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Noah continued punching the bag in her place. “Since when has it ever been fair? When I was in Handent, I fought a Profane who forced me to fake my death in order to escape, and another captured me like a fly in a web. In Welindar, the battle was lost because I failed to kill Kaisen before he could transform. This is the struggle of fighting against the Profane, the struggle of being outclassed and overpowered. In this war, surviving with just a bruised ego is victory enough. You stood up to that monster, you fought, you survived.

Seraph circled Phune, avoiding the mage’s attacks while replying with blasts of holy energy. They were small and weak bursts, as Seraph had little mana to spare, and were meant to distract more than harm, at least long enough for him to get in close and land a hit with his mace. That said, Phune wouldn’t have made it this far in the tournament if he could be defeated by such rudimentary tactics. He was quick on his feet, able to dodge with great skill and summon water barriers to block Seraph’s magic. Seraph was being kept at a distance, and getting in too close without a proper opening would be suicide.

“Because I was like you when I was young. My ego was as great as my powers, and I did awful things because I thought right and wrong didn’t apply to me. Then, when I was finally put on the right path and looked at myself, the guilt was unbearable, eating away at me like a swarm of goblins. My mentor, my predecessor as Light’s Emissary, helped me bear my pain and taught me to carry the guilt instead of dragging it behind me.