Jed sat quietly after his first match, his knuckles still faintly red from gripping too hard. His breathing was calm, but inside, his heart beat like war drums.
The crowd still buzzed with disbelief.
"Did you see that? He didn't even look tired."
"That's impossible. That guy he beat has been undefeated in school matches before."
"Who is this Jed Cruz, really?"
---
On the sidelines, David Ahn's fists were clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms.
His lackeys tried to console him.
"Don't worry, boss. That was just luck. He won't last against you."
But David's pride burned.
Jed—the boy he had once humiliated, the boy he thought was beneath him—was standing in his way again.
And Reina Salvador noticed.
Her sharp gaze followed Jed's every move. Unlike the crowd, she wasn't impressed by brute displays. She watched his posture, his timing, the way his grip didn't falter under pressure.
"That wasn't luck… He's trained."
---
Meanwhile, Marcus Perez leaned against the wall at the far end of the gym, his arms crossed. His large frame drew whispers from the other competitors.
"That's Marcus, the arm wrestling beast."
"I heard he trains with grown men at his local gym."
"Nobody can hold his pronation strength for more than a few seconds."
Marcus smirked as his eyes locked on Jed.
"So… you're the one shaking the crowd. Let's see if you can last against me."
---
The announcer called for the second round of preliminaries.
Jed walked to the table once more. This time his opponent wasn't laughing. A tall student with long arms, known for his endurance, stood across from him. His strategy was clear: drag the match out, wear Jed down, and finish him when his grip gave way.
"Ready… set… go!"
The opponent didn't attack with full force this time. Instead, he held Jed in the middle, resisting, testing, waiting.
Minutes ticked by.
The crowd started murmuring.
"Jed's not moving…"
"He's going to gas out."
But Jed's eyes didn't waver. His breathing was steady. Every second he remembered his endless days of training—the rope climbs that burned his forearms raw, the weighted pistol squat jumps that left his legs trembling, the stone-lift deadlifts that shattered his grip but rebuilt it stronger.
This wasn't just a match. This was survival, like back in Akasha.
Finally, when his opponent thought Jed was fading, Jed's lips curled into a faint smirk.
SLAM!
The table cracked under the sudden force as Jed drove the opponent's arm down in a single, decisive motion.
Gasps erupted again.
The referee raised Jed's arm once more.
"Winner—Jed Cruz!"
---
From the stands, Reina leaned back, exhaling softly.
"…Two wins. He's not just surviving. He's dominating."
David Ahn slammed his fist against the bench, startling the students beside him.
"Damn it! He's not stealing my spotlight. Not him!"
And Marcus Perez's grin widened.
"Good. Don't fall before reaching me, Jed. I want to crush you myself."
---
Jed returned to his seat, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The crowd no longer mocked him.
Now, their whispers carried a different weight.
"Jed Cruz… he might really be the dark horse of this tournament."
Jed tightened his fist under the table. His body ached, but his spirit burned brighter than ever.
He wasn't here just to compete. He was here to win.