Kalem groaned as he blinked away the haze of sleep. His body still ached, and every breath felt like he had inhaled a mouthful of gravel. Bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, shoulders, and arms, a testament to the damage he had sustained.
He barely had time to register his surroundings before he heard voices—familiar ones.
"How did you even do that?" Nara asked, her arms crossed as she leaned over his bed, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Jhaeros, sitting beside her, nodded. "The sword, the vibrations—you moved like you knew exactly where to strike. It wasn't just instinct, was it?"
Kalem exhaled, his head sinking deeper into the pillow. "Can I get a moment to wake up before getting interrogated?"
A loud voice from across the room interrupted them.
"Will you all shut up? It's a medical area, not a damn tavern."
Kalem turned his head.
Garrick.
The massive warrior was sitting upright in his own bed, his arms crossed, clearly annoyed but still looking as if he could walk out of there at any moment. His torso was heavily bandaged, but his glare was sharp as ever.
Kalem smirked. "You're here too, huh?"
Garrick scowled. "Where else would I be? You nearly cut me in half."
Kalem chuckled, but the action sent a sharp pain through his ribs. "Well, at least I only landed one."
A voice, softer yet laced with dry amusement, spoke next.
"At least you only received one."
Everyone turned.
Isolde was lying in her own bed, wrapped in so many bandages she smelled of ointment.
Her usual composed expression was still present, though the exhaustion in her eyes betrayed just how much that last attack had drained her. She had fought until the last moment, her ice magic nearly freezing the entire arena, but even that hadn't been enough.
Kalem sighed, rubbing his temple. "So, what's the verdict? Who won?"
Silence followed.
Jhaeros leaned back. "No one."
Kalem raised an eyebrow. "No one?"
Nara grinned. "It was ruled a draw. A 'double knockout' because you both collapsed at the same time."
Kalem groaned. "So, all of that, and it's a tie?"
Isolde let out a small chuckle. "At least neither of us lost."
Garrick shook his head. "That's not what the nobles are saying."
Kalem and Isolde turned to him. "What do you mean?"
Garrick sighed, adjusting his position on the bed. "The tournament might be over, but the real fight has just begun. The noble families, the guilds—everyone is arguing over what to do now. Some are calling for a rematch, others want to split the rewards, and some think this is an excuse to get both of you involved in politics."
Kalem frowned. "Of course they are."
Jhaeros nodded. "They were already watching you both closely. Now, you're the center of attention."
Kalem ran a hand through his hair. He hated this part. Fighting, training, improving—those were simple. But politics? That was a whole other battlefield.
Nara smirked. "Well, whatever happens next, one thing is for sure."
Kalem sighed. "What?"
She grinned. "You two put on a hell of a show."
Kalem chuckled despite the pain, but suddenly, realization hit.
"Wait, where is my crate and my sword?" His voice was sharp, immediate concern replacing his exhaustion.
Jhaeros waved a hand dismissively. "Relax, we grabbed it before anyone else could get their hands on it."
Kalem let out a breath of relief before quickly saying, "There's a notebook in it. Bring it here."
Jhaeros looked at him strangely but retrieved the notebook along with a pen that had been tucked inside. He handed it to Kalem, who immediately flipped it open and began scribbling furiously.
His pen moved with frantic urgency, filling pages at a breakneck pace, his brows furrowed in concentration. His fingers gripped the pen so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Jhaeros and Nara exchanged glances.
"Uh… Kalem?" Nara asked cautiously.
But Kalem didn't respond. He kept writing, muttering calculations under his breath.
Even Garrick, usually unbothered by most things, shifted uncomfortably in his bed. "What the hell is he doing?"
Just as Jhaeros was about to step in, a hand snatched the notebook from Kalem's grip.
"You need to rest."
Kalem's head snapped up to see Lyra standing beside him, holding the notebook firmly in her hands.
His eyes widened. "Give it back."
Lyra shook her head. "No, you need rest."
Kalem reached out for it, but she stepped back. "But the data—if I don't write it down, I'll—"
"No." Lyra's voice was firm. "You never stop working. This time, you're going to."
Kalem clenched his jaw. His mind was still racing, the fight replaying in his head, the adjustments he needed to make, the refinements to his weapon, the strategies he had formulated mid-battle. If he didn't write it now, he might lose key details.
"Lyra, please." His voice was quieter now, almost pleading.
She softened, but only slightly. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. You need to let your body recover."
Nara, watching the exchange, tilted her head. "How do you even know about his work routine?"
Garrick, still watching with narrowed eyes, crossed his arms. "Yeah, what exactly does Kalem do that's so bad?"
Jhaeros sighed. "You have no idea."
Nara and Garrick exchanged glances before Jhaeros continued.
"Lyra's known Kalem the longest. Before Nara and I joined the group, she was already dealing with him."**
Lyra scoffed. "Dealing with him is an understatement."
She turned back to Kalem. "You wake up before dawn, spend hours crafting, testing, and refining weapons, then train until you collapse, only to go back to crafting again. You skip meals, barely sleep, and when you're not fighting, you're designing ways to fight better."
Garrick visibly tensed. "Wait… he does that every day?"
Jhaeros nodded. "Every. Single. Day."
Garrick let out a low whistle. "Damn. And here I thought I trained hard."
Kalem grumbled, shifting in bed. "It's not that bad."
Lyra shot him a sharp look. "Yes, it is. And now, for once, you're actually going to take a break."
Kalem exhaled heavily, looking at his empty hands before finally leaning back. "Fine. Just… don't lose that notebook."
Lyra smiled, holding it up. "I'll keep it safe. But you're not getting it back until you've properly recovered."
Kalem sighed in defeat. Maybe, just this once, he could afford to rest.