The Princess rose with steady grace, her vivid red eyes locking onto Ceres. Flames danced within them—controlled, fierce, unwavering.
Macho Derrick studied her for a heartbeat before breaking into another booming laugh. His massive shoulders shook as he shrugged.
"Very well—"
But before he could finish, a gravelly voice cut through the air.
"Not so fast."
The words struck like a hammer, followed instantly by a thunderous crash that shook the arena. Dust billowed upward, rolling into a thick cloud before slowly dispersing.
From within it emerged a hulking silhouette—familiar, yet unfamiliar. The wine-colored blazer strained against his broad chest, the sleeves stretched tight around arms that looked like they were carved from stone. He wasn't as monstrous as Macho Derrick, but by academy standards—sixteen to eighteen-year-olds—he was massive.
