With his only goal being the tournament, Daylan began properly investigating it. He listened to how the previous tournaments proceeded, how they were won, and who won. He read books on how they started the tournament and why it was started. He also did a background check on the winners.
Through his research, Daylan discovered that the tournament had begun centuries ago. It was originally held between adventurers, guards, and Chivalries, where they showcased their skills to strengthen the faith the citizens had in them—to prove how powerful those protecting them truly were.
As time passed, some of the citizens began expressing interest in participating, and with that, the rules evolved. The tournament shifted from a mere display of strength to a crucial scouting point for Chivalries, where potential candidates were evaluated and selected.
Daylan and Astara had agreed to a final duel—one where they'd both go all out. But before that, Daylan needed a weapon. While Astara suggested visiting a blacksmith, Daylan chose to forge one himself. He wanted to test just how far Spiral Form could take him.
He read every book on forging he could get his hands on, and once he was satisfied with what he'd learned, he seized the moment and retreated to his room, where he could focus without distraction.
He began to visualize. Drawing on his knowledge from Earth, he chose the toughest metal he knew—CPM 3V. He melted it down, forged it into a dagger, and hardened it without hesitation.
Soul Spiral
The moment it was done, he collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. He had no idea whether he had succeeded. Sixteen hours slipped by, and with less than two remaining before the tournament, Daylan still lay unconscious.
Astara had grown anxious over his sudden disappearance. Unable to wait any longer, she let herself into Daylan's room. The sight of him lying motionless sent a jolt through her—she rushed to his side and shook him. Her eyes widened the moment his eyes opened.
"Hey," he rubbed his eyes.
Daylan glanced at his hand and saw the dagger—just as he had visualized it. Its hilt was slightly bent, wrapped in blue-black laced leather. In that moment, he understood—he had pushed himself to his limit.
"You've not seen you in a day. Are you okay?"
It exhausted me for that long?
Daylan gave her a faint smile. "Don't worry. I'm doing great…"
Without hesitation, Astara hauled him off the bed. ''Then it's settled. We finish this duel now."
Daylan struggled to his feet, fighting to stay upright as a sharp jolt of pain shot through his head. Astara, noticing the agony on his face, gently suggested, ''Go freshen up and grab something to eat before meeting me at the training center.''
The moment she left, Daylan rushed into a cold shower. Not wanting to waste any more time, he quickly made his way to the training center.
The moment he stepped inside, a blade of light struck at him. He barely managed to block it, the impact sending him stumbling back out of the hall. What? He thought, confusion clouding his mind.
Seizing the moment, he dashed inside, narrowly avoiding Astara's blades while scanning for any opening to strike.
"An enemy wouldn't waste until you are ready, you know? Try and keep up."
Daylan smiled. To stand a real chance against her, he needed to close the distance.
During his explanation of his ability, he discovered that Spiral Edge wasn't limited to just strikes—it extended to anything physical.
He knew that by running and blocking her attacks, he'd adapt in no time—unless she was holding back. Unwilling to let that show through defeat, he stayed sharp, every sense on edge, waiting for the perfect opening to strike.
Astara kept him constantly on edge, moving as if she could hear the echoes of his footsteps before he even took them.
Is her hearing that good?
Realizing he couldn't close in on her, Daylan changed his strategy.
Soul Spiral
He instantly hurled two knives at her, but she blocked them both with effortless precision.
She can hear that too?
Realizing he was still at a disadvantage, Daylan decided to mess with her sense of hearing. But he knew Astara's flexibility was top-tier—if he made a single wrong move, he'd be finished.
Bracing himself, he charged straight at her, deflecting and dodging her strikes by the thinnest margins. With a quick peekaboo maneuver, he landed a crushing blow to her gut—but in the blink of an eye, her sword was already at his neck, resting there with unnerving calm.
With a calm smile, she whispered. "I warned you…fight to kill, not to win."
Daylan remained still, his eyes flickering. He had executed the strike perfectly—but at the cost of his own neck. Had it been real, he'd be dead.
He let out a sigh, sat on the floor and collapsed backward. "I'm still lacking, huh? What a bummer." He smirked.
Astara's sword vanished in an instant, and she sat beside Daylan. ''You need to understand—tournament battles aren't friendly duels. If you don't fight to kill, you might win by the rules… but you'll lose something far greater.''
Hearing a royal speak that way made Daylan pause. It made him wonder what Astara had been through—but he chose not to ask.
Instead, he simply took her words to heart.
This would have been far easier if I had to narrate a story. I guess killing isn't as simple as stories made them out to be.
As the conversation continued, Daylan silently encouraged himself, reminding himself of what he was fighting for. He knew he needed to prepare mentally for what lay ahead.
Astara kept urging Daylan to fight with everything he had. They talked until exhaustion finally took over. Eventually, both of them collapsed, falling asleep right there on the floor.
The sleep they managed was brief, the sun already peeking over the horizon. Daylan snapped awake and froze, his heart racing as he found Astara sleeping soundly on his chest. His face turned crimson, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. He lay there, drenched in sweat, every second feeling like an eternity, until Astara finally stirred and awkwardly shifted off him.
"We need to leave. The tournament will start any moment from now." He said, walking out of the hall.
Daylan giggled, covering his lips. She's shy.
He stood up, quickly brushing himself off, and followed Astara's lead. A few of the Chivalries strolled out of the monastery, heading toward their carriages at the entrance. As Daylan walked, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Enyo, casually leaning against a wall with his arms folded across his chest.
Enyo's smile widened as he saw the distance between Daylan and Astara. ''Hey, rag!'' he sneered, stepping in front of Daylan. ''You really think you can win and pay off your debt? Dreams are one thing, but don't get carried away. I'm not going to make it happen, and neither is my father."
Daylan ignored him, passing by without a word.
"You will die in our hands, don't forget." He yelled, watching Daylan walk away.
Enyo's words sparked a realization in Daylan.
He recalled how he had seen Enzo signal his guards to sever a woman's head, despite her desperate pleas that she could pay him. And yet, Enzo had done it without a flicker of remorse. His mother, he now realized was facing the same fate. This was a reality he couldn't change by simply being afraid of spitting blood.
He strolled steadily, his hands resting in his pockets. While Astara stood by their carriage, awaiting his arrival.
I need to adapt. I've killed demonic monsters and a human… So why do I still hesitate? What am I afraid of? Mother believes in me. She wants me to save her. And the person who wants it the most? Zira!
He clenched his fist as it trembled.
I can't keep acting like this. Carrying out Daylan's legacy won't be easy, and I know that. I could have easily ignored it all, run off for a bit of fun, or even ended it all, hoping for another kind of transmigration. But I didn't. I chose this—chose to carry on his life as much as my own. I mustn't let my arrogance be the thing that destroys everyone.
Daylan reached the carriage. Astara climbed in and Daylan followed.
Astara took a look at Daylan and tapped him on the shoulder.
"You seemed worried… do not overthink this, just focus on what and who you are fighting for and let it drive you. You have to know that I've got your back."
Daylan smiled and gave a firm nod.
The carriage began to roll away, and Daylan couldn't help but smile. With each passing second, an inexplicable sense of joy washed over him, a feeling he couldn't quite place.
I am still living my Fate Trial. My fate isn't survival, determination or victory… It is Endurance.
The Trial never ends.