Ryo walked to the center of the arena, his steps slow but steady, meeting Peng Fu's at the midpoint.
Our eyes locked.
Why him? Ryo thought. It's one thing to fight a meathead—but a talented one…
Peng Fu grinned wide, his canines flashing like fangs beneath the morning light. His eyes gleamed with cruelty.
"It is your honour to face me. Be grateful," he sneered. "I enjoy crushing feathered insects."
What does that even mean? Ryo's face remained passive, but inside, his stomach twisted, his nerves sparking like a flint struck repeatedly. A storm churned within—a lifeless calm masking a boiling core.
"START!" the instructor barked.
Peng Fu stomped the ground.
"Earth Spikes."
The ground cracked with a violent boom, and jagged spikes shot toward Ryo, slithering like a serpent made of stone. Ryo sidestepped, barely evading. A spike grazed his thigh, drawing blood.
Before he could recover, Peng Fu was already on him.
Each of Peng Fu's steps shattered the ground beneath. He closed the distance in a blink and slammed his fist into Ryo's chest.
CRACK.
The impact hurled Ryo backwards. He stumbled, coughing blood midair, his body skidding through the dirt.
Peng Fu's laughter rang out. "What's wrong? Can't land your stinger?"
Ryo lifted his arm, swiping sideways. A sudden wind gale burst toward Peng Fu.
Peng Fu ducked, sidestepped cleanly, then closed in again. With a wide step, he launched an overhand blow.
CRACK.
Ryo's front teeth shattered. His face snapped sideways and slammed into the dirt. Dazed, vision flickering, the sound of cheering echoed in a distant, distorted way.
"Haha! See that?" someone shouted from the crowd. "Luck doesn't make you strong!"
"You were always trash!"
Ryo coughed and spat a thick mix of blood and grit—straight into Peng Fu's eyes.
"What the—!" Peng Fu recoiled, rubbing at his face.
Ryo surged up and landed two punches to Peng Fu's jaw—short, snapping blows. Then, with a sly grin, he summoned a wind gale aimed low—right at Peng Fu's groin.
Peng Fu instinctively dropped his hands in panic.
Ryo's grin widened.
Boom. A compressed wind bullet shot from his fingers and aimed at Peng Fu's exposed neck.
Peng Fu snarled, slamming his palm into the ground. A thick wall of earth erupted between them.
Thwip—CRACK.
The wind strike punched halfway through the wall, slicing deep.
Ryo ran forward, not stopping.
I can't win conventionally... so I won't.
"Move forward!"
He blasted compressed air from the soles of his feet—launching himself skyward. Over the wall, he arced, then flipped downward—two more wind gales howled from above.
Peng Fu raised his arms, bracing against the blasts.
Ryo hit the ground rolling, came up behind him, and punched Peng Fu's head, smashing it into the very wall he created.
Peng Fu roared and spun.
WHACK. A brutal backfist crashed into Ryo's face, his jaw cracking audibly.
"HOW DARE YOU, MONGREL!"
Ryo stumbled back, teeth scattering from his mouth. He spat two out and lunged.
CRACK.
Their foreheads collided. Both reeled from the brutal headbutt, dazed.
Peng Fu recovered first and palm-struck Ryo square in the chest. The impact forced a cough from Ryo, but he rose again.
"Ugh… I thought you'd hit harder," Ryo wheezed.
"You say that… on your knees. Your kind has no place among the clans."
Cheers erupted from the students.
"Crush him!"
"Break his bones!"
"Make his ancestors weep!"
Ryo's thoughts drifted—the smell of burnt wood, the sound of screams. He remembered when the tribes raided their outskirts. His grandparents, butchered. His mother's cries. His father begging for help, kneeling before minor clans. They'd laughed.
They blamed them for being weak.
They mocked their name.
They let them die.
Not again.
"I promised myself… we'd never kneel again."
Peng Fu lunged, hand reaching for Ryo's throat.
Ryo's eyes flared—raw, burning rage. He leaned back—spine scraping dirt—narrowly avoiding Peng Fu's grip. Two air arrows materialized in that breathless moment—schlunk!—impaling Peng Fu's shoulders.
"AGH!!" Peng Fu screamed, stumbling back.
Blood ran freely down his arms.
Ryo rose slowly, his gaze locked onto Peng Fu's.
For the first time, Peng Fu froze.
The rage in Ryo's eyes wasn't just fury—it was something more primal. A cornered beast, that had grown claws.
In the crowd, Lutiana's master narrowed his eyes.
"He mimicked someone else's technique... already? Fascinating."
Peng Fu ripped one arrow free with a grunt, then lunged again.
But before he could strike—
Jiang Lu's palm caught Ryo's wrist.
A swirling sphere of compressed air hovered just inches from Peng Fu's neck, a breath away from peircing the jugular.
Silence.
The arena held its breath.