The second wave of the lottery began.
Rian stepped into the white chalk boundary of circle twelve. He held his heavy ash-wood spear. The dull steel tip rested near his boot.
His opponent was a tall, heavily scarred boy from the Castout Empire. The boy carried a thick iron halberd. His Aether aura was dense and violent. Foundation Level 8. They were physical equals.
The referee in the grey uniform stepped back. "Begin," he shouted.
The Castout boy did not hesitate. He roared and charged forward. He swung the massive halberd in a wide, horizontal arc. He wanted to break Rian's spear shaft in half and crush his ribs in a single motion.
Rian did not retreat.
He remembered the deep bruises on his hands. He remembered Instructor Thorne slapping his weapon into the dirt. He dropped his stance low. He loosened his grip on his front hand. He gripped the very base of the ash-wood shaft tightly with his back hand.
The heavy halberd sliced through the air.
Rian stepped inside the swing. He pushed entirely with his back hand, putting the heavy muscles of his Level 8 legs directly behind the thrust. He only used his front hand to guide the dull iron tip.
The blunt spear point struck the Castout boy dead center in the chest.
Thud.
The kinetic energy transferred perfectly. The sound was like a heavy boulder hitting a wooden door. The thick leather vest did not stop the blunt force. The boy's ribs groaned under the pressure. The massive forward momentum of his own charge worked against him.
The Castout boy was lifted off his feet. He flew backward through the air. He crashed heavily into the dirt, rolling past the white chalk boundary. He dropped his halberd and clutched his chest, gasping for oxygen.
The referee pointed at Rian. "Winner."
Rian lowered his spear. He rubbed his knuckles. The form was clean. The return on his bruised hands was a complete victory. He walked out of the ring and headed back to the wall.
On the other side of the arena, Luna stood in circle nineteen.
Her hands shook slightly. She held the wooden handle of the dull kusarigama in her right hand. The heavy iron ball dangled from the chain in her left.
Her opponent was a girl with short red hair and a cruel smile. The girl held a pair of heavy iron brass knuckles. She was a brawler. She was Foundation Level 6. She looked at Luna's pale face and trembling hands. She saw an easy target.
"Begin," the referee shouted.
The red-haired girl sprinted instantly. She kept her head down and her fists raised. Her entire strategy was simple. She needed to eliminate the open space between them. If she got close enough to throw a punch, the heavy iron chain was useless.
Luna swallowed hard. She tightened her grip on the wooden handle.
The girl crossed half the ring in two seconds.
Luna threw the iron weight. She threw it straight at the girl's chest. The chain rattled loudly as it extended to its full length.
The red-haired girl laughed. It was a completely predictable, linear attack. The girl simply sidestepped to the left without slowing her forward sprint. The heavy iron ball flew harmlessly past her shoulder, hitting nothing but empty air.
The girl was now only five feet away. Luna's primary weapon was behind her enemy. She was completely exposed. The girl raised a heavy iron fist, preparing to shatter Luna's jaw.
Luna did not panic. She did not try to pull the chain back in a straight line.
She engaged her Foundation Level 7 core. The air around her shoulders rippled wildly. Her blue eyes locked onto the empty area directly behind the charging girl.
She did not pull the chain. She pulled the space itself.
Luna pulsed her Aether into the environment. She grabbed the invisible fabric of the arena and twisted it sharply.
The physics of the heavy iron ball instantly broke.
The iron weight was flying straight toward the steel wall. But the space in front of it suddenly curved. The heavy ball hit the spatial distortion. It lost zero kinetic momentum, but its trajectory snapped a hard ninety degrees to the left.
It hooked around the warped space like a rock swinging on a tight rope.
The red-haired girl was mid-step when the iron ball slammed directly into the back of her knees.
Crack.
The impact was brutal. The girl's legs buckled entirely. Her forward sprint turned into a violent, uncontrolled fall. She crashed face-first into the hard dirt. Her jaw hit the ground heavily. The heavy brass knuckles slipped from her fingers.
She did not get back up. The strike to the back of the knees had paralyzed her nervous system with sudden pain.
Luna stood completely still. She flicked her wrist slightly. The space smoothed out. The chain rattled as she pulled the heavy iron ball back into her left hand.
The referee stared at the unconscious girl in the dirt. He looked at Luna. He had not seen a physical pull. He just saw the iron ball change direction in mid-air.
"Winner," the referee declared. He blew his whistle and signaled for the medical team.
Luna let out a long, shaky breath. The trembling in her hands stopped. She looked down at the heavy chain. The strategy worked. She did not need to be physically strong. She just needed to control the board.
She turned around and walked back to the cold steel wall.
Jin sat in the dirt. He watched her approach. He processed the spatial distortion he had just witnessed. It was a highly efficient use of the environment. The space legacy was proving to be an incredible asset.
Rian and Elin were already sitting next to him. They nodded at Luna as she sat down.
"Good hit," Rian said. He wiped sweat from his face.
Luna offered a small, tired smile. "I almost panicked. But the space felt heavy. I just moved it."
Jin rested his arms on his heavy falchion.
"You managed the variable," Jin stated flatly. "You kept the space clear. It was acceptable."
The first round of the lottery concluded. The medical teams carried away the last of the twenty-five losers. The dirt arena was stained with sweat and small patches of blood.
Instructor Thorne walked back to the center of the room. He picked up the square wooden box from the dirt. The twenty-five winners stood up and formed a new line.
"Round one is over," Thorne announced. His voice was cold. "Twenty-five of you remain. The lots go back in the box. Twelve matches. One free pass. Form a line and draw your fate. Round two starts in exactly five minutes."
Jin stood up. The heavy iron blade dragged slightly in the dirt. The physical exertion was minimal so far, but the Aether drain of the rapid matches was real. He walked toward the wooden box to pull his next number.