NOVEL NEXT Chapter 63: North Station Spar Arena
For the next several days, Nyxander continued to spar with Seraphina as Lumina had demanded, their clashes becoming a daily ritual beneath the rising sun. Though Nyxander consistently held the upper hand, his calculated strikes and flawless counters forced Seraphina to dig deeper into her potential.
Each blow she received and every dodge she executed sharpened her strength and battle acumen, molding her raw talent into something formidable. Unbeknownst to either of them, these relentless exchanges wove an invisible thread between their lives, a bond formed not through words but through the unspoken language of combat.
Even beyond the sparring grounds, Seraphina's fiery determination refused to wane. Like a mischievous shadow, she would ambush Nyxander at the most unexpected moments, during his leisure hours, amidst the hum of his tasks, or even in the quiet lulls of the day.
Her antics, though frustrating at first, became a peculiar rhythm to Nyxander's days, an ever-present challenge that drew out faint smiles he rarely allowed himself. And in the chaos of her ambushes and his unyielding rebuttals, something intangible began to grow, a connection neither of them could yet name, rooted in the sparks of their unending dance.
After each morning spar, Nyxander turned his focus to his Station Supporting Agencies, his gaze ever watchful over his team of three.
He moved like a storm through the bustling districts, inspecting their conduct and addressing every misstep with swift resolve. Yet, his punishments were never straightforward; they came in the guise of grueling training sessions, each designed to instill discipline while honing their skills. It was a blend of justice and mentorship that transformed his initial fearsome authority into something far greater, a respect deeply etched into the hearts of his subordinates.
Word of the agency's reputation began to spread like wildfire. Shopkeepers whispered stories of its leader's unrelenting vigilance and his team's improving discipline, painting the organization as both dependable and fearsome.
Trust, that fragile currency of relationships, began to flow freely from merchants and employers alike, leading to a surge in service demands. And though Nyxander's presence loomed large in the minds of his team, what had once been paralyzing fear began to evolve. Slowly but surely, it became a reverent respect, a recognition of his relentless pursuit of excellence, not just for himself but for those under his care.
And so, time passed. The days blurred into a steady rhythm of combat, correction, and camaraderie. Each sparring session and every ambush refined not only Seraphina's abilities but also Nyxander's patience.
Each disciplinary act, veiled as training, became a stepping stone for his team, solidifying the foundation of their agency's growing fame. And amidst it all, Nyxander stood at the center, unaware of how the threads of respect, trust, and something deeper wove themselves into the fabric of his ever-shifting world.
It had been two weeks since Nyxander first stepped within the station walls, and now the day of his sparring test had arrived, the countdown lapsed into the present. The creak of the door to his residence broke the stillness as Nyxander stepped out, stretching slightly to ease the stiffness in his shoulders. His gaze fell on Beorn, standing patiently outside with the calm poise of someone who had been waiting.
"What are you waiting for? Everyone's already gathered," Beorn said, his voice steady but edged with mild impatience.
"Oh, yeah." Nyxander nodded, stepping forward to join him. They strode side by side along the winding walkway. As they walked, Nyxander couldn't help but notice the eerie calm that had replaced the usual bustling life of the district. The streets, once teeming with merchants and chatter, now lay subdued, with only a few scattered passersby and a handful of shops open.
Nyxander's eyes darted around, his curiosity sparked by the unusual quiet. Turning to Beorn, he finally asked, "Why is everything so quiet? Is it because of today's event?" His words were carried softly by the cool morning breeze.
Beorn gave a knowing chuckle. "Half correct. Normally, events like this attract only a modest crowd, but your presence has stirred something different. Merchants, traders, and even regular townsfolk, they've all gathered to witness your spar. You've drawn quite the audience, it seems."
Nyxander hummed thoughtfully, his gaze still sweeping the subdued streets as they navigated the labyrinth of turns. Eventually, their steps brought them to a towering wooden structure, triangular in shape, with the words North Station Spar Arena carved prominently above its entrance. The building stood proud, a monument of tradition and excitement, its open doors welcoming the steady flow of eager spectators.
"Wow," Nyxander breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, admiration lacing his tone.
Beorn nodded, glancing at him with a faint smirk. "Looks like your actions have piqued the interest of even the older folks," he teased.
Before Nyxander could respond, a familiar voice broke through the hum of the crowd. Lumina approached gracefully from a short distance, her composure as serene as freshly fallen snow. By her side was Seraphina, her expression less composed, her lips pressed into an irritated line.
"You've arrived," Lumina greeted, her tone calm and measured.
Nyxander's face broke into a grin. "Oh, Blue Rose! Hum!" he called out, waving enthusiastically. His attention then shifted to Seraphina, and with playful mischief dancing in his eyes, he added, "Hoo, Golden Stalker."
Seraphina's composure shattered instantly. "Stop calling me that!" she yelled, her voice high-pitched, brimming with indignation, like a child whose favorite toy had been stolen.
"I don't care," Nyxander replied with a dramatic wave of his hand, his tone dripping with exaggerated annoyance.
"You… you!" Seraphina's fists clenched, her face turning as red as embers in a roaring fire.
Beorn shifted uneasily, clearly anxious about the brewing confrontation, while Lumina let out a low, exasperated sigh before clearing her throat. "Humph." Her icy tone cut through their banter like a cold blade.
Seraphina huffed and turned her face away, pouting childishly, while Lumina turned to Beorn. "I'll take it from here. Thanks for accompanying him."
"Alright, ma'am," Beorn replied with a slight bow before disappearing through the arena's main entrance.
Lumina turned back to Nyxander, her voice cool yet commanding. "Follow me."
Nyxander nodded. "Okay."
Lumina walked ahead, her steps as fluid as flowing water, with Seraphina by her side, while Nyxander followed a few paces behind. The trio moved along the arena's exterior until they came to an abrupt halt.
Nyxander's gaze, which had been idly exploring his surroundings, quickly shifted to the figure standing before them. Dunstan loomed near a single door, his posture straight and commanding.
"Oh, you're here," Dunstan greeted, his tone neutral.
"Yeah, please open up," Lumina replied curtly.
Dunstan nodded, turning to open the door. He stepped aside, allowing Lumina and Seraphina to stride in. As Nyxander prepared to follow, Dunstan's piercing gaze caught his own.
"Have we met before?" Dunstan asked, suspicion threading his voice.
Nyxander's lips curled into a disarming smile. "Maybe. Not sure," he replied casually, brushing past him and disappearing into the dark tunnel beyond.
The tunnel stretched ahead like the maw of a beast, the faint murmurs of the gathered audience growing louder with every step. A soft light poured through a caged door at the far end, marking the threshold of the arena. Lumina and Seraphina stood waiting for him.
"You'll wait here until you're summoned," Lumina instructed, her tone firm but tinged with concern. As she turned to leave, she hesitated, adding, "Though I've seen your strength over the past few days, don't let your guard down. Be careful."
Nyxander's lips quirked into a confident smile. "Don't worry. I'll do whatever it takes to stand beside you."
The playful glint in his eyes only seemed to irritate Seraphina further. "Stop calling my sister weird names!" she shouted, her voice reverberating through the tunnel like the echoes of a storm.
Nyxander chuckled. "Why are you so mad? I wasn't even talking to you. Or…" He leaned in slightly, his tone teasing, "...are you jealous?"
Seraphina's face flushed an even deeper red, her temper threatening to boil over. Before she could retort, Lumina's sharp voice cut through the tension. "Enough."
With a sigh of resignation, she added, "Just don't overdo it, Nyx. If things get out of hand, signal me. I'll find a way to stop the match."
Turning on her heel, she strode away, her movements as precise as clockwork. "Let's go, Seraphina."
Seraphina, still fuming, stuck her tongue out at Nyxander in a childish gesture. "I hope you lose. Blah!" she teased, her voice dripping with defiance before dashing after Lumina.
Nyxander watched them leave, shaking his head with a small grin. The tunnel now fell silent, save for the faint hum of the arena beyond, where destiny awaited.
Outside, at the arena, the crowd buzzed with restless energy. The murmurs of spectators swirled in the air, their discussions tinged with curiosity and tension. Who was Nyxander's opponent? How would the match unfold? As the anticipation mounted, the arena transformed into a cauldron of excitement, waiting for the spectacle to begin.