The waiting room was quiet — sterile walls, humming lights, the kind of silence only heard before something loud.
Kael sat on the bench near the far end, hands resting loosely on his knees, blade leaning against the wall. He wasn't watching the screen displaying the current match. His eyes were closed. Focused.
The door hissed open.
Footsteps. Calm, deliberate. Not the rushed stride of a coach or instructor.
"You should surrender."
Kael opened his eyes.
A student stood by the door — second-year crest on his uniform, hands tucked into his pockets, face unreadable. Dark hair, taller frame, older by a year or two.
"You're Kael, right? Navarro?"
Kael didn't respond.
The upperclassman stepped closer, stopping just out of arm's reach.
"Name's Rulik. I'm not here to pick a fight. But you need to listen."
Kael raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Rulik exhaled, glancing toward the arena feed. The countdown showed ten minutes remaining before the final match.
"Tairen Voss. I've seen what he does in there — not just to people's bodies, but to their heads."
He met Kael's gaze evenly.
"Last month, he was paired with a first-year. Kid named Emeric Tan. Rank B. Good fighter. Level-headed. Not soft."
Rulik's jaw clenched.
"Tairen didn't beat him — he broke him. Pushed so many echo-clones at him, so fast, Emeric started hallucinating. Screamed mid-fight. Thought he was being hunted. Instructors had to pull him out."
Kael didn't blink.
"He hasn't come back to class since," Rulik said. "Medical says he's fine. But the look in his eyes? Like he's still in the fight."
There was a long pause.
"And the Academy?" Rulik laughed once, cold and dry. "They won't stop it. He's an A-rank student. One of the best first-year combatants we've had. and possible S rank Ascenders. some Agencies and even WAA's watching him. Hell, I heard a Division recruiter already made a bid."
Kael stood slowly.
"Why tell me all this?"
Rulik shrugged. "Because you're not like the others. You don't chase attention. And maybe you don't know what you're walking into."
He took a step back.
"I'm telling you — if you step into that ring, don't expect fairness. Tairen doesn't play to win. He plays to ruin."
Kael picked up his blade, adjusting the bow strap across his back.
"Then I won't play either."
Rulik stared at him, then gave a slow nod.
"Just... hold onto yourself in there."
The door slid open behind him.
Kael was left alone once more — not shaken, not angry, just steady. His fingers curled once around the hilt of his weapon.
Five minutes to match start.
The lights in the tunnel to the arena flickered, then pulsed — as if echoing footsteps not yet taken.
The arena hadn't quieted since Levi's win. Students were still abuzz, cheering, analyzing, and replaying the match on their panels. But in the upper seats, just left of the announcer's platform, a more uneasy energy lingered.
David leaned forward over the railing, catching his breath. "Levi pulled that off with pure nerve."
Cyrhelle nodded, arms crossed. "He looked afraid at first... but he pushed through."
Charlotte's gaze flicked toward the far tunnel—the next entrance to the platform. Her brows pinched slightly.
"Kael didn't come back."
"He's up next, isn't he?" David asked.
Levi wasn't listening. He turned as two second-year students passed behind their row, speaking in hushed, excited tones.
"It's him next. Tairen Voss."
"No way. They're letting him fight again?"
"Didn't you hear what happened to the last guy? He's still in treatment. Couldn't even sleep without screaming for days."
Charlotte's attention snapped toward them. "What did you say?"
The students froze, realizing they were overheard.
"Sorry," one mumbled, shifting awkwardly. "Just... rumors. Voss doesn't just fight. He plays with your head. Echoform messes with emotions, memories. The guy's unhinged."
They moved on quickly, leaving the group in a sudden, heavier silence.
David looked between the others. "That true?"
Cyrhelle's voice was quiet. "I heard he's been pulled from matches before. They said he once triggered a panic attack in his opponent mid-fight. No injuries... but the student dropped out."
"Why let someone like that fight again?" Levi muttered.
Charlotte's jaw clenched. "Because he wins. Because they think his potential
makes it worth the risk."
and finally…
The lights dimmed.
The announcer's voice rang out.
"Final match of the Day:
"Kael Navarro versus Tairen Voss!"
The crowd erupted, some in cheers, some in nervous murmurs.
Tairen entered first.
He walked slowly into the center of the arena, posture loose, hands tucked in his pockets. His hair was unkempt, and a faint, crooked smile curled across his face — like he was already enjoying a joke no one else understood.
He stopped at the center, unmoving. The crowd's noise began to dull, tension wrapping around the stadium like a wire pulled tight.
The atmosphere shifted.
Then the lights dimmed.
The crowd leaned forward.
A single spotlight flared at the far gate — and out walked Kael Navarro.
No music. No theatrics. Just the steady sound of his boots across the floor.
And weapons. All kinds of them.
On his back — a black longbow, sleek and deadly.
At his left side hip — a sword with a worn grip, made for real fights, not ceremony.
Strapped to each leg — twin daggers, quick-draw and curved like fangs.
Around his waist — a coiled whip, resting like a lazy viper.
In his hand — a wooden polearm, plain-looking.
He looked like a walking arsenal. But nothing about it felt overdone.
The crowd murmured. Some tilted their heads in confusion.
"Damn," someone whispered in the crowd. "What's he planning to do with all that?"
"Isn't that overkill?"
"He's a C-rank, right?"
"Why the staff? He's already carrying half an armory."
But none of Kael's teammates spoke.
Charlotte, now seated beside Cyrhelle and Levi, watched with careful eyes.
David leaned forward slightly. "He's not carrying that many weapons for show."
Levi nodded once. "No. He's showing respect. To the fight — and the opponent."
Kael stepped into the hexagonal platform, weapon still in hand.
Tairen Voss smiled wide from the opposite side. He cracked his neck, then cracked his knuckles — never breaking eye contact.
Kael didn't flinch. He stood still.
He didn't glare. He didn't grin.
He just waited — calm, unreadable, like a mountain before the quake.
The crowd didn't know what to think. But something in the air shifted.
This wasn't just another sparring match.
This was Kael's fight.
The announcer's voice returned, but even his tone had dropped into something closer to reverence.
"Kael Navarro. Tairen Voss."
"Combatants, prepare. Begin on buzzer."
Kael shifted his wooden staff into a ready stance.
Tairen cracked his neck, bouncing once on his heels.
The buzzer hadn't sounded yet.
But the fight had already started — in the silence between them.