Robert gave me a confused look—
and I grinned.
Couldn't help it.
Hooked my legs around his and yanked hard.
He didn't go down—just staggered.
Didn't matter.
To keep his balance, Torent had to use his hands.
Which meant—
no power.
Not for a second.
That was enough.
I grabbed his torso, pulled myself up, slid my hands to his neck—
and the moment he tried to throw me off—
I planted my palms on his shoulders, flipped over him—
and drove both heels straight into his lower back.
He went flying.
Hit the ground face-first.
Hard.
"What are you, a monkey?" he said, pushing himself up—
grinning.
I didn't wait.
Closed the distance.
Struck—fast, precise—pressure points.
Torent staggered.
Dropped to his knees—
almost slammed into the dirt—
but I caught him, flipped him onto his back, stepped away.
"Didn't expect that," he muttered, not moving.
I'd locked him down.
Temporarily.
"You surprised me too," I said, exhaling. "Since when do you fire power like that? I need to have a word with Miror."
I turned for my badges.
The stands erupted—
not in cheers.
Disapproval.
Of course.
I wasn't exactly popular.
Didn't care.
Andrew was smiling.
That was enough.
Taisha gave a short nod.
Approval.
Rare.
Worth it.
Robert took more out of me than I expected.
I drained a bottle of water in one go and stepped back out.
"You're full of surprises," Matthew said as we took our ten steps.
This time—
he wasn't my friend.
He was an opponent.
And something about him—
felt different.
Dangerous.
But outwardly?
Same calm.
Same stillness.
I moved first.
No hesitation.
Straight strike—
too obvious.
He slipped it easily.
A flicker—barely there.
Muscle tension.
I jumped right—
his left hand cut through the air where my face had been a second ago.
I pressed him.
Forced him back.
Tried to make him attack.
He didn't.
Just defended.
Watching.
Reading me.
…Same as I was reading him.
So I changed pace.
Shifted rhythm.
Tried to throw him off.
We circled.
Tested.
Time slipped.
Two fights already behind me.
My stamina wasn't holding.
I felt it.
So I gambled.
Bad call.
I went in—
fast combination—
trying to end it.
Relied completely on reading him.
Too confident.
I landed a hit to his stomach—
he folded.
I moved for the follow-up—
shifted right—
and missed it.
His right hand.
Didn't see it.
No time to dodge.
I braced—
tensed—
ready for the hit—
And then—
it stopped.
For half a second.
And the next—
white-hot pain detonated between my legs.
He kicked me.
Air ripped out of my lungs.
Gone.
Nothing left.
I dropped to my knees—
hands clutching myself—
breathing in broken gasps—
vision blurring—
Barely saw it—
his hands locked together—
coming down—
fast—
Impact.
Heavy.
Everything went black.
"Kid, who taught you to fight like that?"
Taisha.
Her voice—
curious.
"No one," Matthew said. "I learned in underground fights."
"Impressive," she said. "I'd take you as a second student—but retraining you would be inefficient. And unnecessary. Your instincts are solid. Trust them."
"Thank you, Teacher Chen. How's Alan? I didn't mean to—"
"It was a fight. Not a spar. He was trying to win. So were you."
I groaned.
Opened my eyes.
Head pounding.
Stomach turning.
"Alan—you okay?" Matthew asked.
There was guilt in his voice.
"You're amazing," I said, forcing a grin.
"You pushed me," he said quietly. "I had to get serious."
Figures.
"Taisha," I said, turning to her.
"You lost control," she said flatly. "You realized your stamina wouldn't last—and rushed. That mistake cost you the fight."
No sympathy.
None.
"Forget rest. You'll spend the entire break on menseo."
…I groaned again.
"She's brutal," Robert said. "But we're still going, right?" He winked. "That place."
The brothel.
"Going where?" Alma's voice cut in as she walked up.
"Men's business," Robert said. "Not for women."
"So you're leaving me behind while you go have fun?" she shot back, glaring at me.
"No—I mean—it was Robert's idea, I just—"
"Hey, ease up," Robert cut in. "Can't you see? He can't even answer properly yet. Not a real man."
Alma snorted.
Grabbed my arm and pulled me up.
"Come on, Alan. No need to stay around this uncivilized idiot. You might catch his stupidity."
The argument dragged through dinner—
into the common room—
until we finally dropped the brothel idea altogether.
Instead—
New Year's.
Small group.
Us.
The twins. Koni.
Which meant—
no alcohol.
No gambling.
No prostitutes.
Robert looked like someone had died.
"This is torture," he declared—
while setting four liter bottles of whiskey, wine, and champagne on the table.
"…I knew you'd handle that," Alma grinned, unpacking snacks.
Everyone had gone into the city earlier.
Everyone—
except me.
Taisha made sure of that.
Training.
All day.
So now I sat in the corner—
empty-handed.
Useless.
"Hey," Miguel walked in without knocking. Koni right behind him.
"Koni, help me," Alma called, trying to organize the chaos.
"Am I late?" Nick stepped in, smiling, carrying another bag. "This is mine and Alan's contribution."
He glanced at me.
Robert immediately dug into the bag.
"Damn, you even thought of that?" he said, pulling out more drinks, sweets, cups.
"I'll pay you back," I muttered to Nick.
"Relax," he said, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "I figured you'd hate sitting there with nothing to contribute."
…Yeah.
He got it exactly right.