Chapter 124| The Underdog’s Fire
The Association’s shared training facility, opened to all registered tournament parties in the weeks before competition officially began, buzzed with considerable activity by the time Fallen Crown arrived for their scheduled session — dozens of Hunters from across the qualifying field moving through drills and sparring matches with the particular, focused intensity of people who understood exactly how much rested on the coming weeks.
Allen noticed the smaller party immediately, if only because their considerable enthusiasm stood in such stark contrast to the more reserved, calculating energy radiating from several of the tournament’s more prestigious entries. Five young Hunters, none appearing older than their mid-twenties, worked through a coordinated drill sequence with more heart than polish, their leader — a lean, dark-haired young man with an easy, determined grin — calling out encouragement even as his own considerable effort left him visibly exhausted.
"That’s Party Emberline," Myria said, following Allen’s attention with characteristic, thorough knowledge. "Independent registration, no noble family backing. Their leader, Haruki Tanaka, awakened S+ rank barely eight months ago. Considerably the youngest confirmed roster in the entire tournament."
"Eight months," Allen repeated, something like recognition settling behind the observation. "That’s remarkably fast growth."
"Remarkable, and considerably underfunded, judging by their equipment," Vivian added, enhanced senses already cataloguing the party’s worn, mismatched gear. "They’ve earned their placement through pure skill and determination rather than family resources."
Allen watched the young man complete his drill with a final, triumphant flourish, grinning fiercely despite obvious, considerable exhaustion, and felt an unexpected, immediate kinship stir in his chest — the same fierce, stubborn determination that had once carried him through a year of impossible growth, starting from nothing but genuine will and the people willing to believe in him.
Haruki noticed their attention shortly after, and rather than the wary deference Allen had grown accustomed to from Hunters recognizing Fallen Crown’s considerable reputation, he simply grinned wider and jogged over with easy, unguarded enthusiasm.
"You’re Allen Veton," he said, extending a hand with genuine, star-struck warmth that made Allen’s earlier assessment of kinship settle even more firmly into place. "I’ve read every report about your party’s Jenunl Island operation. What you all accomplished there — genuinely incredible."
"Thank you," Allen said, shaking his hand, charmed despite himself by the young man’s unguarded sincerity. "You’re Haruki, right? Party Emberline?"
"That’s us," Haruki confirmed, pride evident despite his party’s obviously modest resources. "We’re not exactly favored to make it past the preliminaries, but we intend to give everyone a considerable fight regardless."
"I don’t doubt it," Allen said, meaning it genuinely. "That kind of drive matters considerably more than expensive equipment, in my experience."
Haruki’s expression brightened further at the validation, and the conversation continued easily as his own party members gradually drifted over, introductions passing warmly between both groups despite the considerable gulf in reputation and resources separating them.
"Can I ask you something?" Haruki said eventually, some of his earlier boundless enthusiasm giving way to genuine, considered curiosity. "Everyone talks about your growth like it’s some kind of impossible miracle. F-rank to S+ in barely a year. What’s the actual secret?"
Allen considered the question carefully, weighing how much of his system’s true nature to share with someone he’d only just met, before settling on an honest, if incomplete, answer. "Genuine care," he said. "For the people around me. Everything I’ve built, every bit of strength I’ve earned, came from actually investing in the people who mattered to me, rather than chasing power for its own sake."
Haruki absorbed that with visible, thoughtful consideration. "That’s not the answer I expected," he admitted. "But I think I understand it. My party — we’re not exactly the most naturally talented Hunters in this tournament. We just happen to genuinely trust each other, more than most parties seem to manage."
"That matters more than talent," Allen said firmly. "I’ve watched it prove decisive, over and over, against opponents who should have overwhelmed us on paper."
The exchange settled into something warmer, more genuine as the afternoon continued, Haruki’s party and Fallen Crown gradually intermingling across the training facility’s considerable space, sparring casually and exchanging tactical advice with none of the guarded competitiveness Allen had anticipated from rival tournament entries. Irene, predictably, gravitated immediately toward Haruki’s own fire-affinity specialist, a fierce young woman named Mika whose enthusiastic combat style rivaled Irene’s own restless energy.
"You’ve got decent form," Irene said, watching Mika execute a particularly aggressive flame combination. "Rough around the edges, but decent."
"High praise, coming from someone who fought a literal ancient Prince," Mika said, grinning despite her obvious, considerable exhaustion.
Vivian found herself drawn into conversation with Haruki’s own tactical coordinator, a quiet, observant young woman whose careful, methodical approach to battlefield analysis reminded her considerably of Myria’s own early strategic development, back before six years of hard-won experience had refined that instinct into something formidable.
By the time the training session concluded, exhaustion and genuine, unexpected warmth settled comfortably over both parties, and Allen found himself extending an invitation he hadn’t quite planned, though it felt entirely natural once the words left his mouth.
"You should train with us properly, before the tournament actually starts," he said. "Not just casual sparring. Real, coordinated preparation. We’ve got considerable resources at our disposal, and I’d genuinely like to see your party get a fair shot against whatever this tournament throws at you."
Haruki’s expression shifted through disbelief, gratitude, and finally something fiercely, genuinely moved. "You don’t have to do that," he said. "We’re not exactly the kind of party that helps your own reputation, associating with us."
"I don’t care about that," Allen said simply. "I care about genuine talent and heart getting a fair shot, the same way I was once given a fair shot by people who had every reason to write me off entirely."
Haruki’s answering smile carried the full, unguarded warmth of someone who’d just been offered considerably more than simple tournament preparation, and the two parties parted that evening with plans already forming for continued, joint training sessions in the weeks still remaining before the Ascension Tournament’s opening stages finally began.
"You’ve made a friend," Myria observed as they made their way back toward their own transport, watching Allen’s still-lingering, thoughtful expression with quiet, knowing amusement.
"I think I have," Allen agreed, something warm and genuine settling in his chest alongside the mounting anticipation of everything the tournament still had waiting ahead. "I like him. I hope his party makes it considerably further than the preliminaries."
Myria’s expression carried a flicker of something more complicated — professional caution, perhaps, or simple, careful awareness of exactly how unpredictable tournament outcomes could ultimately prove — but she said nothing further, simply settling beside him as their transport carried them back toward Hegeville’s continued, considerable transformation, and whatever else the coming weeks still had waiting to unfold.