The waiting room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Kalen sat on the bench alone, elbows resting on his knees, head lowered.
A towel hung loosely around his neck, the sweat it once wiped away had returned....heavier this time.
Not from exertion.
From pressure.
His chest rose and fell too quickly.
His breaths weren't steady.
He knew the signs. He'd trained his body to the brink more times than he could count.
This wasn't exhaustion. This was something else.
Something crawling beneath his skin.
Something waiting to unravel.
The room trembled slightly.
His senses skewed under the weight of his own ki.
GRIP
He clenched his fists.
'Not now'
A sharp knock.
Ta! ta! ta!
"You're up in five", came the voice of an instructor.
He didn't answer.
Across the hallway, cheers echoed from the arena.
The crowd wanted blood. And more than that they wanted a victor.
A symbol.
They wanted Jacob.
Kalen rose slowly, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.
He first seen his hair; dark as midnight, ruffled.
He scanned lower.
The eyes that looked back at him weren't quite his own....
They were too alive.
-------
The light dimmed. Then surged.
A sweeping glare covered the battlefield in golden light.
Horns blared once; long and deep, like a funeral bell wrapped in ceremony.
Ayling's voice returned.
It was low.
Serious.
Poised.
"Ladies and gentlemen... our final match of the day."
The crowd leaned.
"Kalen Voss. Jacob Lacura."
No fancy introduction. No titles.
It was enough.
They didn't need them.
These were the names. The ones etched into whispers and predictions across every noble house. Every student app screen, every training yard from Eldris to the Frostveil plains.
The camera drones refocused, the lenses sharpening like the crowd's breath.
Kalen emerged first.
Slow. Steady.
Head lowered.
A silent walk across the stone.
But the way the crowd reacted; you'd think a beast emerged.
Whispers hissed like wind.
"He doesn't look right...." some wondered.
Whilst others just wanted to see them clash already.
In the observation room, instructors stood, arms crossed.
Some leaning forward.
Others already whispering.
Seris watched, her expression unreadable.
Torin folded his arms, brow tight.
Fayl clicked his tongue.
Then the second gate opened.
He emerged like a shadow stepping into light.
He walked like he owned the very floor.
Like Gravity obeyed him.
No cloak or flare.
A calm stride.
A faint smile.
Every camera turned to him.
"They say prodigies are born once in a generation," Ayling muttered. "Some say Jacob makes that feel like an understatement."
The stood opposite each-other.
A silence stretched.
Their eyes met.
Jacob's calm. Unbothered.
Kalen's....
It was time.
"Begin."
-------
'I can't feel my right arm properly'
The thought came quiet, unwelcome. Like a ripple under still water.
He flexed his finger, subtle that no one would notice.
Pain rain along his forearm.
'No. Focus'
He stared across the arena.
Jacob stood like nothing in the world could touch him.
That casual stance. The tilt of his head, the cold eyes.
He was waiting.
For what?
A mistake?
A moment of weakness?
Kalen had given him enough already.
His chest was tight. Breathing uneven. His ki was running hotter than usual.
No. Not hotter.
Unstable.
He'd tried to calm it.
Something was wrong.
'That poison...it's still in me'.
The flashback hit quick.
A few nights before. The dizziness. The haze. Waking up feeling like his spine snapped.
That taste of iron.
Who did it? Who tampered with him?
It didn't matter.
Jacob hadn't hesitated.
He'd taken the opportunity into the finals without breaking a sweat.
Kalen would give him reason to regret that.
All around, the crowd buzzed.
This wasn't typical cheers.
It was pressure.
He was all to familiar.
Curiosity.
The kind that wanted to see one of them fall.
'I'm not just fighting for pride... I'm fighting because I have to'.
Seris. His father. Jacob. His sister.
...He wouldn't let them see him fall.
He couldn't.
Absolutely couldn't.
They was all watching.
Kalen Voss would not crumble.
Never.
-------
The air hummed.
It felt like the whole world had stilled.
It had.
It was watching.
Kalen's eyes locked onto Jacob.
The crowd noise faded. Muffled.
His heartbeat rang louder.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! TH-!THUMP!
The pulse was wild, but Kalen focused on it.
Pulling his feet against the ground, digging into the arena floor.
Jacob's posture was effortless.
He was born for this.
His blue hair swept slightly with the wind.
Stance wide, ready to absorb every strike...
Or deliver with precision.
Kalen?
He was built on grit.
Heart.
The fire couldn't burn out, not now, not when it mattered most.
Enough people had tried.
Without warning, the air snapped - and then...
Chaos.
WHOOOSH!!!
Kalen surged forward, no hesitation. Slamming his fists down in a flurry, gravity impaling the ground underneath.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The ground was quaking.
His manipulation, although unstable, still was enough to crack the floor, propelling him.
Jacob?
He didn't move.
Raising his hand.
He met it with a force of his own..
BANGG!!!!
The two collided. Sparks flew as their ki clashed.
'This is it. This is the moment.'
The ground cracked. The sky howled.
Jumping backwards, Kalen's ki surged as his right foot swept beneath Jacob's.
Aiming to throw him off balance, Jacob simply stepped back.
Then shifted.
Using his own gravity manipulation, he spun around, twisting his body into a kick.
WHOOSH!
It shook the air as Kalen barely dodged.
His left leg bent awkwardly. A necessary evil to avoid the impact.
"Not bad," Jacob taunted, his smile thin.
Kalen gritted his teeth.
This is what he wanted.
The next series attacks came in a fury.
Jacob's hand moved with a gracefulness and fluidity, unbefitting of the arena's tension.
His steps were calculated, each movement more deliberate than the other.
More than anything...
He was making a point.
THUD!
CRACK!
Kalen dodged, pivoted, and struck with his own rhythm, but....
He was slipping.
WHOOSH!
'Faster...I need to be faster.'
It was then that it happened...
Jacob sent a line of fire at Kalen's chest.
The flames traversing the air, getting hotter, and hotter.
ZIP!
Kalen leapt sideways.
It was then, in that blank spot...Jacob's other hand shot out ice, cracking the air.
The formation of a jagged spear rippling in the air.
WHOOSH!!!
It was too fast.
The ice cut his shoulder, freezing it as it bit into his skin.
Pain.
This wasn't a fight for pride.
It was a fight for survival.
Kalen gasped, but he fought through the pain.
Looking up as he held his shoulder briefly...
Jacob was smiling.
A deep smile.
Every move was getting sharper. Faster.
There was no way Jacob would go easy.
And Kalen wouldn't have it another way.
'It won't be enough...' he thought.
He thought back to everything.
His father was watching. No emotion in his eye.
It even seemed he was watching Jacob more.
Seris was the same.
What else did Kalen have to lose?
He shook his arm.
Hands collecting Ki.
A vicious look on his face.