A Worthy Opponent Novelas e Histórias

It seemed that this world was far from ordinary, and understanding it was going to be a difficult task. “However, it is unfortunate that your opponent is Mane. He who has walked countless battlefields and left many orphaned, widowed, and childless. You face one who is regarded as a Death God by many. And even if he’s controlling himself, he still is a dangerous weapon. For even a dull blade can cut if used with enough force.” *Bang*

“Since they've defined my strength at that level, I have nothing to say. They’ll just match me with some weak guys.” Philip shook his head helplessly, unfazed. He quickly found his opponent, who appeared in front of him. Many people began to look forward to Philip's battle. “Wow, it’s another fresh new face. He’s so bold.” “Maybe he’s the legendary dark horse. He wouldn’t dare to be so arrogant otherwise.” “One dark horse is good enough. How many more do you want? He’s just a little stronger, nothing much to shout about.”

My breathing has long steadied, but the adrenaline still lingers under my skin. “This is my observation,” the instructor says. “You all fight as you live.” Her gaze moves deliberately. “Ashbourne dominates to measure resistance.” “Vale waits for vulnerability.” “Han seeks efficiency.” “Whitford seeks disruption.” “Hartley enforces structure.” “Marlowe just performs.” “Briar adapts when cornered.” Then silence. “You will unlearn parts of this.” A pause. “Because your enemy will not fight predictably.” Enemy. The word lands heavier than expected.

They must prove that they are worthy of the power they seek, that they will use it not for personal gain, but for the greater good. I looked at Saea, my eyes a dark, turbulent sea of fear and confusion. "I don't know if I can do this," I admitted, my voice a low, rough whisper that was laced with a vulnerability that was both terrifying and profoundly, unshakably true. "I don't know if I'm worthy." She reached out, her hand a warm, comforting presence on my arm. "You are," she said, her voice a low, firm statement, a final, unbreakable decision. "You are worthy, Hypatos. You have always been worthy."

“A lost heir who returned and claimed her place through strength, is that correct?” I met his gaze. “I claimed what was rightfully mine,” I replied calmly. “The rest was necessary to prove I deserved it.” He hummed slightly. “And what do you believe makes a worthy heir?” he asked. I did not hesitate. “Strength, knowledge, and the ability to make decisions that benefit not just oneself, but the people,” I answered. He nodded slowly. “Fair,” he said. Another Alpha stepped forward, his expression thoughtful. “If two of your allies were to come into conflict, how would you handle it?” he asked.

Its balance was perfect, its grip familiar, a solid, unyielding reality in a world that had become a nightmare of whispers and silence. He found a secluded corner of the training yard, a space framed by cold stone walls and overlooked by no windows. He did not want an audience. He did not want a partner. He wanted an opponent who would not hold back, who would not be intimidated by his crown, who would meet his fury with an equal and opposite force. He found one in Valen.

“Uncle? Is something wrong?” “Valery…” Valery frowned. “Yes?” The King became uncharacteristically hesitant again. “You are one of the nominees.”

She needed to know what was happening. She was in awe watching the unknown man in front of her fight her captors. He was fighting them both at once, obviously skilled as he dodged and threw punches at Patrick and Anthony. She watched him duck and toss a punch at Patrick, who blocked it and returned it with one of his own. Anthony approached from behind, lifting his foot and looking to land a good kick when the stranger stepped back and grabbed his foot in his hand. He twisted Anthony's ankle at the same time he threw another punch at Patrick.

*VALENS* I’d never met an opponent I could not take down. Some of them took more time than others but what mattered was that ultimately, I always won. There was a reason I was called a conqueror. Yet, for the first time, I met a man who was always one step ahead of me. It made me want to hit something, snap a neck. It was like an annoyingly incessant itch, no matter how much I itched, it never went away. I never thought that opponent would be someone as spineless as Jackson.