Day of the Tournament.
Next morning.
The day of the Tournament.
In Isaac's room.
A shimmer of light pierced through narrow gaps of the curtains and lightened the room in bright sunlight.
The light reached the large and soft-looking bed, but it was empty, utterly void of any life.
The blanket covered the whole bed; it didn't have any wrinkles or signs of anyone ever sleeping in it!
*Creak*
Suddenly, a sound came from the direction of the desk.
In front of a desk, a white-haired young man was sitting while a notebook was in front of him.
He had a pencil between his thumb and index finger, which was moving like a streak of lightning as more words were appearing on the notebook's paper.
''And… Done!'' He did the final straight line on the notebook, separating the top and bottom parts.
The top part had a gun drawing, which somewhat resembled a Musket Rifle.
In the middle of the paper was the straight line and finally, at the bottom part had thousands of words.