Mikan stepped down from the platform almost without breaking a sweat. Her fight against Kiron had been quick—far too quick for a semifinal. The warrior from Caldus had fought with pride, but he was no match for the ninja's skill. Her reflexes and surgical precision with Astral dismantled every attempt he made within seconds.
As she walked down the corridor, tightening her ponytail, a crooked smile tugged at her lips.
—Did I really make it to the semifinals with that? —she muttered to herself—. These tournament folks seriously need to raise the bar…
In the distance, she spotted Asori waiting. His expression was nothing like before—shoulders tense, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the arena as if staring into an abyss.
—What's wrong with you, bush-head? —she asked, giving his arm a friendly smack.
Asori swallowed hard. He stayed quiet for a moment, then finally let out the words that had haunted him since the night before:
—I'm afraid of him, Mikan… of that man. Of Sir Kael.
His eyes dropped, almost in shame.
—I don't know why… but when I'm near him, I feel like I can't breathe. Like my body remembers something my mind can't.
Mikan studied him, unusually serious.
—And so what? —she said dryly—. You think being brave means not feeling fear? Wrong, kid. Fear is what keeps us alive. What matters is what you do with that fear.
Asori lifted his gaze, finding an odd comfort in her words.
—You use it as a weapon. —Mikan grinned, squeezing his shoulder—. Turn it into rage, into instinct, into the will not to fall. That knight has no idea who he's dealing with.
The simple words ignited something inside Asori's chest. He drew in a deep breath, exhaled a trembling sigh, and walked toward the platform.
From the stands, Blair followed every step. Her heart thundered like a war drum, erratic and wild. It wasn't just worry: Kael's presence smothered her, suffocated her. Her body shook as if her very Astral rejected his closeness.
Beside her, Mikrom tried to sound upbeat, but even he couldn't hide his unease.
Then footsteps approached with firm resolve. Jason. His presence was cold, imposing, and the moment his eyes fell on the arena, he understood.
—So there he is… —he muttered, staring at Kael with disgust and icy disdain.
Blair looked at him, startled. Jason clenched his jaw, then turned to Mikrom.
—I've uncovered the Shadow Knight's true identity. And I see that Asori is about to face him.
Mikan, back in the stands after her fight, narrowed her eyes.
—You're late, genius. We already figured something's off with him.
Jason ignored her, his tone as frigid as ever.
—My contact was right. We're in serious trouble. Zeknier already knows Blair is alive. —his gaze sliced into her like a blade—. And he also knows that boy… —he pointed at Asori, who was stepping into the platform— is the bearer of Air.
The words fell like a bucket of ice water.
—What… did you just say? —Mikrom whispered.
—Sir Kael personally asked Zeknier to handle it. His mission is simple: eliminate Asori in this tournament.
The ground seemed to vanish beneath Blair's feet. Her breathing quickened. Now she understood why fear devoured her—Kael wasn't just dangerous. He was the executioner sent by Zeknier himself.
Jason, merciless, added:
—I won't interfere. I don't care what happens to that Asori. My only job is to make sure you're safe, Blair.
Blair's eyes welled with tears.
—At least Asori stayed by my side to protect me! —she shouted, trembling.
Jason gritted his teeth.
—That bastard only survived by sheer luck. He doesn't stand a chance against Kael.
The sound of the slap cracked the air, sharp and brutal. Jason's head snapped to the side.
—Don't you ever speak that way about my Asori again! —Blair's body trembled, but her gaze burned with iron resolve—. Don't you ever say that!
Silence swallowed them. Jason stared, confused—his cold mask cracking for the briefest second. But he said nothing. He simply turned and walked away.
—…Well, damn. —Mikrom muttered, scratching his head—. Never thought you'd have the guts to slap Jason.
Blair lowered her gaze, still shaking, hugging herself.
—I won't let anyone belittle the one who saved my life.
Mikan, arms crossed, cut through the moment:
—The fight's about to start. Look.
In the arena, Asori kept his distance. The memory of fear clung to him, but Mikan's words echoed in his mind. Turn fear into a weapon.
Opposite him, Sir Kael loomed like living shadow, his black armor glinting under the light. His mere presence made the platform tremble.
A heavy silence settled. And then, without warning, Kael lunged forward.
—What—?!
The knight's fist smashed into Asori's face with devastating force. The impact lifted him off his feet, hurling him through the air like a rag doll.
The crowd erupted in cheers and screams, but Blair clutched her chest, choking back a cry.
Asori barely had time to react before, midair, Kael was upon him again. An arm outstretched like a guillotine.
The lariat crashed into his neck and chest, folding him backward. Air blasted from his lungs as his body slammed into the platform with an impact that shook the entire arena.
Agonizing pain shot down his spine, his vision blurred. He coughed, tasting blood.
With effort, he raised his gaze. Through the haze, he saw Kael approaching, step by step, like an executioner closing in on his victim. His shadow stretched long across the arena—dark, merciless.
Asori gasped, trembling, forcing himself to rise. The fear still consumed him, but deep in his heart, something burned: his promise to Blair. His vow never to back down again.
The battle had only just begun… and already it felt like hell.