I woke up. My heart was pounding. Out of habit, the first thing I did was look in the mirror. One eye: a black abyss. The second eye... hmm. Interesting color. Gray, almost white, with a faint bluish tint, like the plumage of a Siberian crane. Cold, inconspicuous, but piercing.

  Alright, I thought. Today I'm a bird. Icy and indifferent.

  I stepped out of my room. The princesses were already standing there, ready to go. They both looked exhausted, with dark circles under their eyes. But not from training—from yesterday's festivities. I stared at Alexia, waiting. Waiting for her to at least act a little embarrassed. To remember the hug, the whisper, the scent. To apologize.

  She just looked back at me with an expression that said: Can I help you? Is there something in your hair? I understood. She didn't remember. A drunken impulse that, to her, was just a fun little blur; to me, it had been an attempt to build a bridge toward "unconditional kindness." The "Mutual Benefit" theory had won again.

  "It's nothing," I said coldly, pulling up my hood. "You just have a loose button on your coat."

  We made it to the palace. The Arena was packed. The three remaining teams were led out to the center:

  The Elf: Calm, focused. Pure determination in her eyes.

  Prince Karim: Dressed in gold, but sporting a nervous tic. He looked at me with shock, as if he were seeing the impossible.

  Us (The North): Me, Alexia, Lianel. I was calm; the sisters were tense.

  The Sultan stepped out, shining in all his majesty.

  

  "The Finals! Today, just like the first day, only one team will remain! An elimination battle! Begin!"

  I looked at the elf. She was calm. I looked at Karim. He wasn't just glaring at me with hatred, but with absolute bewilderment.

  "What?" I asked. "Is there something on your face?"

  Karim didn't answer. He had clearly noticed my eyes. Today, they weren't a vibrant purple, but icy gray. Karim had likely come to the arena prepared for one version of Greg, only to be confronted by another.

  "FIGHT!"

  Karim didn't waste a second; he struck first. This time, he didn't aim for the princesses. He aimed straight for me.

  "WRATH OF THE DESERT!" he roared.

  A vortex of scorching, razor-sharp sand, amplified by magic, crashed down on me. It was a massive, dense strike.

  SCENE: Sacrifice, Revenge, and the Price of "Friendship"

  I stood my ground against Karim's Desert Wrath. The sand shredded the air, but it couldn't pierce my aura. I parried his attacks, genuinely surprised.

  "Why are you so mad at me? I didn't even break your stick today."

  I could feel the fight dragging on. Not because of his sheer power, but because of a strange lethargy seeping into my body.

  Hmm, I thought. Special perfume? I caught a faint, sickly-sweet scent wafting from Karim. Something that was slowly pressing down on my mana. A poison meant to dull reactions?

  "I'm bored."

  I released a compressed wave of Darkness. One sharp, concussive blast. Karim flew back like a popped cork and slammed into the sand, unconscious. The crowd gasped.

  "Victory," I stated, though the exhaustion was very real.

  I turned to help the princesses. But they were already caught in a furious melee. The elf had attacked Lianel and Alexia. It was a betrayal, but a logical one: the elf was fighting for herself and owed us nothing. The battle was fierce. Both Lianel and Alexia fought with their swords. They were holding their own.

  I sat down and watched. Should I help them? They could handle it. I was tired. I had made my move.

  Suddenly, while Lianel was deflecting a magical strike, the elf vanished. It wasn't a teleport. She just moved so fast that mana couldn't even react. She materialized right behind my back. A cold blade pressed against my throat.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear.

  Lianel and Alexia froze. Panic and utter confusion flashed in their eyes.

  "Surrender," the elf shouted. "Or I will kill him."

  I kept my voice low so no one else could hear. "Elf, I need to win this. You know that. I need answers."

  "I won't let you win," her voice trembled. She leaned in closer, speaking quickly, erratically, her voice dripping with grief: "My village... is dying. A Sand Demon. This cup, this prize money—it's a massive breakthrough. It will save them! My goal is more important, Halibut!"

  She pressed the blade slightly harder.

  I froze. The three definitions of friendship raced through my head.

  Mutual benefit? No. I lose everything. Shared thoughts? No, she's betraying me. Unconditional Kindness?

  Her goal was about saving many. My goal was about saving myself (my memory).

  Yeah, I thought. My goal, unlike hers, is more important to me. But her goal is more important to the world. I knew what I had to do. It was stupidity. Cynical stupidity.

  "Alright," I whispered.

  I relaxed every muscle in my body and faked a sudden, total depletion of mana. I let the suppressed dregs of my exhaustion wash over me.

  "I... I surrender," I wheezed, rolling my eyes back.

  I dropped unconscious like a sack of sand right at her feet. The blade clattered onto the arena floor.

  "GREG!" the princesses screamed.

  The elf looked at my "lifeless" body, then back at the princesses. "Surrender," she shouted again. "Or you'll lose on your own."

  With heavy hearts, seeing their "weapon" defeated, they yielded. The elf quickly and quietly knocked Alexia out of the fight, and then Lianel.

  GONG! > "THE WINNER IS—THE TEAM OF THE WEST! THE ELF!"

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The crowd roared.

  I stood up like nothing had happened, brushing the sand off my clothes. The elf looked at me with a mixture of profound gratitude and absolute shock.

  "Did you... did you do that on purpose?" she whispered.

  I walked right past her without making eye contact. A terrible, hollow sadness chewed at my heart. Why did I do that? I had sacrificed my ultimate goal for a village I didn't even know. I got no answers. I lost my usefulness. I realized then that I couldn't be a true cynic. My very nature simply wouldn't let me calmly march toward my own objective while true, massive grief stood right beside me.

  SCENE: A Bitter Second Place, Tears, and the Truth Revealed

  I walked in silence while the princesses drilled holes into my back with furious glares.

  "You!" Alexia started. "You fell on purpose?" "You let her get close to you deliberately!" Lianel continued.

  I nodded. I knew their reputation was in ruins, and it was my fault. I started to tell them what the elf had whispered to me.

  "I... I surrendered because she said the prize money from the cup would save her dying village from a Sand Demon. Her goal... is more important than mine."

  They froze. The anger in their eyes was instantly replaced by utter bewilderment. They hadn't expected the "savage" to have a conscience.

  "Well," Alexia lowered her gaze, her anger melting into exhaustion. "Well, at least we got second place."

  "Yeah, it's sad," I said, and it was the most honest thing I had uttered during the entire tournament. I had spent so much time, so much effort, so many emotions—all just to return empty-handed. Second place meant absolutely nothing. I would fly back, and the Old Elf would say: "Sorry, Greg. You didn't win."

  I kept thinking I had made a mistake. I should have done things differently. I should have snapped her neck, taken my answers, and moved on.

  The memories of her affection flared up in my mind like venomous thorns.

  Was it a long con? I whispered to myself. A tactic? I remembered how she had stroked my hair, how she had pleaded. Her emotions had seemed real. But what if she was just a phenomenal actress? What if she used the very thing I was searching for—that unconditional kindness—against me?

  I felt incredibly sad. I didn't know what was worse: being a cynic who uses everyone, or being an idiot who gets used.

  I turned and trudged away toward our mini-palace. The princesses remained standing there, devastated.

  I reached my room, collapsed onto the couch, then sat up, buried my face in my hands, and rested my forehead on the table.

  And I cried. Like a child.

  So much effort, so much hope—and for what? For what? Everything inside me ached from the injustice, the sheer stupidity, the loss of my purpose.

  "I really should have broken her neck," I whispered, but the tears kept falling. I didn't even know why I was crying. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't stop.

  Barely twenty minutes later, Alexia and Lianel walked into the room. They probably expected to find me furious, asleep, or smashing the furniture. But they were met with a very different scene.

  I was sitting hunched over on the couch. My hood was thrown back. My shoulders were shaking. And beneath my mismatched eyes—one black, one gray—large, hot tears were streaming down my face.

  Lianel, who was always so cold and strict, froze in her tracks. Alexia quietly dropped her bag.

  They weren't looking at a monster, a tool, or a savage. They were looking at a human being who was crying.

  SCENE: Tears, Comfort, and the Crumbling Wall

  I sat hunched on the couch, my forehead resting on the table. Tears streamed down, burning my face. They carried with them all the fear, all the exhaustion, and all the frustration of my cyclical life—a life I couldn't even remember.

  My eyes were bloodshot from the strain and the crying.

  I heard them approach. They didn't scold me. They didn't ask why I was crying. They simply sat down beside me, one on each side.

  Lianel (pragmatic and stern) was the first to place a hand on my back, slowly rubbing it. Alexia (sensitive and emotional) reached out and began to stroke my disheveled hair. I didn't resist. I went limp.

  "Greg, don't worry," Alexia said softly. "Everything is going to be okay. You did a good thing." "She's right," Lianel added. "It doesn't matter that we lost."

  I started talking through my tears, and what spilled out wasn't anger, but pure pain.

  "I... I sacrificed... everything." I struggled to find the words. "My hope... my hard work... the answers I could have had... for... what?" I lifted my head, looking at them, though my vision was entirely blurred. "I could have found out who I am! I could have... saved myself. And now... I'm going back with empty hands. It was all for nothing! I should have just..."

  "Shh, Greg," Alexia wrapped her arms around my head and pulled me close, resting my face against her shoulder. "Don't say that."

  Lianel kept rubbing my back, and her normally steel-hard voice carried a genuine softness. "Listen to me. What you did was a human act. A real one."

  "You weren't thinking about personal gain," Alexia continued, her voice incredibly soothing. "You were thinking about the people who would die if they didn't get help. In a world where everyone chases only power, authority, and gold, you voluntarily gave up your victory."

  "Your answers," Lianel said, squeezing my hand. "They aren't going anywhere. They are waiting for you. But today, you proved that you aren't just... a monster. You proved that you have a heart. And that is more important than any cup."

  "And even more important than any knowledge," Alexia whispered. "Because knowledge can make you strong, but it can't make you good."

  I buried my face in her shoulder, and my tears slowly began to subside.

  "We aren't mad, Greg," Alexia said. "We're proud of you."

  Lianel leaned in. "You helped her. Now she will help her village. That is the best thing you could have done. And it doesn't matter what you call it: friendship, stupidity, or kindness. It was an action that mattered."

  I sat between them, encircled by their warmth and support. My cynical theories about "mutual benefit" were burning to ash in the fire of their care. They didn't need my strength right now. I was weak, useless, crying like a baby. But they stayed by my side.

  SCENE: Fury, the Sultan's Prayer, and an Awakening

  The princesses eventually got up and left. Their hour of unconditional support had passed. I lay on the couch like an emptied vessel, just staring at the ceiling. The skin around my eyes was red and inflamed. I felt completely hollow.

  SILENCE.

  Suddenly, the door burst open without a knock, without a warning. Karim stood on the threshold. His face was twisted with absolute hatred.

  "I found you!" he hissed. "You cheated! You placed a mental hex on me!"

  I didn't even move. I had no strength left. "I'm not in the mood," I rasped. "Leave. You really need to leave."

  He didn't listen. He started screaming. "I'm going to kill you! Right here, right in your own lair, you savage!"

  The rage I had been suppressing ever since my disqualification ignited like a forest fire. I didn't want to kill. But I desperately wanted silence.

  Instantly, my eyes flooded with a thick, inky darkness. Both eyes.

  The walls began to vibrate. A dark, tangible aura began to bleed into the room. The air pressure plummeted, and the light visibly bent, swallowed by the sheer density of my mana. The room resonated with a low, bone-rattling hum. Karim, witnessing this monstrous transformation, choked on his words.

  His personal guard stood around him. The moment they felt the crushing weight of my aura, they stepped back. But Karim remained. He finally looked into my eyes—into that absolute, void-like blackness.

  And that was the end of him.

  He dropped to his knees. At first, he just froze, and then he began to weep. Silently, just like Marla back in the arena.

  I stood up. The anger wasn't fading. I wanted to destroy something. I didn't know why, I just needed to tear this suffocating tension apart. Trembling, the guards hurled their spears at me. The spears didn't even reach me; they shattered into splinters mid-air. A shockwave of my mana blasted everyone backward like autumn leaves caught in a hurricane.

  I slowly advanced toward Karim. His weeping was turning into pure hysterics. I raised my hand, ready to end this absurdity.

  Suddenly, the Sultan appeared in the doorway on horseback (even indoors, the man stayed on his horse). He leapt off and sprinted toward me, screaming.

  "STOP! PLEASE! I BEG YOU!"

  Sultan Azur, the Lord of the Desert, threw himself to his knees, clawing at my legs. "Oh, please! Do not kill my son! I beg of you!"

  I looked down into his eyes. He didn't even dare lift his gaze to meet my wrath. I raised my hand, preparing to throw him off me. The anger still wasn't fading.

  And then, stepping in front of Karim to shield him, the Elf appeared. She positioned herself right between me and the Prince.

  The fury inside me snagged. I couldn't strike her. My mana physically refused to attack the person for whom I had just sacrificed everything.

  "GREG, STOP!" she screamed, refusing to look away. "GREG, STOP!"

  I froze instantly. It was like waking up from a nightmare. The rage splashed out of me like water from a kicked bucket and vanished.

  I blinked. My eyes returned to normal: one brown, one black.

  The Sultan immediately started screaming, barking orders: "GET OUT! EVERYONE! NOW!"

  The guards grabbed the weeping Karim and dragged him away. The Sultan staggered out of the room without another word.

  Exhausted and entirely drained, I collapsed onto the floor. Emotional overload.

  The elf walked over to me. She scooped me up into her arms (she was surprisingly strong) and carried me to the couch.

  "I'm sorry, Greg," she whispered, draping a blanket over me. "I had no other choice. Forgive me."

  She began to run her fingers through my hair again, trying to soothe away the remnants of the darkness. "Please forgive me. What you did was noble. You probably won't understand it right now... but in the future, I hope..."

  She stroked my head one last time and left, leaving me to lie there in the silence.