The winter sun is rising in the middle of the sky, the snow has melted, the black dirt on the ground is still a little wet, and the final game is taking place in the center of the arena.

Tokolin wielded his long sword with both hands, and the ice-blue sword light folded a few afterimages in the air, slashing at his opponent, and Roque, who couldn't dodge, could only use his two swords to fight back.

Heavy force was transmitted from the blade of the sword to the wrist, and slight sparks and harsh grinding sounds were drawn at the junction of the blades. Tokolin did not withdraw his sword, but continued to press forward, strength being his strong point.

The slanted blade was only 2 inches away from Roque's head, and holding two swords was not as powerful as one, and as Tocorin advanced, Roque could only step back.

Unable to do this, Roque turned his footsteps, took the sword in his hand to the right, and took advantage of this to withdraw a sword and slash it at the opponent's wrist.

Seeing this, Tocorin still did not withdraw his sword to dodge, but slashed his sword diagonally upwards from the bottom right, and exchanged his wounds for victory.

Roque rolled nimbly to the left, and the sword in his hand could only cut a shallow wound on the opponent's wrist, and blood began to flow down the wound, staining the strip of cloth wrapped around the hilt of the sword red. When Tocorin saw Roque roll to the side, he did not fight, but distanced himself and waited for him again. Roque is nimble, and it is not wise to engage him in close combat.

He swung the long sword in his hand again, and held it high in the air, the ice blue light of the sword body flowed, and a cold wind swung towards Roque, making Roque feel as if his blood was frozen, and his body stiffened, and before he could use his magic to contact this negative effect, Tocorin rushed over again.

Bell –

A sword flew directly into the sky with the sound of impact, and Roque reached out and pulled out the dagger in his boot, and rushed directly into Tocorin's arms, the dagger flashed with a cold light of magical power, although it did not open, but it was still not small.

Tocorin stomped heavily on the ground, sharp ice spikes bulging from the ground, piercing through Roque's shoes, the ice spikes shattered, but many of them also pierced into his feet, a biting cold and pain came from the child, making his speed pause, Tocorin pulled away again, and the sword light swept through.

Damn, doesn't this guy have any weaknesses? Roque turned around, picked up the thin sword that had fallen to the ground, swung the two swords cross, and rushed forward again.

Due to the injury to his foot, Roque did not have the agility he had before, and he could not fight for a long time, so he could only fight quickly, and the bright red magic began to spread in the sword body, and the blood vessels in his body were vigorous, and in winter, bursts of white vapor rose.

The crimson shadow of the sword quickly engaged the ice-blue opponent in the air, sparks flowing, and every now and then ice chips shook off and then melted again. With the violent collision, the originally thin thin thin sword began to appear one after another, and finally turned into pieces with a bang. Roque gripped his remaining sword and continued to fold and swing.

Tocorin raised his sword sideways, the ice blue light flowed, and the cold wind rolled upside down, creating bursts of suction, slowing down Roque's figure, and then swinging it down.

It was actually this trick, Roque was surprised in his heart, and he didn't have time to think about it, just like the last duel with Isaiah, after approaching quickly, in the midst of lightning and flint, the thin sword shattered, and then a dagger crossed Tocorin's collar, and a slight blood mark appeared on the opponent's neck, and a trace of blood began to leave along the neck.

"Roque wins, the final is over!"

Seeing this, the referee hurriedly shouted to stop, and then asked people to rescue Tocorin, after all, he was once the son of a viscount and a genius, so he couldn't die here at will.

After a moment of silence, Tocorin slowly lowered his sword, his eyes burning at Roque, as if to remember this opponent.

I'm sorry, but I'm not going to throw in the towel and give up. Roque thought to himself, and then looked at each other without shying away.

The college competition in Ike City was finally staged in the final round, and after the competition, Roque noticed the enthusiastic cheers of the audience, and some of the audience were fascinated and worth the trip.

"Roque!"

"Roque!"

"Roque!"

"Roque!"

A group of students gathered around, they lifted the rising star and threw it high, next to the sound of cheers and celebrations, although Roque usually didn't care about the opinions of the people around him, but this taste of victory was still so delicious, so that his heart also relaxed, like a long-suppressed dark cloud, was removed, and he saw the beautiful sun and the future.

Emenas, a glorious and heroic name, the yearning of countless people, will open its doors to him today.

In stark contrast to the enthusiastic cheers next to him was another silent teenager. Tocorin covered the wound on his wrist and slowly walked into the dark passageway, quietly leaving the lively venue that had nothing to do with him.

A dilapidated carriage was parked outside, its decoration faded and many still mottled and peeling, and Tokolin boarded the carriage without saying a word.

"Doesn't it matter the young master's wrist?" The old coachman inquired with concern.

"Well, it's all right, let's go, Uncle Fich."

"Okay." The old coachman didn't ask anymore when he saw it, he knew his young master's temperament, and since the old man's death, he had become more and more indifferent and stubborn.

Failed this time, but I'm still young, and I'll definitely come back next year, wait, Roque, and I'll beat you again, as I have done countless times. It's just your luck this time. Tocorin looked out the window at the arena until it slowly faded into view.

----------------------

Burris home behind the mountains, training in the woods.

"So, that's why you've been looking for me to spar this month?"

Roque had bandages around his feet, and although he couldn't see it with his shoes, he still felt pain from time to time.

"That's right, I used to learn from the master of the Sword of the Wind faction with Tocorin, he learned this trick very quickly at the time, and he liked it very much, there is no reason not to use it in battle, I just let you familiarize yourself with this trick in advance."

Isaiah replied as a matter of course.

"But it's not fair." Roque replied.

"Fairness, what is fairness? There's never a perfect fairness, Roque. Isaiah replied in a rare earnest tone.

"Your father is the captain of the guard, you can be exposed to swords since you were a child, you don't have to worry about food and clothing, you have enough nutrition, you have a teacher to take you from the beginning, and you have plenty of time to practice."

"But those children from poor families don't have this kind of conditions, many of them have never touched a real sword in their lives, not only do they have no teacher to teach them, but they also have to help the family work, so they don't have time to practice at all."

"It's not fair that you win against them, why should you qualify. What kind of outcome do you want to pursue to be truly fair? ”

"I admit that the talent is not as good as yours, but I have a good sister and a good birth, I do not reject these, but will make good use of the existing conditions."

"I don't think it's just hard work that makes me who I am, there are more complicated reasons for this, but should I be ashamed, no."

"I will live well, I will also try to make the lives of the people around me better, I want to be a hero and shine on everyone around me."

"Instead of dwelling on your narrow fairness."