"You may begin." Marrionette's voice was lazy but the moment the words left her mouth, the air changed.
Zareck felt it instantly.
He glanced sideways.
Malichi was already moving.
Away.
He deliberately created distance, slipping toward a sparser section of the raised arena.
For a brief second, confusion crossed Zareck's mind.
Why—?
Then it clicked.
If Malichi stayed near them, no one would dare approach. Not seriously. Fear, hesitation, restraint, those were all invisible shields born from status. Any fight near him would be half-hearted at best, and none of them would get to truly show what they were capable of.
Zareck's lips twitched.
He looked to Will.
Will had realized it at the same time.
Their eyes met. Will lifted his thumb in a quick, sharp gesture.
Zareck followed after him.
And across the arena, Malichi saw.
Relief flashed openly across his face, followed by a small, grateful smile. He gave a simple nod then turned away and melted into the shifting crowd.
A heartbeat later, chaos erupted.
The mock stadium dissolved into motion, shouts, clashing bodies, bursts of spiritual energy gathering and colliding like sparks in dry grass. Children rushed forward, some screaming, some laughing, some frozen in place for half a breath too long before instinct finally kicked in.
Zareck lost sight of Malichi almost immediately.
He barely had time to register it.
Pressure hit from the front.
Two figures broke from the crowd at once. A boy and a girl, moving with just enough coordination to make their intent obvious.
They planned this, Zareck noted coolly.
The boy angled toward him. The girl veered for Will.
Divide and overwhelm.
Simple. Crude.
Effective. Against weaker targets.
Zareck's eyes locked onto the boy.
Sword wielder.
The blade was a standard practice sword, dull-edged but solid, held in a grip that screamed inexperience. His stance was awkward. Too stiff. And far too wide. His spiritual energy pulsed unevenly through his arms, surging too late, too early, he was no doubt butchering whatever instructions his combat technique can given him.
What else did he expect after he chose a weapons technique, Zarek thought defeatedly.
He had nothing against weapons in principle, but choosing one when you barely understood your own body? When your foundation was still raw and unstable?
Idiotic.
The boy shouted, more for courage than intimidation he supposed, and swung.
It was clumsy and overcommitted. The blade whistled loudly through the air, telegraphing its path a full heartbeat before it arrived.
Zarek simply stepped aside.
Just one half-step. Clean. Effortless.
The sword passed through empty space.
Before the boy could recover, Zareck planted his palm squarely against his chest.
He didn't strike with Tiger Claw Fingers.
He didn't need to.
The boy's ribs caved inward slightly under the impact as his breath was ripped from his lungs.
The sound that came out of him wasn't even a scream but a wheeze.
His body flew backward, feet leaving the ground as if yanked by an invisible rope. He hit the stone floor hard, skidded, then curled in on himself.
Zareck blinked.
The boy wasn't getting up. He was… crying.
Tears streamed down his face as he clutched his chest, wailing loudly, shoulders shaking as if the world had ended.
Zareck froze.
What…?
For a split second, confusion overwhelmed him.
Did I hit him too hard?
The boy was acting like—
Has he never been hit before?
The realization struck harder than any blow.
Before Zareck could process it further, the air rippled.
An instructor was suddenly there.
One moment the boy was alone on the ground, the next a cultivator instructor stood beside him, he grasped the boy by the shoulder.
They vanished.
Gone from the arena in a blink.
Zareck stood there, palm still faintly tingling, staring at the empty space they'd left behind.
Around him, the chaos continued unabated.
Zareck snapped out of his drifting thoughts when he heard Will grunt sharply a short distance away.
He turned his head.
Will was still engaged with the girl who had split off to fight him. Unlike Zareck's opponent, she was no fool. Their cultivation levels were the same, both first level Body Forging, and she had clearly chosen a movement-based combat technique. Her steps were light and quick, her body darting in short bursts, always angling, never staying in one place for long.
It made the fight messy.
Will missed twice in quick succession as she slipped past his reach, her palm grazing his shoulder, then his side. Neither strike carried much force, but they were clean hits.
Zareck watched closely.
Will adjusted almost immediately.
He stopped chasing her.
Instead, he planted his feet, lowered his centre of gravity, and waited. His eyes tracked her movements rather than her body, watching the way her weight shifted before each dash. When she lunged again, faster this time, Will stepped in instead of back and caught her forearm mid-strike.
The impact rang out sharply.
She gasped as Will twisted his grip and drove his shoulder forward, forcing her off balance. He followed with a short, solid kick to her thigh that sent her stumbling backward.
Zareck nodded faintly.
Will was winning. Not through raw strength, but through control. He wasted no movement, little energy, and every exchange pushed the girl closer to losing her footing and her composure.
Still, Zareck did not intervene.
He shifted his focus outward instead.
The arena was chaos now, bodies colliding in uneven clusters, some fights ending in seconds, others dragging on in frantic exchanges. Zareck scanned the surrounding area carefully, noting who was close, who looked eager to interfere, and who was already circling for opportunistic strikes.
Two boys nearby glanced toward Will's fight, then toward Zareck. One hesitated. The other started to step forward.
Zareck met his gaze.
No expression. No threat. Just calm awareness.
The boy stopped.
Zareck returned his attention to Will.
The girl tried one last burst of speed, pushing her technique past what her body could comfortably handle. Her step faltered. Will saw it instantly and struck, a clean palm to her shoulder followed by a sweeping leg that took her off her feet.
She hit the ground hard and stayed there.
An instructor appeared moments later and removed her from the arena.
Will exhaled, rolling his shoulder once before straightening. His breathing was steady, his expression focused, not triumphant.
Zareck felt a quiet sense of approval.
They were holding their ground.
And the battle was far from over.