Chapter 12: The Trial Never Ends
With his only goal being the tournament, Daylan began properly investigating it. He listened to how the previous tournaments proceeded, how they were won, and who won. He read books on how they started the tournament and why it was started. He also did a background check on the winners.
Through his research, Daylan discovered that the tournament had begun centuries ago. It was originally held between adventurers, guards, and chivalries, where they showcased their skills to strengthen the faith the citizens had in them—to prove how powerful those protecting them truly were.
As time passed, some of the citizens began expressing interest in participating, and with that, the rules evolved. The tournament shifted from a mere display of strength to a crucial scouting point for chivalries, where potential candidates were evaluated and selected.
Daylan and Astara had agreed to a final duel—one where they'd both go all out. But before that, Daylan needed a weapon. While Astara suggested visiting a blacksmith, Daylan chose to forge one himself. He wanted to test just how far Spiral Form could take him.
He read every book on forging he could get his hands on, and once he was satisfied with what he'd learned, he seized the moment and retreated to his room, where he could focus without distraction.
He began to visualize. Drawing on his knowledge from Earth, he chose the toughest metal he knew—CPM 3V. He melted it down, forged it into a dagger, and hardened it without hesitation.
Soul Spiral
The moment it was done, he collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. He had no idea whether he had succeeded. Sixteen hours slipped by, and with less than two remaining before the tournament, Daylan still lay unconscious.
Astara had grown anxious over his sudden disappearance. Unable to wait any longer, she let herself into Daylan's room. The sight of him lying motionless sent a jolt through her—she rushed to his side and shook him. Her eyes widened the moment his eyes opened.
"Hey," he rubbed his eyes.
Daylan glanced at his hand and saw the dagger—just as he had visualized it. Its hilt was slightly bent, wrapped in blue-black laced leather. In that moment, he understood—he had pushed himself to his limit.