The hero they threw away.

Back in the floating city of Arvandor, where marble halls shimmered with divine magic and the chosen heroes trained in luxury, the atmosphere was different.

Harry stood alone on the sunlit training field, sweat dampening his collar, fingers trembling slightly as he clutched the practice sword. Around him, students murmured—some curious, others simply entertained. Above them, seated on raised ivory thrones, the priestess and several instructors looked on. Among them, Leah sat with folded arms, gaze focused on the combat field.

The priestess raised her voice.

"Next duel. Harry versus Mario."

Gasps and chuckles rippled through the crowd. A mismatch, everyone knew it.

Harry took a slow breath. *I can't lose like a coward. Even if… even if it's him.*

Mario stepped forward, confident, polished armor gleaming, a smug grin playing across his face. "Didn't expect to fight you this early, little benchmate. Still clinging to Andrew's shadow?"

Harry flinched slightly but raised his blade.

Mario laughed. "This won't take long."

The bell chimed.

Harry rushed in first—desperation in every step. He swung his blade toward Mario's side, only for it to be deflected with ease. A second blow, then a third—both batted aside like child's play.

"Too slow," Mario said, and then struck.

Harry barely blocked the first hit. The force sent him staggering back. The next blow shattered his guard, and the third sent him sprawling to the ground, his weapon flying from his hands.

The crowd roared.

Harry lay there, gasping, as Mario walked over and planted his boot on his chest.

"Know your place," Mario said, loud enough for all to hear. "You're not a hero. You're a spectator. The priestess should have thrown you to the wolves—like she did your precious Andrew."

A silence followed.

Up in the viewing stand, Leah's expression didn't change. But her fingers curled tightly against her robes.

Mario turned and caught her eye. "Leah, sweetheart, did you see that? Your man's still got it."

Leah didn't respond.

Instead, her mind drifted—just for a second—to that summoning day. The moment Andrew had been cast away, that flicker of confusion in his eyes. The way Harry had shouted, and then fallen silent under the priestess' spell.

*What really happened to him?* she wondered. *And why does it still bother me?*

The priestess rose. "Enough. Mario wins. Next."

As the crowd moved on and Harry was carried off the field, his bruises aching more from the shame than the pain, Leah allowed herself a final glance toward the edge of the arena.

For just a heartbeat, she could almost hear Andrew's voice: *"Don't let them define you."*

She shook the thought away.

The games continued. But somewhere deep in her chest, a splinter had formed.

And it was beginning to grow.