[Day 3 of the Tournament – Semi-Finals]
[Location: Class F Waiting Room]
The euphoria of the previous day had evaporated. In its place was a heavy, suffocating silence.
The waiting room felt less like a locker room and more like a holding cell for the condemned.
The magitech screen on the wall displayed the bracket in bright, mocking neon letters:
[SEMI-FINAL 1: PRINCE NERO vs. LUKAS] [SEMI-FINAL 2: ALARIC vs. ELENA]
Lukas sat on the bench, staring at his hands tembling at the thought of his next match.
"I'm dead," Lukas whispered, his voice cracking.
"I have to fight the Prince. Did you see what he did to the Berserker? He touched him once. Just once!"
Alaric sat in the corner, icing his shoulder where Jorah's hammer had crumpled his armor. He looked at the screen, then at Elena.
Elena was polishing her Photon Lens, but her movements were mechanical. She avoided Alaric's gaze.
"They rigged it," Alaric rumbled, his voice low.
