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.

As their hands clasped, an unexpected sensation jolted through Ceremus—an electric current shot up his spine, his heart pounding erratically. 

Hael, too, felt it. The instant their hands connected, a burning warmth spread through him—not just in the touch, but deep inside his chest. It was as though the warmth had been there all along, waiting for this moment to ignite. Then, a soft fragrance filled the air, a pleasant, almost intoxicating scent that seemed to settle around them, cloaking them both in a strange sense of calm.

The world around them seemed to quiet, and a profound peace washed over the two men. Ceremus couldn’t place the feeling, nor could he explain the warmth surging through him. He stood there, caught in the inexplicable sensation, wondering what had just happened between them. He had a sudden urge to embrace the man in front on him and Hael felt the same. 

The two men stood face to face, locked into each other’s eyes, their gazes fixed on each other. It felt as though time itself had stopped, and they could’ve stayed like that forever. But then, Anemone’s voice called out, pulling Ceremus from his trance.

“Your Majesty!” Anemone called again. “Is it safe for us to approach?”

The rumbling had finally ceased, and Anemone, who had been waiting with the royal knights, wondered if the battle had truly come to an end.

Ceremus snapped out of his daze and realized, with some surprise, that he was still holding Hael’s hand. He quickly withdrew it, clearing his throat as he addressed the white-haired man for the first time.

“You fought well,” Ceremus said.

Hael nodded respectfully. “It was an honor to fight, Your Majesty.”

Ceremus felt an odd tug in his chest. He didn’t like how formal Hael’s words sounded. Your Majesty felt so distant, so cold, and for some reason, Ceremus couldn’t quite shake the discomfort of that distance. 

“Call me Ceremus,” he said, the words slipping out before he could think them through.

Hael’s eyes widened. Even though he wasn’t originally from this world and had lived a secluded life in the forest, he knew it was considered disrespectful to address a king by his first name—especially someone like Ceremus. And yet, there was something about the king’s request that made him feel unexpectedly honored.

“Yes… Ceremus,” Hael replied, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. It was an honor fighting you.

Ceremus felt a strange warmth in his chest when he heard his name from Hael’s lips. It was unexpectedly pleasant, and it left him with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. He was about to say more when Anemone arrived, his voice cutting through the moment.

“My king! You’re alive!” Anemone exclaimed, rushing forward.

Ceremus frowned, his expression hardening again. “Of course I’m alive,” he said, though his tone softened slightly as he turned to Hael, noting his opponent’s battered state. 

Anemone hesitated, glancing from Ceremus to Hael. “So… I assume Your Majesty is the winner of this duel?” he asked cautiously.

Ceremus was quiet for a moment, clearly mulling over the question. Finally, he spoke.

“No,” he said, his voice steady. “The fight was a draw.”

Both Anemone and Hael’s eyes widened in surprise.

“No, that’s—” Hael started to object, but Ceremus raised his hand, silencing him.

“We both fought until we could fight no more,” Ceremus said, his gaze steady. “Even now, I’m beyond exhausted. It wouldn’t be fair to declare me the sole winner.”

Hael felt a wave of respect for Ceremus as he heard those words. It was rare for a king, especially one as powerful as Ceremus, to acknowledge his opponent in such a way. Hael’s heart swelled with newfound admiration.

“Announce that the fight was a draw,” Ceremus instructed, his voice firm. “And have someone clean up this mess.” He turned back to Hael, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he addressed the situation with his usual authority.

“Since this fight was a success, I will host a celebratory dinner for the both of us. Make sure to get some rest until then” He said before leaving.