The Fighter From Black Hound

Born into poverty, orphaned at nine, Vincent and his sister were sold into slavery. Their childhood was a brutal tapestry of struggle, hunger, and pain. Now, at twenty, Vincent barely managed to unlock his magical potential, sensing mana for the first time last month. It was a beautiful sight - tiny, shimmering specks dancing in the air - but draining and exhausting.

His combat prowess surged, however. He could subconsciously observe opponents using mana, gaining an edge in the brutal underground fighting pits. He'd been studying the prison guard for a week, learning his patterns, all with one goal:-freedom.

But his owner, with a keen eye, sensed his growing skill.

The Next Day

A gaunt figure emerged, his skin stretched tight over his bones, long, matted hair hiding scarred eyes. This was Vincent.

His opponent, clad in gleaming armor, was young, fresh-faced, and nervously optimistic. His stance was flawless, his mana pulsing like a well-oiled machine. But Vincent's heart plummeted when he saw a shimmering symbol on the youth's chest - a mark of an elite warrior.

Fear threatened to paralyze him. This was no fight, it was an execution. Yet, a spark of hope flickered within him. He yearned to find his sister, to save her from the same fate he endured. He couldn't give up.

He forced himself to calm down, his mind focusing on the danger sense screaming within him. The knight charged, his blade flashing. Vincent dodged just in time, rolling away with a grimace.

His only weapon was a small, unfamiliar dagger, disappointing but somewhat familiar. He raised it defensively, barely blocking a blow that cracked the blade, leaving him vulnerable. The knight, blinded by overconfidence, pressed his attack, mana rapidly depleting. Vincent realized he could stall for time, exploit the knight's recklessness.

With a desperate cry, he sacrificed his hand, the dagger lunging towards the knight's eyes. A surge of mana erupted, throwing Vincent back like a ragdoll, ribs and leg broken. The knight stood unscathed, but his mana star dimmed noticeably. Pain blinded Vincent, his mana sight fading.

The knight's blade glowed, his attack renewed but slower, his stance faltering. Vincent saw his chance and lunged, sending the knight reeling. He circled behind him, the dagger poised for the kill. Yet, a kick to the gut sent him reeling.

"Insolent wretch!" the knight roared. "Witness the might of the Knight Academy!"

He charged again, but the delay was crucial. Vincent's legs were numb, his hand useless, but a smile played on his lips. His vision cleared, and he saw the knight's mana star flickering, almost extinguished.

Predicting his every move was child's play with his mana sight. But one hit could be fatal.

Taking a deep breath, Vincent composed himself. The knight approached, his sword's light growing brighter. "Brave warrior, what is your name?" he asked proudly.

Vincent swallowed blood, trying to speak. The knight closed the distance, his resolve unwavering. Despite his facade of strength, his mana core was on the brink, his vessels leaking.

When inches apart, Vincent threw a handful of pebbles. The knight's blade deflected most, but the dagger found its mark, piercing the knight's shoulder. He stumbled, his dying burst of energy sending Vincent sprawling.

Blood erupted from the knight's body, his once-proud form crumpling. With a final effort, Vincent rose, limping towards the fallen blade.

Slash!

The lowly kitten from Black Hound House had earned a new name:- Fighter.