The tournament continued, with several battles showcasing the strength and skill of the Jetta-U clan’s warriors. The arena was alive with energy, the echoes of clashing weapons and cheering voices filling the air.


    One fight after another, warriors tested their limits, pushing their bodies to the brink for a chance to earn the recognition of their elders.


    But then—


    The crowd suddenly erupted with excitement.


    It was time for Riven’s match.


    <h4>The Silent Storm Enters the Arena</h4>


    Riven stepped onto the stone stage, his every movement exuding confidence. His black-and-gold combat attire contrasted against his sharp silver sword, reflecting the glint of the setting sun. His presence alone commanded attention, and as he ran a hand through his dark hair, the crowd’s cheers grew even louder.


    "Riven! Riven! Riven!"


    Lee, seated at the participants'' podium, shook his head. "They’re acting like he’s already won."


    Prathisya smirked. "Can you blame them? He is the strongest among us."


    Across from Riven stood his opponent—Galen, a fierce warrior with a broad frame and a sharp blade gripped tightly in his hands. He wasn’t intimidated by the cheers or Riven’s reputation.


    The announcer raised his hand.


    "Begin!"


    Galen wasted no time, lunging forward with blistering speed, his sword slashing down with immense force.


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    Clang!


    Riven blocked it effortlessly, his stance solid as a mountain.


    Galen gritted his teeth and pressed forward, striking again. Left. Right. Diagonal. Downward.


    Five, six strikes—each one carrying power, each one fast.


    But Riven never moved from his spot.


    He didn’t even counter.


    He just… blocked.


    With a single hand gripping his sword, he read every attack like an open book, shifting his blade slightly to parry each blow.


    The crowd murmured, watching in awe.


    "Why isn’t he attacking?" someone whispered.


    Prathisya leaned forward, a knowing smile on her lips. "He’s analyzing."


    Lee watched carefully, understanding now. Riven wasn’t just strong—he was precise. He was letting Galen reveal everything—his speed, his habits, his weaknesses—before he even lifted his blade to strike.


    Galen, realizing his attacks weren’t working, grunted in frustration and swung with full power.


    That was the mistake Riven was waiting for.


    <h4>One Strike.</h4>


    Whoosh!


    Riven finally moved.


    With a single step to the side, he evaded Galen’s reckless swing. His sword flickered like lightning—one precise, clean arc.


    Clang—!


    The sound of steel hitting stone echoed across the arena.


    Galen’s sword was sent flying, spinning through the air before crashing outside the ring.


    A deep silence fell over the crowd.


    Galen stood frozen, his hands trembling as he looked at his now-empty grip.


    The fight was over.


    The announcer barely had time to react. "Winner—Riven!"


    The entire arena exploded in cheers.


    "Riven! Riven! Riven!"


    His name roared across the battlefield as he casually sheathed his sword, unfazed by the attention. With that same quiet confidence, he turned and walked off the stage.


    Every pair of eyes followed him as he approached his friends.


    Prathisya grinned as Riven reached them. "You were amazing!"


    Riven shrugged. "It wasn’t much."


    Lee scoffed. "You barely lifted your sword."


    Riven smirked. "That’s because I didn’t need to."


    The three of them laughed, their bond stronger than ever. But Lee knew one thing—Riven was a force to be reckoned with.


    And if he wanted to stand beside him, he had to be stronger.


    As the cheers of the crowd continued, the tournament moved forward. But deep down, Lee could feel it—his turn was coming.


    And when it did… he would show them all what he was truly capable of.