The coliseum hummed with a different energy that morning.
Yesterday, the boy named Orin had turned the tournament into a circus. The crowd had laughed, jeered, and then roared when he blasted Garrek the Iron Fist clear out of the ring. Now, whispers filled the air.
"Was it luck?"
"No, did you see that shockwave? That wasn't luck."
"He's just a brat. Against a real martial artist, he'll crumble."
The announcer's voice cut through the noise. "Second Round, adult division! Sir Kael of the Spear… versus… Orin of Riverbend!"
The gates clanged open. From one side stepped Kael. Tall, lean, clad in light leather, a spear balanced perfectly in his hand. His eyes were calm, measured, like still water. He bowed lightly to the crowd. Respect answered him in kind—cheers, claps, nods.
From the opposite gate, Orin jogged out, arms waving. "HELLO AGAIN, CITY! YOUR FUTURE HUSBAND IS BACK!"
The reaction was mixed. Half the stands booed, half laughed, and a few leaned forward with narrowed eyes, remembering the boy's power yesterday.
High above, on the balcony, Mayor Veyra leaned against the railing. His daughter Yullan sat beside him, silver hair gleaming under the sun. She rested her chin against her knuckles, eyes sharp as emerald glass, watching the boy.
Kael raised his spear in salute, stance flawless. "Show me your spirit, child."
Orin tilted his head, grinning. "Neat stick. Mine's better."
The crowd laughed, but softer this time.
CLANG. The bell rang.
Kael moved first. His spear lunged forward, a blur of precision. Orin tried to block with his bare arm—CRACK—the shaft smacked across his forearm, sending him sprawling to the sand.
Dust flew.
The crowd chuckled. "He's done already!"
"That's what happens against training!"
Orin rolled, coughed, then pushed himself up with a grin. "Alright… let's dance for real."
He reached to his hip and pulled it free.
It was long, nearly as tall as him, carved from darkwood so old it seemed to drink the light. Strange etchings lined its surface, faint and almost invisible. But as Orin spun it lazily once, the crowd went quiet.
Blue sparks flickered along the grooves. The runes pulsed, glowing faint gold mixed with deep electric blue.
Gasps rippled.
"What is that?"
"That's no ordinary staff."
From his seat, Code's eyes narrowed. Finally, he's using it.
Orin rested the staff across his shoulders, arms draped. His grin widened. "This one's family."
Kael's eyes hardened. He twirled his spear once, aura flaring at its tip, then lunged.
WHISTLE—THRUST!
The spear darted like lightning.
Orin swung his staff, clumsy at first, barely deflecting the blow. The vibration stung his arms. Kael followed up with a sweeping strike, spinning the spear low. It cracked against Orin's shin, making him stumble.
The crowd cheered Kael's control. "That's real martial arts!"
Orin hissed, rubbing his leg, then laughed. "Ow. You're good. But I'm better at being dumb!"
He twirled his staff wildly, movements erratic. At first glance, it looked like play. But slowly, his rhythm settled—Breath Control syncing, feet digging deep.
Kael thrust again. Orin sidestepped, staff smacking the spear aside, then whipped the other end forward—THUMP!—into Kael's ribs.
The soldier staggered back, eyes widening.
The crowd gasped. "He hit him! He actually hit him!"
Kael gritted his teeth, aura wrapping tighter around his spear. He spun it, slicing the air, thin trails of dust splitting from the tip. Then he advanced, thrust after thrust, like rain falling fast.
Orin's grin didn't falter. He inhaled, exhaled. Eyes locked on the pattern.
Thrust—retract—half-second opening.
He dodged, barely, sand scraping his cheek. Staff shot up, smacking the shaft aside, then slammed down on Kael's knee.
Kael faltered. Orin stepped in, staff whirling, striking twice across the chest and ribs. Each blow cracked like wood snapping.
The arena roared.
"He's learning! He's adapting!"
"That brat is reading him!"
Orin laughed, bouncing back. "Nice stick fight! But mine bites harder!"
Even Kael allowed himself a faint smile. "Impressive."
Kael spun his spear, aura surging, the tip glowing white-blue. With a shout, he lunged, a thrust meant to finish it.
Orin sprinted forward instead of dodging. His foot slammed onto the shaft—CRACK. The spear bent under his weight.
Slow-motion: the crowd's eyes widened as Orin ran up the shaft like a ladder, flipping into the air above Kael.
The staff in his hands pulsed, the runes blazing with blue-gold sparks.
"BEAST DRAGON BURST—STAFF TAP!"
He brought the staff down on Kael's chest.
BOOOOOOM.
A shockwave exploded, dust flying. Kael's body slammed into the ground, spear clattering away.
Silence.
Then the coliseum erupted.
"Unbelievable!"
"He took down a trained soldier!"
"That's not luck—that's talent!"
Orin landed lightly, staff across his shoulders, grin manic. He pumped his fist. "ROUND TWO! FUTURE HUSBAND, STILL WINNING!"
The crowd laughed, but this time it wasn't mockery—it was admiration.
Kael groaned, sitting up slowly, clutching his chest. He looked at Orin, then bowed his head once in respect before medics led him away.
High above, Yullan leaned forward, emerald eyes sharp, lips curving into a small smile. A faint blush colored her cheeks. She whispered softly, "So the wild boy can fight like a man."
Mayor Veyra's brows furrowed, jaw tight. He turned to his aide. "Keep eyes on him. That boy… he could be dangerous."
Code exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk on his lips. He's starting to understand.