I stood in the competitor viewing area, arms crossed tightly, eyes fixed on the arena floor where medical staff were still fussing over both fighters like mother hens. My hands clenched unconsciously, nails digging into my palms hard enough to leave crescent marks.
That absolute bastard...
The fight between him and Raven had been absolutely spectacular. No—more than spectacular. It had been the kind of battle that redefined what first-year students should even be capable of achieving. Two fighters pushing each other to absolute limits without holding anything back.
When he'd shouted at Raven to stop holding back, when she'd unleashed that Corrupted Thunder Art and literally painted the entire sky black with her overwhelming power, I'd felt my blood sing with recognition.
That's it. THAT'S the competitive fire I remember from childhood.
The clash of their ultimate techniques—heaven and earth, thunder and darkness colliding with enough apocalyptic force to crack protective barriers designed to withstand S-rank attacks—had been genuinely breathtaking to witness.
And when Raven had finally been overwhelmed, when that figure had caught her mid-fall in what had to be the most dramatic princess carry I'd ever seen in my life...
The realization had hit me like a physical blow.
Show-off, I thought, but couldn't suppress the manic grin spreading across my face. Dramatic bastard. But I have to admit... that was pretty FUCKING cool.
"Yan...!" His name had escaped my lips before I could stop it, my voice louder than intended.
My heart was racing. Not with attraction—gods no, that would be fucking weird on multiple levels. But with pure, undiluted competitive spirit. The burning urge to fight him again immediately, to test myself against this version of him that had finally—finally—reclaimed the strength and pride he'd abandoned years ago like garbage.
He'd actually done it. Transformed himself from complete disgrace back into someone genuinely worthy of the title Asura Prince.
The entire continent would be talking about this for months, maybe years
My battle instincts were screaming at me with almost painful intensity. I wanted to march down there right now, grab him by the collar, and demand a rematch while we were both still high on adrenaline.
The expression on my face must have been intense—I could feel my features twisted into what Livia once called my "crazy battle maniac look." Eyes too wide, grin too sharp, the kind of expression that made normal people back away slowly while maintaining eye contact.
But it was perfectly normal to feel this way, wasn't it? This was what rivalry was supposed to feel like! This burning desire to compete, to test limits, to prove yourself against someone who pushed you to evolve beyond your current capabilities!
My rival is BACK, I thought with fierce satisfaction that made my whole body feel electric. And now the real competition begins!
I was born into greatness—literally, not metaphorically.
As the only daughter of the Asura Emperor and Asura Empress, the sole Asura Princess of the Mairis Family, I'd carried the weight of our bloodline's entire legacy from my first breath. Pure-blooded Asura were incredibly rare—in the entire world, only four of us existed: my father, my mother, my aunt, and myself.
This wasn't just heritage or family pride. It was responsibility. Every single action I took reflected on our entire race, on centuries of tradition and power that couldn't be allowed to fade into obscurity.
My aunt had married a human—Uncle Cris Descartes. Their union had produced twins: Riyan and Livia. Hybrids, carrying both Asura and human blood in their veins in roughly equal measure.
Normally, hybrids leaned more heavily toward one parent's bloodline or the other. Predictable genetic dominance.
But Riyan had been different from birth, an anomaly that had fascinated even my father.
He possessed all the Asura characteristics—the fire affinity, the distinctive features, the raw potential that marked our race as apex predators. But he'd also inherited human adaptability and something even rarer: the Dual Energy User trait that let him manipulate both mana and aura simultaneously.
An anomaly. A perfect fusion of two bloodlines that shouldn't have combined so seamlessly according to every genetic theory we had.
My father had been genuinely impressed. Impressed enough to accept Riyan as his godson and grant him the prestigious title of Asura Prince—a designation that carried immense weight in our culture and couldn't be given lightly.
Livia, meanwhile, had inherited more human traits. Aura instead of mana, ice affinity instead of fire. She'd been given the title of Miss of Mairis Family as recognition, but the Asura Prince designation had gone specifically to her brother.
Which made Riyan my godbrother, my cousin, and—in the way that mattered most to me personally—my rival.
My father had this irritating habit of comparing us constantly.
"Ava, your fire control needs significant work."
"Why can't you maintain focus like Riyan does during meditation sessions?"
"Your cousin completed this training exercise in half the time. What's taking you so long?"
It had been absolutely maddening. Every single accomplishment I achieved was immediately measured against his. Every technique I mastered was compared to his version. I couldn't escape his shadow no matter how hard I trained or how much I pushed myself.
So naturally, we'd developed an intense rivalry that defined both our childhoods.
Our duels had been legendary among family members who'd watch with genuine excitement. Both of us pushing our limits constantly, neither willing to yield even an inch of ground. He'd been stronger more often than not—frustratingly so—but I'd won my fair share of victories too.
I'd respected him. Genuinely respected him as a rival who made me better through competition. Someone who embodied the Asura spirit of never backing down, never accepting weakness, always striving for greater heights.
If anyone deserved the title of Asura Prince, it was Riyan. I'd believed that with absolute certainty.
Until the day his father died.
Uncle Cris's death had shattered something fundamental in Riyan. The competitive fire that had burned so bright just... went out. Like someone had snuffed a candle, leaving only smoke and the faint smell of what used to be.
He'd stopped training seriously. Stopped pushing himself beyond comfortable limits. Stopped acting like someone who carried the weight of two great families on his shoulders.
Instead, he'd become obsessed with some random girl from the Starlight family.
At first, I'd thought it was just grief—clinging desperately to anything that felt stable during a chaotic period. But it hadn't stopped after the initial mourning period. If anything, it had gotten progressively worse.
He'd followed her around like a lost puppy desperate for affection. Made increasingly pathetic declarations of love that made everyone uncomfortable. Molded himself into whatever he thought she wanted, abandoning his own identity completely in the process.
The mockery had started quickly among our social circles. "Dog-licker." "Simp." Eventually, "King of Dog Lickers"—a title that spread like wildfire, turning the name Riyan Descartes into a continental punchline.
And I'd watched, horrified and disgusted, as my rival—the person who'd pushed me to be better, who'd embodied Asura pride and strength—degraded himself for scraps of attention from someone who clearly wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
Disgrace. That was the word that kept echoing in my mind. Disgrace to the Asura bloodline. Shame to the Mairis family. Not worthy of the title Asura Prince anymore.
My respect had curdled into complete disdain. I'd stopped seeing him as a rival and started seeing him as... nothing. A disappointment. A cautionary tale about what happened when you abandoned your pride for unrequited feelings.
The cute, pouty, arrogant boy who'd challenged me to duels and laughed when he won had been replaced by this pathetic stranger I couldn't recognize.
I'd even told my father as much, argued passionately that the title should be revoked immediately. He'd refused stubbornly, insisting there was still hope for Riyan to recover his former self.
I'd thought he was being overly sentimental. That the old man couldn't accept that his beloved godson had become worthless.
Turned out I'd been completely wrong.
When Riyan turned fifteen, something changed dramatically.
I'd heard he'd entered the cooking influencer industry—another desperate attempt to impress that Starlight girl, I'd assumed cynically. More pathetic behavior from someone who'd forgotten what dignity meant.
But then his career had exploded beyond anyone's expectations. Within months, his face was everywhere—advertisements, social media trending constantly, sponsorship deals rolling in. And more importantly, his entire demeanor had transformed completely.
The content I'd reluctantly watched showed someone confident, self-possessed, articulate, and genuinely skilled. Someone who spoke about building a career for its own sake rather than seeking validation from specific people. Someone who'd finally remembered what self-respect looked like.
The mockery had faded gradually. The "dog-licker" jokes had been replaced with genuine admiration from people who'd previously ridiculed him. His transformation had become this redemption story people told with actual respect.
I'd thought at the time: This idiot is finally getting some sense back.
But I'd still been skeptical about whether it was real. Cooking was one thing—combat was entirely another. Had he truly reclaimed his strength? Or was this just a different mask, a more sophisticated way of hiding continued weakness?
Then the entrance exam had happened. Some mysterious fighter had appeared, shattering records and defeating opponents with techniques that spoke of serious training and genuine skill.
When he'd beaten me—when I'd given absolutely everything I had and still fallen short—I'd felt that old competitive fire reignite like someone had poured gasoline on dying embers. Not anger at losing, but excitement. Finally, someone who could push me again! Finally, a real challenge that made my blood sing!
And now I knew who it had been all along.
Damn him, I thought, grinning so wide my face hurt. Damn him for making me wait this long. Damn him for that dramatic reveal. And damn him for being good enough to actually beat me fairly.
But mostly: Welcome BACK, rival. It's been way too fucking long.
Tomorrow, classes would start. Tomorrow, I'd corner him somewhere and demand answers about where he'd been training, how he'd developed those techniques, what his plans were for improving further.
And soon—very soon—I'd challenge him to a proper rematch. One where we both knew exactly who we were fighting, where neither of us held anything back for strategic purposes.
The Asura Princess versus the Asura Prince. The way it should have been all along, the way it was meant to be from the beginning.
Just you wait, Riyan, I thought, still wearing that battle-crazy grin that made normal people deeply uncomfortable. I'm going to get SO much stronger. And next time we fight, I'm taking you DOWN.
My hands were shaking slightly—not from fear, but from pure anticipation. The kind of trembling excitement that came before a fight you knew would push you beyond your current limits.
I could already feel my mind racing, analyzing our previous fight, identifying weaknesses in my technique, planning training regimens that would close the gap between us.
He'd beaten me this time. Fine. Acceptable. Even admirable, given how far he'd fallen and how high he'd climbed back.
But it wouldn't happen again.
Next time, I'd be ready. Next time, I'd have evolved. Next time, the Asura Princess would reclaim her position above the Asura Prince and restore the proper order of things.
Looking down at the arena one last time before leaving, I saw Riyan being helped to his feet by medical staff, still looking exhausted but satisfied with his victory.
The old Riyan—the naive, innocent, pouty cute version from our childhood—had been replaced by someone more complex. Someone who could be warm and approachable but also ruthless and strategic when necessary. Someone who'd learned to play the long game instead of just charging forward with raw emotion.
That transformation fascinated me almost as much as it excited my competitive instincts.
What happened to you during those years? I wondered. What kind of training did you undergo? What changed inside you to make this possible?
I'd find out. I'd pry every detail from him, analyze his evolution, understand exactly what had forged this new version of my rival.
And then I'd surpass it.
Because that's what rivalry meant. Constant evolution. Constant competition. Never accepting that anyone could permanently stay ahead of you.
The Asura bloodline didn't produce people who gave up.
And I was the Asura Princess.
I turned away from the viewing area, heading toward the exit with quick, energetic steps. My whole body felt electric with anticipation for tomorrow, for the coming days, for the inevitable moment when we'd clash again.
Some people might have felt resentment at losing. Might have been bitter about being defeated by someone they'd written off as worthless.
But I felt alive.
Thank you, Riyan, I thought, grinning to myself like an absolute maniac. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for being strong again. Thank you for giving me a reason to push harder.
Because now I don't have to hold back anymore.
Now I can go absolutely wild.
The rivalry was back.
And the Asura Princess had never felt more ready to burn everything in her path to reach greater heights.
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.