Needles Beneath the Silent Night
"It's okay, I'll teach you."
Julian D'Aurelius's calm voice echoed softly through the shattered martial arts hall, standing in sharp contrast to the chaos surrounding them.
The cold night wind drifted through the broken gates of the arena, carrying with it the scent of blood, dust, and burnt incense. Groans of pain rose from every corner of the hall as injured Old Martial Arts experts struggled to remain conscious.
Moonlight poured through the collapsed sections of the roof, illuminating pools of crimson scattered across the cracked stone floor.
The once-proud gathering of Valemont's Old Martial Arts forces now looked miserable beyond words.
Some sat leaning against pillars with pale faces.
Some lay motionless while their companions anxiously checked their breathing.
Others quietly clenched their fists in humiliation.
Tonight, their pride had been crushed completely.
A single man had overturned the entire gathering.
Steffan.
