Chapter 18: Pure and unadulterated happiness
The fight dragged on relentlessly. An hour passed, then two, then four, then five—until an entire day had gone by, and the two combatants showed no signs of slowing down.
The amphitheater lay in ruins. Debris rained down, walls crumbled around them, but neither man cared. They fought with a feverish intensity, their strength seemingly growing with each passing moment.
By the third day, the citizens of Trojas were on edge, their worry mounting as they wondered how much longer the battle would last—and who would emerge victorious. Most placed their bets on the King, though a few held out hope for Hael, Anthanasia among them.
As the fifth day neared, Hael felt his body beginning to protest, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. But still, he pushed forward. The urge to keep fighting kept him on his feet, and more than that, he reveled in the feeling of each blow he exchanged with Ceremus. Ceremus, too, felt the same. As the days wore on, he found himself smiling more and more, even letting out a laugh—a genuine, heartfelt sound that he hadn't made in years. He couldn't explain it, but with every strike, whether he was giving or receiving it, he felt an odd affection growing for Hael.
It wasn't until the sixth day that Ceremus finally landed the decisive blow, sending Hael crashing to the ground.
Both men were battered, their bodies bruised and bloodied, drenched in sweat and fatigue, aching from head to toe. And yet, in that moment, neither had ever felt more alive.
As Hael crashed to the ground, one thought echoed in his mind: I wish to spend the rest of my days fighting with this man.
Ceremus was the victor of their duel, and Hael the loser, but Hael didn't feel like he had truly lost. Both had gained much from this battle, and neither could help but feel a sense of regret that it had to end. Typically, when an opponent was defeated, Ceremus would have spat on the ground and looked at them with disdain, disgusted by their inability to give a worthy challenge. But not now. With Hael lying at his feet, Ceremus felt no such urge. Instead, he extended his hand to his fallen foe, offering to help him up.
Expecting rejection, Ceremus was taken aback when Hael, looking up at him, offered no hatred, no bitterness in his eyes. Instead, there was only a quiet understanding. Without hesitation, Hael accepted the gesture, gripping Ceremus's hand firmly.