As Ragnar settled into the rhythms of school life, his days became a blend of routine and anticipation. The quiet moments between lessons were often filled with tales of legendary tamers—stories of the past champions who had left indelible marks on the world of beast taming. One champion, however, seemed to be spoken of with particular reverence and awe: the 13th Champion, a title Ragnar himself had once held before his death.
Today, a group of students had gathered around Lunar. They were talking eagerly, eyes wide with excitement and curiosity as they begged her to recount the tale of her father's legendary battle against the 13th Champion. The very mention of this event struck a strange chord in Ragnar's chest—a faint tug, like a memory from a distant dream.
Lunar looked around, as if gauging the interest in her audience, and then began.
"My father, Vaalar," she began, her voice quiet yet commanding, "wasn't like the tamers you see today. He was relentless. Fierce. He didn't believe in holding back. I still remember the night he left for Hong Kong Arena—his face was set, and his mind was so focused, it was like he'd already won the battle in his head."
Ragnar felt a prickling sense of familiarity as she spoke, the feeling sharpening with each word. He had known that focus she described, had once worn it himself when preparing for the clash that would become the final fight of his previous life.
"When he stepped into the arena that night," Lunar continued, "the crowd was so loud, so alive. But my father saw only one thing: the 13th Champion standing on the other side, his eyes filled with that same intensity. They were like mirror images in some ways—both so determined, so skilled, and yet worlds apart."
As she described the stadium, Ragnar's mind began to reconstruct it with eerie clarity. He could almost feel the sharpness of the air, the hum of anticipation before the match, and the weight of the crowd's expectations pressing down on him.
"What did the 13th Champion look like?" a student asked, drawing Lunar's attention.
"He was… cold," she replied thoughtfully. "Calculated. He didn't show emotion, not even when his beast fought with all its might. It was like watching a machine—a flawless, unbreakable force. My father threw everything he had at him, but the Champion countered every move like he'd seen it all before. They were dancing in the ring, two forces clashing with such ferocity it shook the arena."
Ragnar listened, trying to keep his expression neutral. The memories were emerging from the depths of his mind now—scenes of that night, the pulse of combat, the way his beast had moved, responding to his commands with flawless synchronization. He had been that "cold" and "calculated" champion.
Lunar's gaze softened as she continued. "I was there, watching in the front row. I remember how proud I felt seeing my father give everything he had. He wanted nothing more than to win that title—not just for himself, but for our family. He would tell me stories about champions and their legendary beasts, about how his own father had dreamed of claiming the title one day. For him, it wasn't just a fight; it was a legacy."
She paused, looking into the distance as if recalling an old memory. "He trained relentlessly for that match. Sometimes he wouldn't sleep or eat for days, just pushing himself beyond his limits. I remember watching him spar with his beast, watching them fight as one. He taught me to believe in strength, to believe that if you wanted something enough, you had to be willing to bleed for it."
Ragnar felt a pang of regret and understanding. He had been driven by that same ruthless ambition, perhaps even more so. Becoming the 13th Champion had meant sacrificing everything. But, as he knew too well, that victory had come at a cost.
Another student leaned in, captivated. "But the 13th Champion won, didn't he? What happened after?"
Lunar hesitated, her tone shifting to one of sorrow. "Yes. The Champion defeated my father. But then… something strange happened. Shortly after his victory, he vanished without a trace. No one knew why, or what became of him. Some say he went into hiding; others say he was betrayed. There are legends about it—about the 'Angel of Valhalla,' a mysterious figure connected to both the 13th and the 12th Champions."
At this, Ragnar's heart skipped a beat. He'd heard whispers of the Angel of Valhalla in his past life, a mythical guardian figure who supposedly guided champions to their fate. His own father, Gabriel—the 12th Champion—had disappeared mysteriously after his final match. Ragnar had never understood what had driven his father away, or if the Angel of Valhalla was somehow involved in both their disappearances. But now, sitting here listening to Lunar, pieces of his past seemed to click together in ways he hadn't anticipated.
As Lunar's story wound down, Ragnar felt an unsettling mix of emotions—pride, sorrow, anger, and something deeper, almost like destiny's pull. This was the life he'd lived, the path he'd carved with his own hands, and yet he was now here as a stranger, listening to tales of his own exploits from another's lips.
The conversation continued around him, students speculating about what might have become of the 13th Champion. Ragnar kept his thoughts hidden, but Lunar caught his eye, a glimmer of curiosity in her gaze.
"Ragnar," she asked, her voice dropping to a murmur. "You always seem to understand things differently. Don't you ever wonder about the legends?"
He hesitated, feeling the weight of his memories pressing against him. "I think," he replied slowly, "that every champion has a price to pay. The stronger you become, the more you're forced to sacrifice. Power can be a curse as much as a gift."
Lunar looked at him thoughtfully, sensing something in his tone that went beyond ordinary curiosity. "Maybe that's true," she murmured. "But my father always believed that if you had a purpose, it was worth the cost."
He nodded, lost in thought. Purpose. It was a word he had clung to in his past life, the driving force behind his rise to Champion XIII. But now, reborn and given a second chance, he felt that purpose shift, reshaping itself into something different. Perhaps it was no longer about proving his strength to the world but about finding his place in it, understanding the depths of loyalty, friendship, and honor in ways he had never allowed himself before.
As Lunar and the other students moved on, Ragnar remained in place, reflecting on the weight of his past life and the journey still ahead. He could feel the ghost of the 13th Champion within him, urging him to rise once more, yet tempered by the lessons he had begun to learn in this new life.
Here, in this quiet school far removed from the brutality of the arena, Ragnar felt the stirrings of a new purpose—a purpose that did not center on being the strongest but on becoming someone worthy of Kiran, Lunar, and even himself.