The locker room echoed with the crash of metal. Rui's fist slammed into a locker door, caving it in with a sharp dent. The clang reverberated through the empty space, followed by the sound of his ragged breathing. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his shirt clinging to his body.
"Damn it!" Rui shouted, striking his fist again, this time tearing the metal hinge off. The door crashed onto the floor. He paced back and forth like a caged animal, his hands trembling, his chest heaving with every strained breath.
The arena's roar still rang in his ears. Lian's name being shouted—over and over. The standing ovation. The way all of them had looked at him not as the strongest, not as the one destined to conquer—but as a defeated fool.
"Trapped… by him." Rui's teeth ground together as he muttered under his breath. "Me… beaten in front of everyone. By that nobody…" His nails dug into his palms until blood welled from the crescent cuts. He didn't care.
He recalled the sticky webbing around his throat, the tightening, the terror that had pulsed through his veins. It was not only the absence of air—it was the absence of control. Rui had always been the predator. Always the one others trembled at. But in that moment… he had been the prey.
The metal trash bin went flying as he kicked it across the room, sending bottles and scraps scattering.
"Pathetic," he spat at his reflection in the cracked mirror. "I'll never forget this. Never."
The door swung open with a creak. Rui froze, his chest rising and falling as Instructor Mei stepped inside. Her presence was calm, but her sharp eyes took in the wreckage—the dented lockers, the shattered mirror, the trashed bin.
"Rui," Mei's voice was firm, cutting through the tense air. "That's enough."
Rui did not turn to face her. He kept his glare on the shattered reflection before him. "What do you want?" he responded in a monotone voice, his tone laced with venom.
Mei crossed her arms, her expression severe. "You think destroying this room will change the outcome of that fight? You lost because you underestimated Lian. You fought blind. That's the truth."
Her words struck a nerve, but Rui refused to show it. He let out a sharp laugh, bitter and cold. "So what? You're here to lecture me now? Tell me to be a good little student and swallow my pride?" He finally turned, his eyes burning with defiance.
Mei's eyes didn't budge. "No. I'm here to remind you that you're not above this academy, Rui. You're not untouchable. If you keep going down this path, pushing people away, you'll destroy more than locker doors."
Rui's jaw tightened for a second. Something flickered behind his eyes, something raw, almost vulnerable. But it was gone in an instant. He shouldered Mei roughly and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.
"Spare your lectures," Rui told him over his shoulder without looking back. "I do not need your pity."
Mei did not attempt to stop him. She simply stood and watched him go, her expression unrevealing, though a flicker of concern lingered in her eyes.
Outside of the arena, Class 1-C had gathered around Lian. His victory was still all anyone could talk about, their classmates buzzing with excitement and pride.
"Lian! You were insane out there!" exclaimed one student, practically bouncing on his toes. "I thought Rui had you finished when he unloaded all those slashes on you, but you fought back at him!"
Another added, laughing. "That final chokehold—man, I've never seen Rui look so useless. He's never going to live that down."
Chen was leaning against the wall, casual, grinning as though he'd battled and triumphed himself. "Didn't I say? Lian doesn't get crushed. He's a long-game player, and Rui walked right into it." He waved at Lian, smirking. "Beautiful, man. You've gained my respect, bro."
Xia was more restrained, though her eyes never left Lian. She finally allowed herself a small smile, arms crossed loosely. "I knew you were holding back before. But I did not think you would use your webs in that way… defensive, offensive, and then to immobilize him. You have grown up."
Lian rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by the compliments. His face colored, and he gave a self-conscious smile. "I just… didn't want to lose. Not like that. Rui's tough, but I had to do what I could with what I had."
Chen chuckled. "You call that 'just'? That was a masterclass, my man. Rui's probably sulking in a corner somewhere."
Shen, who had been quiet until now, pushed his glasses up with a finger. "You deserve the praise, Lian. But don't get complacent. Rui won't forget this. If anything, you've painted a target on your back."
The words sobered the group, but Lian nodded firmly. "I know. I'll be ready."
As the excitement settled, the announcer's voice boomed, pulling the crowd back to attention.
"And now, the final quarterfinal fight! Yan Luo of Class 3-A versus Wei Zhang of Class 3-B!"
The arena vibrated with anticipation. These were two veterans—seniors with reputations preceding them. Even the most raucous onlookers quieted as the two stepped into the ring.
Yan Luo was tall and imposing, his presence commanding respect. His Qi manifested in shadow manipulation—dark tendrils moved lazily around his feet, writhing like smoke. His expression was calm, unreadable.
Wei Zhang shrugged his shoulders across from him, a confident smirk on his face. His Qi was strength enhancement, his muscles coiled like wound steel. He cracked his knuckles, the sounds echoing out through the arena.
The referee signaled the start.
Wei launched forward instantly, his speed shocking for someone his size. He swung a fist, the force behind it strong enough to crater the ground if it landed.
But Yan Luo slid back, the shadows at his feet expanding like a pool of ink. Tendrils of darkness shot upward, wrapping around Wei's arm before the punch could connect.
The crowd collectively gasped as Wei was yanked off-balance, his momentum severed.
"Hmph," Yan Luo snorted, his tone peaceful. His wrist jerked, and the shadows tossed Wei across the ring like a rag doll.
Wei skidded but rolled to his feet, grinning despite the impact. "Not bad, shadow boy. But it's going to take more than strings to stop me!"
He tightened his fists, the ground shattering beneath him as his form surged with enhanced strength. When he charged this time, he exploded through the shadows constricting him like brute force. Tendrils tore like paper.
Yan Luo's eyes slightly narrowed. He shifted, summoning denser, more jagged tendrils, stabbing them like spears. Wei blocked some, but one raked across his shoulder, drawing blood.
Back and forth they went—Wei using brute force, Yan Luo countering with control and precision. Every impact shook the arena, every blow creating ripples of tension among the spectators.
"Come on, Wei!" a spectator shouted from the stands. "Crush him!"
"No way—Yan Luo's got this! He's unreadable!" another person protested.
In section 1-C, Chen leaned forward, captivated. "These guys are monsters. Just watch that exchange."
Lian nodded, observing the fight with rapt attention. "It's like two completely different philosophies… crushing power and absolute control. "
The fight continued until Wei, battered but not broken, surged forward for a finishing strike. His fist blazed with his Qi, muscles straining as he roared and descended like a hammer.
But Yan Luo's shadows erupted upwards, a massive spire that wrapped around Wei like a snake. Wei had not even had the time to finish his punch before he was bound, shadows constricting until he dropped to one knee.
The referee raised his hand. "Winner—Yan Luo of Class 3-A!"
The crowd erupted, cheers echoing as Yan Luo calmly released his shadows. He didn't gloat or celebrate, only bowed his head slightly before exiting the ring.
Wei cursed under his breath, pounding the ground in frustration, but managed a grin as he was escorted out. "Next time… I'll smash you."
The arena buzzed with excitement—the quarterfinals were done. Eight had become four.
But in the midst of the cheers, Rui's absence weighed like a shadow. And Lian, despite the praise, knew his greatest challenges still lay ahead.