"Apparently, King Frederick is dead," Peter huffed after he set his sword down. He thoroughly bested Avon, though only by a small margin.

"So?" Avon replied, grunting as he rose up from the ground. His hard work was not fruitless. At least, he was closer to beating his friend now .

"What do you mean, 'So?', you dumbass?" Peter remarked. "Aren't you worried that this might mean war?" He stripped his gear off and walked to a pail of water up the steps.

"I mean, isn't the Capitol far from here? How will those small riots affect us? We are in these cornfields for Elena's sake."

Peter didn't reply. He simply washed the grime off his torso with what small water he had. Avon can pack punch with his 'Fire' fist and kick techniques.

After a short while, he said, "Well, aren't you worried those bastards from Wuile would pursue the surrounding counties first?"

Avon laughed it off. "That's stupid," he said, not worrying. "What you should worry about is the fact I will beat you in the competition."

"As if you could beat those newbies. What makes you think you could reach the finals?" He retorted. After some moments, he dried himself off.

"Avon, it's your turn. You clean the place since you lost after all," Peter chuckled. He's a sadist, for all Avon knew.

Peter finally left the grove after some insults flung back and forth the two. Avon cleared his head with the cold water now dripping on his back.

He soothed his aching muscles from hitting the tree while fighting that 'Air' expert. Avon grinned as the water quickly evaporated and turned into steam. Perks of having a 'Fire' attribute, he noted happily.

He quickly cleaned up the mess they made: threw the poor branches that got broken, fixed the stone that was smashed by Avon dodging hits, and the patches of grass that git burnt when Peter flew.

After cleaning up himself and the grove, he lighted some incense on the front and thanked the guardian for allowing them to train here. Somehow, the grove fixed the major problems in the place itself, but nit the small ones.

Exiting the grove through the stone gate, Avon reentered normal society with its muddy roads, noisy stalls, and normal people.

Avon sighed. There it was again. 'Normal.' He kept thinking that he wasn't normal since there were many people unlike him. Many were not able to harness the element they had in them.

Avon snapped his hands and produced a small fire. He smiled. He was 'Fire.' Peter was 'Air.' Several others were like them with 'Water' and 'Earth.' But several others weren't. Like these sellers on the streets.

He quickly shook his head and strolled forward. Today was no different. There was no need to bother himself with such strange thoughts.

Those were boring. And he knew something else that isn't boring.

"Spicy chicken on heated rice," he chanted as he walked closer to his favorite dining place.