The bastard's blade

Ran stood in the waiting room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, watching the duel unfold on the massive stadium grounds. Cheers thundered across the sky as Dawn Montello, the girl he'd fought beside that day in the town, landed her final strike. Her opponent—a young noble named Paul Morgue—bowed respectfully, holding her hand in gratitude, his cheeks flushed red with both embarrassment and admiration.

"She's a first-year?"

Ran muttered.

He thought she'd be a sophomore, someone already polished and experienced. But no—she was competing like the rest of them. Ran clenched his fists. The gap between them was huge. Her grace, her technique, her sheer presence—he'd have to fight like hell to win against someone like that.

The anchor's voice echoed across the grounds, loud and theatrical.

"Next match: Ran versus Ricky Palaologue."

A few students laughed at the way Ran's name was announced. No family, no prestige. Just a name.

Ran walked forward into the stadium. The sunlight hit his face as thousands of eyes landed on him. Some glaring with disdain. Some ignoring him entirely. And some, oddly enough, watching with curiosity.

Seniors and sophomores were the audience. The great entrance tournament only accepted those who could prove themselves. The path to scholarship was only granted to the first-place winner. Ran's only chance.

He stepped onto the marble-like platform, drawing the crimson sword from his back. The weapon pulsed as if alive, its red aura dancing like a dying flame. He heard whispers ripple through the crowd.

"Crimson sword?"

"Is that magic?"

"What's that aura?"

On the other side stood his opponent. Ricky Palaologue. A foreign noble with dyed white hair, flashy silver armor, and a cocky grin that irritated Ran instantly.

Ricky scoffed.

"A commoner should feel honored to even breathe the same air as me."

Ran didn't respond. He just stared.

All that mattered was suppressing the curse. He could feel it already—his heart pounding. His fake heart. The one gifted by a demon. The seal on his chest glowed faintly beneath his shirt. Suppression… hold on… stay calm…

"Match—begin!"

Ricky leaped back, raising his staff.

"Fire Magic: Scorching Bolt!"

A flaming orb hurtled toward Ran. He sidestepped, barely phased, watching the attack explode behind him. The crowd reacted with scattered gasps. Not at the dodge—but at the eerie smile beginning to spread across Ran's face.

The seal on his chest pulsed red.

He gritted his teeth, pushing down the thrill rising in his gut.

Ricky frowned.

"You dare smile at me? You piece of trash!"

Ran didn't answer. He raised his sword, the blade humming with dark energy. He exhaled deeply.

"Shadow Rush."

He vanished for a moment. A blur of crimson light.

Ricky panicked, throwing up a magical barrier just in time—but it cracked. Ran's blade sliced through, nicking Ricky's arm.

"Argh!"

Ricky screamed. \

"You—!"

Rage overtook him.

"Fire Magic: Incinerate!"

BOOOM!

A wall of flame erupted toward Ran, engulfing everything in its path.

The stadium fell silent, only the roar of fire filling the air.

When the smoke cleared… Ran was still standing.

Steam rose off his body, and his clothes were slightly charred—but his stance hadn't changed. His hair swayed in the aftermath of the blast.

A crooked grin curled across his lips.

The crowd murmured.

"He's smiling…?"

"That's creepy…"

"What is he?"

Dawn Montello, seated among the higher-ranked students, narrowed her eyes.

"It's him."

She remembered that expression—that grin from the town. The same bloodthirsty face when he slashed through the monster. She hadn't been wrong. Something was off about him.

Ran looked down at his hand. It was trembling. No—shaking from excitement. His breathing grew heavier. The seal was glowing brighter. Suppressing—but struggling.

"What am I doing…?"

He muttered, snapping out of it.

He forced his grin down and stared at Ricky. The noble boy was now trembling, a far cry from his arrogant self just moments ago.

"Stay back! You're a freak!"

Ran darted forward.

"No, no, no—!"

Before Ricky could react, Ran closed the distance.

Crack!

Ricky's weapon shattered under the force of a parry. Ran's blade sliced through his chest plate, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Not a killing blow—but enough to knock him out of the tournament.

"Victory—Ran!"

The arena went quiet.

No cheers. No applause. Just stunned silence.

Even the announcer was hesitant to speak again. Students looked at each other with confused expressions. The commoner who just crushed a noble. With an ominous sword. With that face.

Ran wasted no time. He turned around and walked off the platform, ignoring everyone's eyes on him.

"That sword… wasn't mana-based."

One senior muttered.

"That wasn't even normal swordsmanship…"

Another whispered.

Ynnefer Valmonth, the student council president, leaned forward in her seat. 

Osiris Le Slyford the genius gazed at him.

But Dawn said nothing. She simply watched him leave, a faint smile on her lips.

Ran passed through the tunnel and emerged back into the waiting area. He kept walking until he was completely alone, his breaths shallow and mind spinning.

He looked down at his chest. The seal had cooled down. For now.

But that wasn't a victory.

That was a warning.