Renn could feel it.
This man meant what he said.
His heart pounded like a drum against his chest.
He had always told himself the title was what mattered. Not the process. Not the fight. Just the result. If it raised his family, if it gave them land, a future, if it gave them wealth and respect—then it was worth everything.
But now, when that goal stood within reach, offered by the hand of a Grand Knight himself…
Why was he hesitating?
Because he wanted to win it with his own hands?
No. He clenched his jaw. That wasn't it.
Renn had pride, yes—but he wasn't blinded by it. He knew what he was capable of.
And more importantly… he knew what he wasn't.
Even setting Michael aside, he couldn't beat Uga.
The boy had fought with nothing but his fists—and yet those fists could crush boulders. Renn had tricks, skill… but against overwhelming strength, tricks only lasted so long.
