[Timeline: 1 Hour After Round 1]
[Location: Class F Waiting Room]
The adrenaline had worn off. Now, there was only the ache.
Lukas lay sprawled on a wooden bench, a wet towel over his face. His hands, usually cold, were still radiating heat from the overuse of his Combustion Gloves.
"I feel like a raisin," Lukas groaned. "I used too much mana. My core feels dry."
Alaric sat in the corner. He wasn't complaining, but he looked like a patchwork doll.
The school nurse, a terrified woman who had barely touched him, had applied healing patches to the dozens of shallow cuts Jett had inflicted.
"He was fast," Alaric murmured, testing the mobility of his bandaged arm. "If I had missed that swing... I would have lost."
"But you didn't miss," Elena said. She was the only one who looked composed, sitting upright and polishing her monocle. "That's all that matters."
The door opened.
The room went silent.
