The First Round
"Before we begin, declare your innate abilities," Mr. Han commanded, his voice echoing over the public address system.
Kendrick stepped forward onto the arena floor, cracking his knuckles. "I produce thorns from my skin," he announced proudly to the crowded stands. "Every hit I land strikes harder than the last, building a multiplier unless you break my combo. I have a hard limit of one hundred thorns, plus one diamond-grade spike I save for emergencies. I am also an expert in hand-to-hand combat."
Wayne stood across from him in his usual slouch, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He stared at Kendrick with absolute vacancy.
Kendrick's brow furrowed. "Well? What's your power?"
Wayne stared back for five long seconds. "Some math shit."
Mr. Han sighed heavily, adjusting his crooked glasses. "Very well. Begin."
Kendrick immediately started bouncing on the balls of his feet, genuinely hyping himself up as he prepared to initiate his attack sequences. Wayne looked around the crowded arena, wondering if he really had to go through with the effort.
Kendrick lunged, a spike erupting from his shoulder.
Wayne put his hands straight up in the air. "I surrender."
The crowd went completely quiet. Then, the confusion curdled into noise, a wave of scattered boos and irritated murmuring rippling through the stands.
Mr. Han blinked, cleared his throat, and raised a hand. "Winner by forfeit: Kendrick."
Wayne turned and walked off the arena floor without looking back once. In the staging area, Damien watched him go, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
The Rhythm Match
"Next match," Mr. Han's voice carried over the settling crowd. "Damien Frost versus Mantis."
The murmuring intensified immediately.
Damien stepped onto the marked stone perimeter. Across from him, Mantis rolled his shoulders like he was warming up for an entirely casual exercise. Mantis grinned, locked eyes with Damien, and snapped his fingers.
A floating mechanical speaker materialized in the air beside his shoulder. Low bass hummed through the arena before the track even initialized.
Alex leaned forward from the front row, her brow furrowing. "Is he allowed to bring audio equipment into a regulated match?"
The beat dropped. It was low, heavy, and deliberately measured.
Mantis was already moving, every stride perfectly locked into the syncopated rhythm like it was the only natural way to occupy space.
Mr. Han raised a hand toward them. "Declare your innate abilities."
"Rhythm control," Mantis said, his eyes fixed on Damien. "Close-range inevitability."
Damien considered his response for a brief second. "I constantly draw in energy."
Alex blinked. "That's all he's going to declare?"
Wayne scoffed from the sidelines, leaning his back against the concrete wall. "It's just a show-off way of saying he doesn't get tired."
Alex turned her head. "What do you mean?"
Wayne kept his eyes locked on the arena. "Positive energy isn't standard stamina. It's quality. Potency. Think of it like a specialized fuel type. Everyone else has a fixed tank, but Damien is constantly leaking fresh fuel in while he burns it."
Alex's eyes went slightly wide. "So he can just keep going?"
"Yeah," Wayne muttered, his voice dropping. "That's the scary part."
The Tempo
The music swelled through the stadium speakers.
Mantis moved first. Damien stepped in to counter, but his body moved a half-step too early. Mantis slipped the guard smoothly, his elbow driving hard into Damien's ribs. It was a clean, resonant impact.
The crowd gasped.
Mantis laughed, spinning on his heel. "As long as you're close, you dance with me."
Water spiraled up Mantis's forearms, coating each subsequent strike. Punch after punch landed with immense weight and mechanical precision, entirely guided by a rhythm Damien couldn't fully resist. Damien slid back across the stone, his boots scraping against the dust.
He advanced again, testing the perimeter. Mantis unleashed a spinning kick, the water snapping like a whip against Damien's guard. Damien stumbled but didn't fall. He didn't launch a counter-attack either. He simply let the sequence happen, absorbing the data.
Alex frowned, her posture rigid. "Why isn't he fighting back?"
Wayne's jaw tightened. "He's listening."
Mantis raised both hands, the water along his arms surging higher as the bass deepened. "Let's turn it up."
The beat sharpened, transitioning into a faster, more aggressive tempo. Mantis pressed harder, unleashing a flurry of kicks, elbows, and palm strikes, every movement mathematically placed to force Damien into the path of the next blow. Frost cracked and shattered off Damien's heavy coat under the rapid impacts.
Yet, Damien didn't rush. The air directly surrounding his silhouette began to shift, quiet at first. The localized moisture thickened into a dense fog. The wind curled unnaturally close to his skin.
Mantis noticed the pressure change. "You think scaling up your volume helps?"
"No," Damien said, his voice flat. "I just wanted to see how far your track would go."
Damien raised his left hand. The arena temperature plummeted instantly.
Water surged outward from his position, not in an explosive burst, but as an overwhelming, rolling mass that pushed Mantis back despite his rhythmic footing. Mantis skidded across the stone, his boots barely maintaining traction.
Damien took a single step forward. The rhythm of the speaker stuttered, strained but not yet broken.
Mantis snarled and snapped his fingers sharply. The floating speaker glitched. The song changed entirely, turning faster, erratic, and deliberately broken to disrupt any adaptation. He lunged, water blades forming along his forearms like glass shards.
Damien blocked the initial strike, then pushed. Wind detonated outward from his palm, just enough to disrupt Mantis's timing by a fraction of a second.
Mantis took the kinetic hit directly to the chest, sliding back hard across the shattered ring. The crowd erupted into shouts.
Damien didn't chase him down. He stood perfectly still, letting the Positive Energy build in his center. The water surrounding Mantis's boots froze mid-motion, locking his feet to the stone.
One step. One punch.
The floating speaker cracked under the sudden pressure wave. The music cut to absolute silence.
Mantis dropped to one knee, breathing heavily as the ice held him fast. "You waited," he panted.
"You needed to feel in control first," Damien replied.
The stadium fell into a dead hush.
Mr. Han raised his hand toward the victor. "Winner: Damien Frost."
Damien exhaled slowly, a thin plume of frost lifting from his shoulders as his aura dissipated. He glanced toward the stands. Wayne didn't cheer, but he nodded once from the shadows.
Alex watched Damien from her seat, her expression neither impressed nor inspired. She looked entirely concerned.