The stadium roared deafeningly as the announcer's voice thundered beneath the dome.
"Quarterfinals—first match! Huo Tian versus Gao Ming!"
Banners waved madly as the crowd went wild, anticipation crackling like static in the air. The two third-years stepped into the arena, their presence heavy with experience.
Gao Ming, big and broad, rolled his neck, the ground trembling imperceptibly beneath his feet. His Qi vibrated with the solidity of mountains, each step promising earthquake strength. Huo Tian, lean and narrow-eyed, snapped his fingers, sparks dancing across his knuckles before bursting into flame that lapped up his arms. His very presence rippled with devastating heat.
The referee nodded.
The ground burst apart in a split second. Gao Ming slammed his palm onto the earth, and spiked walls of stone surged upwards, rolling outward like tidal waves. Huo Tian did not evade—he burst upwards, flames jetting from his feet, arcing over the arena like a rocket. Flames coalesced into a roaring serpent, coiling around his body before lashing at Gao Ming.
The serpent crashed into a wall of dirt Gao Ming had conjured in front of him. The flames screamed, tearing the stone apart, and Gao Ming's dark grin grew wider. He drove both fists down, exploding his wall into shards that shot upward like meteors.
Huo Tian spun in the air, flames jetting from his hands and feet, weaving through the storm. His body blurred, each evasion punctuated by bursts of fire. Then he unleashed a column of fire, a burning shaft of flame that cut down cleanly.
The ground split open as Gao Ming took the hit straight on, his form wreathed. Stillness for a moment. The ground heaved, then Gao Ming pulled himself out of the crater, his body encased in stone, skin warmly radiant with trapped heat. He roared, stamping once. The entire arena trembled. Spires erupted under Huo Tian, lifting him up, interfering with his flight.
Not bad!" Huo Tian shouted, sweating on the brow as he channeled Qi into his final attack. His body spun around, fire gathering into a ball of white heat in his hands. He hurled it downwards like a miniature sun.
Gao Ming braced himself, arms crossed, rocks accumulating around him. The blast swept the field, heat washing over the entire stadium. When the smoke cleared, Gao Ming stood, scarred but steadfast, fists still raised.
"Winner—Gao Ming!" the judge declared.
Applause thundered, the two combatants struggling for air. Huo Tian staggered, weak smile on his face despite defeat. "Guess the mountain's harder than fire."
Gao Ming simply nodded respectfully to him.
"Second quarterfinal! Bai Xuan versus Lin Shu!"
A collective breath of excited anticipation quieted the crowd. This battle had been whispered about for days—deadly precision blade versus ruinous telekinesis.
Bai Xuan stepped into the arena with ease, her dark braid swaying. Her eyes were sharp, hands tense with poised elegance. Qi swirled subtly around her as she flexed her fingers, the air condensing like invisible hands pushing outward.
Across from her, Lin Shu drew twin short swords, steel flashing under the lights. His stance was knife-straight, muscles coiled like a spring.
The signal flashed.
Lin Shu struck first, his swords tracing silver arcs. Every strike was fast, precise, slashing in impossible angles. But none of them got through—affect every time, Bai Xuan's unseen force pushed, bending the path of his swords mere inches away.
Her retaliation was immediate and brutal. The air warped, a dense pressure crushing down. Lin Shu's knees collapsed under the sudden invisible pressure, his swords scraping out sparks as they struck the ground.
He gritted his teeth, Qi bursting. His swords buzzed, glowing faintly as he channeled energy into them. With a roar, he swung upwards, cutting through the pressure by main force, creating a vacuum slash that ripped forward in her direction.
Bai Xuan stumbled back, her telekinetic shield straining, but she refused to yield. She thrust her hand out, and an invisible shockwave slammed forward. Lin Shu spun, crossing both blades, and the shockwave hit the barrier he created, sending him stumbling backward several meters but not destroying him.
The fight raged on. Lin Shu weaved in and out like a storm, swords leaving trails too fast for the eye, every movement infused with precise Qi control. Bai Xuan retaliated with merciless waves of overwhelming force, bending earth, twisting air, making the stone shrapnel burst forth like ammunition.
Sweat beaded on Lin Shu's face, his lungs burning. Still, he pressed on, fighting through her defenses. He gained ground—finally—and struck with his blades at her chest.
The crowd inhaled in unison—then her energy burst forth. An invisible wall slammed into him point-blank, halting him inches away. His eyes widened before he flew backward, rolling across the arena until he landed in a stop, blades clattering away.
Panting, Bai Xuan let her hand fall. "Precision is praiseworthy," she said, voice steady despite exhaustion, "but pressure breaks even the best edge."
The referee raised her hand. "Winner—Bai Xuan!"
The arena roared again, her classmates shouting in approval as she bowed respectfully to Lin Shu. He bowed in return, chest heaving, pride wounded but unbroken.
In the instructors' stands, tension hummed just as palpable.
You expect me to believe this is coincidence?" growled Instructor Hong, homeroom teacher of the 2nd-year hero course, his thinning features twisted in accusation. "All the brackets just happen to set your precious little 1st-years onto good paths. Even when they're matched against seniors, they're not actually fighting the real monsters until the later rounds. Rigged from the start.".
Instructor Mei's eyes narrowed, her arms folded tightly. "You insult the academy itself by suggesting that. The brackets are randomized and overseen by the Headmaster."
Hong scoffed. "Randomized? Please. That web-slinger of yours and his lightning friend have been given opportunities no one else would dream of."
Mei's tone dropped to a murderous calm. "They fought every step. You believe luck got them this far, you're blind. Rui, Lian, Xia—they fought tooth and nail, just like any senior. You want to claim it's rigged because my students aren't rolling over? That's the sound of fear.
Hong's fists clenched, but Mei's gaze silenced him before he could lash out again.
Below in the preparation hall beneath the stadium, footsteps echoed in unison.
Lian Feng stepped towards the tunnel, fists tight at his sides, danger sense thrumming in anticipation. Across from him, from another passageway, Jin Rui stepped, arms loose at his sides, the muted shine of compressed air already whispering around him like blades ready for the unsheathing.
Their eyes met for the first time since Xia's fall.
No words. No need.
The crowd overhead was already chanting, the air thick with anticipation. Their expected fight was next.