Chapter 18: A Battle for Life – Part 3
(First Person POV – May Blackheart)
My stomach wasn't empty.
I had eaten earlier.
And yet, there was a hollow sensation inside me, like something was missing. Not hunger exactly—more like anticipation. A restless tension coiled low in my abdomen.
Excitement.
I pushed the feeling aside.
It was afternoon now, and my third—and final—match was about to begin.
I hoped this one would be stronger than the first two.
"It is the final match," Cellular Adaptation displayed. "The probability of your opponent being significantly stronger is high."
"Good," I replied internally. "Do you think they might just give up? After that little… leak in the cafeteria?"
That was mostly wishful thinking. Still, it didn't hurt to imagine.
The system screen remained unchanged for a few seconds before updating.
Probability of opponent forfeiting: 2.7%.
"Yeah. Makes sense," I muttered inwardly. "No one reaches the final match just to surrender."
Soon enough, I entered the arena again.
This time, my platform was positioned near the center—slightly elevated compared to the others. A more prominent stage. More visible.
More symbolic.
I stepped onto it and looked at my opponent.
He was… large.
Tall enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to meet his gaze. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. Dense musculature that looked functional rather than decorative.
And horns.
Curved, dark horns emerging from his temples.
"So," I said internally, "any information?"
Cellular Adaptation responded immediately.
"Most likely identity: Rokan Vale. Age sixteen. Awakened Unnatural. Talent: Bull Lord. D-rank. Ranked strongest among the recent three batches of Night Watchers recruits."
I felt a flicker of amusement.
Finally.
Someone strong enough that I wouldn't need to hold back out of fear of killing them by accident.
I stepped fully onto the platform.
We faced each other.
His eyes scanned me from head to toe.
He looked… disappointed.
As if he expected something larger. Something more visibly intimidating.
Rumors, perhaps.
He finally spoke.
"You look small for your age."
"And that's a problem?" I asked evenly.
"No," he replied. "Just wondering if you're eating enough."
I stared at him.
"That sounded better in your head, didn't it?"
He paused.
"Yes," he admitted.
We stood there for a few seconds longer, tension quietly building between us.
Then the bell rang.
He moved instantly.
His foot slammed against the platform with enough force to shake it, and he launched forward like an actual bull charging through a gate.
The platform trembled violently beneath me.
I tried to sidestep—
But the vibration disrupted my balance just enough.
He hit me.
Directly in the stomach.
The impact was monstrous. Air exploded out of my lungs as my body lifted off the ground. For a split second, I thought I would be thrown off the platform entirely.
But I caught myself—barely—digging my heel into the surface.
Pain flared through my abdomen.
Before he could pull back, I slammed my palm down on the back of his head.
It felt like striking stone.
A sharp crack ran through my hand—internal, subtle, but unmistakable.
Bone fracture.
Minor.
Manageable.
"He has enhanced cranial density," Cellular Adaptation noted.
"No kidding," I replied internally.
Rokan continued pushing forward, trying to bulldoze me toward the edge.
His strategy was simple: overpower, overwhelm, eject.
Against most opponents, it would have worked.
But I wasn't most opponents.
I leaned forward and began pushing back.
Every step felt like grinding against a moving wall. His raw strength in the First Physical Star System was overwhelming. Pure force. Dense. Relentless.
Our feet scraped against the platform in opposite directions.
Then—
I felt it.
His horns pierced through my side.
A sharp, burning intrusion.
For half a second, my vision flickered.
"Significant tissue damage detected," Cellular Adaptation began.
"Adaptation required—"
"Later," I cut it off.
Pain didn't matter.
Not now.
We were locked together like two feral animals trying to dominate territory.
Technically, one of us actually qualified as partially animalistic.
I kept striking the back of his head.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each hit stronger than the last.
Something primal surfaced in me—not rage exactly, but focus sharpened to a violent edge.
One particularly solid blow landed perfectly at the base of his skull.
A cracking sound followed.
Subtle.
But real.
His footing slipped.
Just slightly.
His forward momentum faltered.
That was all I needed.
He was strong—ridiculously strong—in the first physical system.
But I wasn't specialized.
I was optimized.
Across every system.
I grabbed both of his horns tightly.
He reacted a fraction too late.
Using the mismatch in our shifting momentum, I twisted my hips and pulled upward while stepping sideways. His center of gravity lifted off alignment.
We began spinning.
Once.
Twice.
The world blurred into motion.
My wounded body screamed in protest, but I ignored it.
On the third rotation, I released.
I threw him.
With everything I had left.
He flew off the platform, crashing beyond the boundary line with a heavy impact that echoed through the arena.
Silence fell.
Then the match was declared.
Over.
One Hour Later
The fight had been strange.
Brutal.
And strangely satisfying.
I was now lying in the infirmary inside the Night Watchers headquarters.
White ceiling. Soft lighting. Clean air.
The nurses here possessed high-grade healing talents. My wounds were already mostly closed. The horn punctures had sealed cleanly, leaving only faint tenderness.
Self-healing worked alongside their abilities, accelerating the process.
I lay under a warm blanket.
Still.
Calm.
A nurse sat beside my bed, holding a sliced apple.
"For energy," she said gently.
She fed me a slice before I could object.
I blinked.
This was… unnecessary.
But not unpleasant.
"You pushed yourself quite hard," she added, her tone professional but kind. "Try not to rupture anything again."
"I'll consider it," I replied dryly.
She smiled faintly.
My body felt heavy now that the adrenaline had faded.
The hollow sensation from earlier was gone.
Replaced with something else.
Fulfillment.
The final match had not been easy.
Good.
Easy battles are forgettable.
Hard ones carve themselves into memory.
As I stared at the ceiling, one thought lingered quietly in my mind.
If that overseer truly watched the finals—
Then he had seen everything.
And that meant—
The real battles were only beginning.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE:-
here is MC'S status since i was forgetting she even has a status function.
Status
Name: May Blackheart.
Age: 16 years, 5 months, 34 days
Star Systems in Training:
Physical Star System
Mental Star System
Physical Star System:
Star 1 (Progress: 0.78%)
Mental Star System:
Star 0 (Progress: 0.78%)
Talents:
Cellular Adaptation (Rank: Unknown | Type: Host)
Shadow God Domain (Rank: Unknown | partly Awakened)
Adaptations:
Muscle Decay Resistance – Rank 6
Bleeding Resistance – Rank 9
Slashing Resistance – Rank 7
Blunt Impact Resistance – Rank 5
Starvation Resistance – Rank 7
Dehydration Resistance – Rank 8
Disease Resistance – Rank 8
Cold Resistance – Rank 4
Drug Resistance – Rank 3
Heat Resistance – Rank 4
Iron Stomach – Rank 7
Poison Resistance – Rank 2
Pain Resistance – Rank 9
Self-Healing – Rank 10
Void Energy Absorption – Rank 15
Muscle strain Resistance – Rank 5
Battle instincts – Rank 5
Electricity Resistance – Rank 2.
I know some might be wrong but i am not going through all my chapters to find the mistakes so. Bye. My dear sweet sweet readers.)