[Ragnor's POV]
That dagger.
I just knew there was something strange about it. Even among my family, which was filled with renowned craftsmen, none of them ever came close to creating such a masterpiece.
For a weapon not to crumble under the amount of pressure Jake placed on this dagger, it had to be made by some of the very best craftsmen this world had ever seen… and for more than one thousand years. All of them had been dwarves.
But the trick here is that none of them ever made something remotely close to this.
I just had to figure out where it came from. I didn't care about losing. I had only gotten here because of my equipment. But I wasn't a great fighter, nor did I ever claim to be. It was obvious that I would lose to any talented fighter in this tournament.
But as I said before, I didn't care.
So, as I was practically dying on the ground, feeling the pressure in my chest rising, followed by sharp pain, I ignored it, looking my opponent dead in the eyes.
