Some people play music…
Others challenge it."
---
After Silencia, we arrived in a new town —
A small place, but with a very different soul.
Here, music wasn't just art.
It was a battle.
Every performer… was a fighter.
This was Tarnhelm.
---
The stage was ready.
But something felt off this time.
> "People here don't listen to music for joy,"
Toren said.
"They listen to see who wins."
That felt strange.
Music wasn't supposed to be like this.
But I walked up anyway…
And the very first name that was announced was—
> "Noen Vale…
vs…
Cyril Ardan, The Violin Duelist."
I froze.
> "Duel…?"
I whispered to Toren.
He nodded.
> "Here, music is a competition.
And your opponent… isn't just any musician."
---
Then he walked in.
Cyril.
Dressed in all black, holding a polished, radiant violin.
He stood like a knight ready for war.
> "You sing, don't you?" he asked.
"I play.
Let's see whose beat breaks the crowd's heart first."
---
We stood face to face.
The crowd screamed.
Some chanted "Violin will win!"
Others shouted "The new kid's good!"
Inside… I felt pain.
This wasn't the music I believed in.
This was a show.
But I wasn't here to prove anything.
I was just here to share my truth.
---
Cyril started.
His violin sang like lightning.
Sharp, fast, fierce.
Sparks seemed to fly through the air with every stroke.
The crowd roared.
They were jumping, clapping, shouting.
I understood right then —
This guy didn't just play music…
He commanded it.
---
Then… it was my turn.
I stepped forward.
Picked up my guitar.
Closed my eyes.
And spoke only one line:
> "I didn't come here to defeat you…
I came here to listen to you.
Now, it's my turn —
for my own voice."
---
I began.
Softly.
Where Cyril's performance was thunder…
Mine was a still lake.
> "Behind every note, there's a story.
You might be noise.
But I… I am a memory."
Slowly, my rhythm synced with the breath of the crowd.
People didn't clap.
They didn't cheer.
They just listened.
---
For the first time, Cyril looked… angry.
> "What is this? You didn't even fight me."
I smiled.
> "Did I ever say I came to fight?"
---
He walked off the stage.
No winner was announced.
But I knew —
I had won.
Because people weren't cheering…
They were leaving…
In silence. In thought.
---
And then, a little girl came up to me.
Her father, who had never picked up an instrument in his life, stood behind her.
She said:
> "My papa said…
he wants to learn guitar now."
---
And I realized —
Sometimes, more important than winning…
is awakening.
---
To be continued…