Seven Games for Life

2.10

An ethereal being is more an object of obsession than admiration.

2.10 | The Moon Spirit |

             

                 Everyone watched with a large gaping mouth as the heaving boy pushed a brutally stabbed and resentfully resisting Victor outside the ring.

Berton coughed a little in his fist and loudly declared, " Young master Jason wins the match. "

His booming voice finally made the dumbfounded spectators react. For the past two years, no other trainee had the ability to deal a stab on Victor, much less push him out of the ring. They erupted in murmurs among themselves, the conjecture of the outcome was unacceptable, but they had to acknowledge what their eyes saw. Championing a tournament was nothing compared to the harsh fighting and training they went under, and defeating one of the best fighters from the base was no less than a miracle.

They looked up at the barely thirteen or fourteen years old boy, splats of blood marring his handsome face which resembled the leader too much and still had those cute baby fats stuck on the cheeks. He pursed his lips, eyes glazed over and tugged at the shirt sleeve over his stabbed hand, issuing a soft hiss. Looking at his demeanor, they were startled : they couldn't superimpose the resolute brutality upon this image of the cuteness overload.

Even more astonishing was the fact that, he never showed any angry, cold, annoyed or any expression that people take on while fighting, he simply gave off an angelic smile — as if the whole match was an enjoyable, immersive game.

Reaching this conjecture, they felt a chill run down their spines.

               Vincent however scrunched his brows, his voice cold, " You're pathetic. That stab in the shoulder was utterly unnecessary. "

He grabbed his uninjured hand and pushed him at Berton, and barked at him, " Let him duel all day long today. As long as he hasn't defeated at least ten more, don't touch his wounds. "

" Yes master. Young master, this way please. "

Jason however hid his thundering heartbeats and terrified expression behind a pout and his complaining eyes shone like those of an injured little beast which as if was horribly wronged. He was in pain and exhausted, but complaining out loud wouldn't change his fate of beating more people.

That sneaky old man! Does he want me die here? Jason's pout got heavier, ... Ouch! Guess I have to engage in some action now. Sigh, why couldn't I choose a dad for myself?

Just then his eyes met with Victor. Whoever had named him, had poured all their ambition upon the child through it. A name heavily leaning towards his father and also victory.

Doesn't he feel suffocated when so many people put their stakes on him? When he naturally bears the highest amount of expectations? Poor guy —

Unexpectedly, in return of Victor's extreme glare, Jason just winked at him once before turning to follow Berton, leaving Victor baffled.

Among the spectators, there were four more children of Vincent. They obviously were no match for Victor, they also had faced crushing defeats in his hands within that same ring multiple times. They were blood related, but their mothers were different. But they all had the same goal — to inherit the mantle from Vincent Romanov one day.