Defeat

Ragnar woke up in a rush, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. The memory of last night's experience was still fresh in his mind—the searing pain, the suffocating heat, the torment that came with strengthening his soul. He felt lucky to be alive, much less coherent.

"What the fuck was that?" he muttered to himself, trying to steady his racing heart. "System, why did I go through so much pain just to strengthen my soul?" he asked, his voice harsh with frustration.

The system responded calmly, its tone in stark contrast to the turmoil in Ragnar's mind.

[Strengthening the soul is an ability that defies the law of equilibrium. All beings are born with a predefined soul strength and potential. If someone chooses to go against it, consequences equal to the benefits will be given back. Host went through pain as the being and potential of host went through a change.]

Ragnar was dumbfounded. Going against balance itself? Isn't that, like, a big cosmic no-no? Who the hell is this "Banished One," anyway? What kind of power could defy the fundamental laws of existence? It was unsettling, to say the least.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and shuffled to the sink in the corner of the room. The cold water helped clear his head, but his thoughts were still racing with questions. After splashing his face, he took a moment to inspect his body for any noticeable changes. Physically, he seemed the same—no unexpected muscle growth or weird tattoos—but something did feel different.

His mind was sharper, his thoughts clearer. The constant buzz of small worries that usually clouded his focus had vanished. He felt more grounded, more capable of processing complex ideas without the usual distractions. It was like someone had cleared out the mental clutter he'd carried around for years.

If Ragnar had to be honest, the changes to his mental state were undeniably beneficial. His senses were sharper, his mind more focused, and he had a newfound clarity that felt invigorating. It was a significant boost, one that could give him an edge in the academy entrance exams and beyond.

But if you asked him whether he'd go through the soul-strengthening process again, the answer was a resounding "no." The excruciating pain and the sheer intensity of the experience were enough to deter him from even considering it.

Ragnar shivered at the memory of last night's torment. The feeling of boiling heat coursing through his body was not something he ever wanted to experience again.

"Ugh, unless my back is against a wall with no other option," he muttered to himself, "I won't even think in that direction."

It was already morning, and Ragnar's stomach was growling. He decided to head downstairs to the diner's breakfast area to grab a bite to eat. As he entered the bustling space, he saw that it was nearly full. Most of the people were around his age, chatting animatedly over plates of food. The conversations were a mix of casual banter and ambitious dreams—some people discussing their sword techniques, others sharing stories of the academy and their aspirations.

Ragnar found an empty seat in a corner and settled in. It was a spot away from the noise, offering him a moment of relative peace. A waiter approached, handing him a menu. The list of food options was impressively varied—noodles, roasted chicken, various steaks, and more.

Ragnar's hunger drove him to order a hearty meal. He chose roasted chicken with a special sauce and a side of fresh bread. The waiter nodded, jotting down the order, and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

'Man, this place is packed.' He thought.

As he was waiting for his food, a guy in blue cloak and grey hair approached him.

"Yo! Is that seat taken? You mind if I sit?" he waved and asked in a friendly tone.

"Please help yourself." Ragnar said.

"Thanks man. Its hard getting a seat around here. This place is packed. I'm Julius." He said extending his hand.

"Ragnar." He replied accepting the handshake.

"Nice to meet you Ragnar. Are you also here for the entrance exams?" He asked excitedly.

Ragnar nodded.

"Hehe. Indeed, a man should strive for greatness. This is how life should be!" Julius exclaimed.

"Haha, true. We should always strive to become better." Ragnar agreed with him.

"Right?!..."

Before he could continue, the waiter came and took his order.

"I'll have what this gentleman took." He said and continued conversing with Ragnar.

They talked quite a lot. Ragnar was himself surprised that he talked that much. Usually, he was not one to hold conversation, but he still talked with him.

After eating their food, Julius asked him.

"Say, what's your plan for today? Tomorrow is the exam; we still have the whole day ahead of us."

Ragnar thought a bit and said,

"Well, I've been meaning to explore the city. It's my first time here. So, I wanted to walk around a bit."

"Cool. Mind if I tag along?" Julius said.

"Sure. I don't see why not."

As they walked, Julius chatted enthusiastically, sharing stories about his life and his journey to Axiom City. He was the youngest child of a merchant family from Morita City, but unlike his siblings, he didn't want to follow the traditional path of business. Instead, he aspired to become a powerful mage, so he left home, leaving behind a note explaining that he was heading to the academy to pursue his dream. Julius exuded confidence, the kind of person who would do anything to achieve his goals.

"I'm pretty sure I'll pass the exams," Julius declared, a hint of pride in his voice. "I started sensing mana recently, and I can feel it's only getting stronger."

In this world, gaining admission to an academy required either a demonstration of talent or the ability to sense mana. As mana was omnipresent, some people were born with the natural capacity to sense it, while others developed it through rigorous training. People like Erica, who could conjure fire, were among the rare few with such talent.

Julius's eyes widened with interest when Ragnar mentioned his encounter with Erica. "Oh! So, you've actually met someone like that? That's impressive!" He nodded enthusiastically. "But don't worry, I won't lose to any of them!"

Ragnar chuckled at Julius's exuberance. It was refreshing to see someone with so much energy and drive. Though Julius talked a lot about his own background and ambitions, he was polite enough not to pry into Ragnar's abilities. In this world, it was considered impolite to ask someone about their skills or talents unless they offered the information willingly.

The city was bustling with energy, and many places were dedicated to training and friendly sparring. People gathered to exchange pointers, testing their skills against each other in controlled environments. The general rule was to avoid serious injury, focusing on improving through mutual learning.

Ragnar and Julius stood outside one such sparring ring, watching as people engaged in sword fights using wooden swords. It was an interesting sight, with spectators cheering on their favorites. To Ragnar, the atmosphere felt invigorating. It was a lively scene where people displayed their skill and determination.

Among the fighters, one blond-haired guy stood out. He moved with fluid precision, his technique smooth and confident. He consistently defeated his opponents, each victory earning him louder cheers from the onlookers. It was clear that he was the star of the ring.

Julius nudged Ragnar playfully. "Hey, why don't you go and spar with him? You've been carrying that sword around. Surely you know how to use it, right?" he teased with a grin.

Ragnar chuckled at the suggestion but shook his head. "I'm not sure about that. I'm mostly brute strength. Someone like him, who has skill and technique, would take me down without much effort," he admitted honestly.

"Oh, come on, don't be so boring. Who cares if you win or lose? The point of sparring is to learn from each other. Shoo shoo. Go on," Julius urged, pushing Ragnar forward.

'This guy...' Ragnar thought, letting out a sigh. But he knew Julius was right; sparring was about growth, not just winning or losing. And besides, he was curious to test his skills against someone with clear experience.

When the current match ended, with the defeated man leaving the stage after being disarmed, Ragnar stepped into the ring. The crowd murmured with interest, wondering how the newcomer would fare against the blond guy who'd been winning all morning.

The blond guy looked to be around Ragnar's age, his green eyes focused with a predatory intensity. His sharp features and confident stance suggested that he was no stranger to combat. He wore a casual black shirt and trousers, and his short hair was neatly styled. As Ragnar approached, the blond guy gave a nod of acknowledgment before settling into his combat stance.

Ragnar gripped his wooden sword, his muscles tensing as he waited for the gong to signal the start of the match. He sized up his opponent, a blond-haired young man with a confident stance. As soon as the gong rang out, Ragnar lunged forward with a swift vertical slash, aiming to test his opponent's defense.

The blond guy parried the attack with ease, barely shifting his weight. His movements were smooth and controlled, revealing his experience and skill. Ragnar's attack was deflected to the side, leaving him momentarily off balance. He quickly recovered, stepping back to reassess his strategy.

The blond man didn't give him much time to think. He countered with a swift diagonal strike, forcing Ragnar to react quickly. Ragnar managed to block the attack, but the impact sent vibrations through his wooden sword, reminding him that he was facing a formidable opponent.

Ragnar tried to change his tactics, attacking with a series of quick feints to throw his opponent off guard. The blond man, however, saw through his strategy and calmly deflected each attempt. His eyes stayed locked on Ragnar's movements, reading every subtle shift in his body language.

The crowd around them grew louder, sensing the intensity of the duel. Ragnar knew he had to try something different to gain the upper hand. He took a deep breath and darted to the side, attempting to flank his opponent. But the blond man anticipated the move and stepped back, avoiding the strike with graceful ease.

Before Ragnar could recover, the blond man surged forward, pressing his advantage. He struck with a powerful overhead swing, and Ragnar barely managed to block it, his knees buckling under the force. The crowd gasped as Ragnar was forced to his knees, struggling to maintain his grip on the wooden sword.

The blond man didn't waste any time. He swung again, this time aiming for Ragnar's exposed side. Ragnar tried to roll away, but he wasn't quick enough. The wooden sword struck his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

Ragnar grimaced in pain, but he refused to give up. He scrambled to his feet, holding his wooden sword defensively. The blond man didn't let up, coming at him with a relentless series of strikes. Ragnar blocked and parried as best as he could, but it was clear he was losing ground.

In a final burst of energy, Ragnar tried to counterattack, aiming for the blond man's midsection. The blond man sidestepped the strike and delivered a swift blow to Ragnar's chest, sending him sprawling on the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, impressed by the blond man's skill and decisive victory.

The referee stepped in, signaling the end of the match. Ragnar lay on the ground, breathing heavily. He knew he'd been outmatched, but he also knew that losing was part of the journey. As he got back to his feet, he looked at his opponent, who offered him a hand to help him up.

"You fought well," the blond man said, giving Ragnar a respectful nod.

Ragnar took the offered hand and got back on his feet, a little bruised but no worse for wear. He knew he was outmatched, but he hadn't expected to be defeated so decisively. His opponent didn't rely on flashy moves or complex techniques—just basic dodges and feints, yet he still overpowered Ragnar with ease.

After steadying himself, Ragnar extended his hand to the blond guy and shook it firmly. "Thank you for the experience," he said, acknowledging the skills of his opponent.

The blond guy smiled, his eyes warm despite the intensity of the match. "Likewise," he replied, showing a measure of respect.