhaps I would be a more suitable opponent for you — if you agree to face me, of course."

Arran hesitated only a second. Then, he nodded in agreement.

"If you wish, I will face you as well."