Chapter 160: Rain
Rose sat just outside the castle’s sparring field, watching as Zethan and his cousin, Zack, now dressed in their sparring gear, held their swords at the ready. Zethan’s gaze shifted to Rose, his eyes fixed on her where she sat quietly, before returning to Lucas, whose smirk revealed he’d noticed it too. Then Lucas raised his arm and brought it down—a signal that the sparring had begun.
Zack moved swiftly, flinging his sword forward with practiced ease, already anticipating Zethan’s next move. But Zethan dodged effortlessly. Zack’s eyes widened slightly—what had just happened had been Zethan’s move. It seemed today he was doing things differently. A cold smile curled on Zack’s lips as he met Zethan’s indifferent gaze.
Zethan shifted again—this time swiftly—while Zack launched a flurry of strikes. Zack swung his sword in a wide arc, but Zethan slipped aside. Clang! Their blades met with ringing steel.
Zethan pressed forward, and Zack skidded back, struggling to maintain his footing. Undeterred, Zack lunged once more, aiming for Zethan’s side, but Zethan anticipated it, twisted his blade out of the way, then countered with a sharp strike of his own. Blades danced again. The wind blew harshly, and the sun dimmed slightly, as if reacting to the match itself.
Rose watched, nearly breathless, unable to believe how inhumanly fast they moved. It was as if each combatant possessed a sixth sense, predicting every feint and thrust. She held her breath for an unknown reason.
Zack moved, shifting his legs swiftly to distract Zethan, but Zethan was fast enough to step back, sending Zack’s legs flailing awkwardly forward.
Rose could see why he was the best. If you asked her, Zethan was better—his skills were unmatched. It seemed he was perfect at everything.
At last another—clang!—Zethan disarmed Zack, sending his sword tumbling across the field. Zack spun to break his momentum and came to a halt, swordless, just before Rose’s bench. Her eyes fixed on the heavy-looking sword. She swallowed—no wonder she’d been holding her breath; the sound of it alone was terrifying.
Zethan’s blade hovered at Zack’s throat. With a swift motion, he hooked Zack’s chin, tilting his head upward. A slow grin curved Zethan’s lips—one that said far more than words ever could.
"Nice one, cousin," he said curtly, as if he’d expected something better and longer. He stepped back and handed the blade to Lucas.
Then Zethan turned and approached Rose.