The deafening cheers of the crowd still echoed in the arena, but Damien had already turned away from the stage. The tournament was over, and the excitement of victory had long since faded from his mind. He walked through the stone corridor leading out of the battlefield, his steps steady, his thoughts focused elsewhere.
Just as he was about to exit the arena grounds, a familiar voice called out.
"Damien."
He stopped.
Instructor Charles stood near the entrance, his usual calm expression tinged with something unreadable. The older man studied him for a moment before stepping closer.
"You handled that fight well," Charles said, his sharp gaze settling on Damien's sword.
"Too well, in fact."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "Too well?"
Charles exhaled lightly befoe pulling out his insignia, he drew it closer to Damien's own Academy Insignia.
