The dormitory was unusually quiet, the silence punctuated by the distant hum of the bustling city of Wenstin. The entire city was alive with anticipation for the tournament tomorrow. Even those who weren't participating felt the electric excitement of what was to come. Wenstin's streets were lined with glowing lanterns, and celebratory banners fluttered in the cool night breeze. Yet, within the dorms, most contestants had retreated to their rooms, bracing themselves for the most pivotal moment of their lives.
Ned lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his heart a storm of emotions. He had faced many challenges, but this was different. The tournament would test him in ways he wasn't sure he was prepared for. In a one-on-one fight, there would be no teammates to strategize with, no chance to rely on others. Raw power and skill would reign supreme. And Ned couldn't shake the image of Zara from his mind.
Zara's mastery over her wind talent had been mesmerizing. She manipulated the air as if it were an extension of her very being. It wasn't just about power; it was the precision, the grace, and the understanding of her element. The way she wove her talent into battle was artistry, a mastery that could only come from generations of refinement and training.
Her talent was hereditary, passed down through a long line of wind manipulators. Zara had a legacy to guide her, insights to draw from, and experience gifted by those who came before. But Ned? Spectator's Insight was an anomaly, a talent with no recorded history, no precedent, and no guiding hand. It wasn't famous. If it had been as straightforward as copying talents, surely someone in the annals of history would have wielded it to dominate the world.
But Ned had discovered its limits. After copying Usain's Talaria, he'd attempted to replicate other talents. Each time, he traced mana patterns with precision, trying to recreate what he saw. Yet the results were inconsistent. Christine's fire talent was too complex, and weaker talents didn't even trigger his Reenact. He did try to copy Moonlight Howl before ever encountering Iver. But only when his life was at risk, did he manage to mimic a talent successfully.
That realization weighed on him now. The arrogance that came with thinking he could copy any talent had been his undoing. That overconfidence had limited him, blinding him to his own weaknesses. Zara's fight had been a humbling moment, a harsh reminder that raw talent and refined skill could outmatch even the best strategy.
Despite his doubts, Ned had resolved to win tomorrow. Not just for himself, but for his family. He didn't mind being called the Banished Prince. He'd long since accepted that label. But his parents… they were haunted by the choice they'd made. Even though he tried to reassure them, he could see the regret in their eyes, the guilt they carried for the hardships he endured.
"What if I can rise above it all?" he thought. "What if I gain a position so powerful that it eclipses even the prince of Nexus? Then they won't have to suffer anymore."
He clenched his fists. Tomorrow wasn't just about proving his worth to the world. It was about giving his family peace.
Unable to stay cooped up in his room any longer, Ned left the dorms and wandered the city. Wenstin at night was breathtaking, a city of lights and whispers. The cobblestone streets shimmered under the glow of enchanted lanterns. Streams of water flowed through the city, glistening like liquid silver, reflecting the starlit sky above. The scent of blooming nightflowers filled the air, and distant music from the celebrations drifted softly through the streets.
He found himself walking along a stream, the gentle sound of water soothing his restless mind. The moon hung low, casting a soft glow over the city. It was a moment of calm in the storm of his thoughts.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice startled him. Ned turned to see Reena, her silhouette framed against the silver light.
"Now don't throw one of those cheesy lines at me," she added with a grin.
Ned smirked. "What cheesy line? I was just going to agree with you. It is beautiful."
Reena stepped closer, her expression shifting to concern. "Are you okay? You've seemed… off since the first round."
Ned sighed, his gaze returning to the stream. "I'm scared, Reena. Scared of tomorrow's tournament. What if I'm not strong enough? What if…" He trailed off, the words too heavy to finish.
Reena placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm scared too," she admitted. "But my dad always says, 'Just trust yourself and try. If you fail, you'll do better next time.' It's simple, but it's true. All we can do is our best."
Ned chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through his somber mood. "Ah, Duke Dennis. Always full of wisdom. Is he still doing that video game thing? I heard he created a new channel where he just plays games. Weird concept, but people seem to love it."
Reena laughed. "Yeah, he calls it streaming. He says it's a fitting name for his talent."
"Streaming…" Ned mused. "If everything goes south, maybe I'll become a 'streamer.' I bet father-in-law would be happy to take me under his wing."
Reena's laughter faltered, her cheeks turning red. "F-Father-in-law?! What?" she sputtered, flustered.
Ned turned to her with the most deadpan expression. "What father-in-law? What are you talking about?"
"I'm pretty sure that's what you said!" Reena shot back, trying to regain her composure.
Ned, the master of nonchalance, shrugged. "Come on, Reena. The betting rounds have gotten into your head. Let's head back before you start hearing things again."
Reena frowned, doubting herself. "Maybe you're right…" she muttered, following him back to the dorms.
As they walked, Ned whispered under his breath, "Gaslighting is bad, kids. Don't do it."
Back in his room, Ned lay awake, his thoughts a storm once more. Tomorrow would decide everything. As much as he feared the challenges ahead, he couldn't back down. He had something to prove—not just to himself, but to the world.
"No matter what happens, I'll give it everything I've got."