Even though the duel had only been scheduled a few hours earlier, way more people showed up than I expected.
Good.
Let them watch.
I'd show them exactly what I was capable of.
"I'll try not to cripple you too badly," my opponent sneered.
That did it.
The moment the second called, "Begin," I moved.
No hesitation.
I shot forward, releasing strands of combat energy from both hands at once. It threw him off for a split second—
but only for a second.
He recovered fast.
Stronger.
More experienced.
That much was obvious.
But I'd been trained by the best.
He couldn't match me in speed.
In agility.
In endurance.
My injured leg screamed with every step—
but I didn't pull back.
I leaned into it.
Let it burn.
No one was ever going to break me again.
Rage blurred my vision, but my body remembered Taisha's lessons. It moved on its own—slipping past his strikes, dodging by inches.
The fight didn't last long.
The moment his focus slipped—
I went in.
Wrapped my energy around him.
Locked him down.
He tore through the first bind—
but I didn't stop.
Didn't give him space.
Didn't give him time.
Seconds later, he was on the ground.
Tied down.
Helpless.
Staring up at me like he couldn't believe it.
A crooked smile pulled at my lips.
"Sleep," I said—
and kicked him straight in the face.
"Winner—Alan Holivan," the second announced.
No outrage.
No shouting.
They hadn't expected that.
Good.
I'd make sure they never underestimated me again.
Something inside me snapped into place.
Or maybe—
burned out.
This was it.
This was what I needed.
"Anyone else?" I shouted, turning to the crowd. "Come on. One at a time."
That was all it took.
"You piece of shit!" someone yelled. "I accept!"
—
The crowd kept growing.
Fight after fight.
This was the sixth.
I was exhausted.
Completely drained.
But I kept going.
Pure will.
Nothing else.
I had to prove it.
Had to prove I wasn't weak.
"And once again—the winner, Alan Holivan!" the second called out—then lowered his voice. "Kid… stop. Look at yourself."
"I can still fight," I rasped, barely getting the words out.
"My turn!" someone shouted.
I didn't even look.
Didn't care who it was.
"No. That's enough."
Andrew's voice cut through everything.
He stepped onto the field.
"Instructor, a challenge has already been issued—you can't cancel it!"
"A Special can't issue multiple challenges in a row."
"He can if he agrees—and Holivan agrees!"
"He's done," Andrew said flatly. "I said we're finished."
"I can—!" I tried—
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped—
and drove a punch into my stomach.
Hard.
Too hard.
I folded.
Hit the ground.
Air gone.
"As I said—Holivan is done. Disperse."
He hauled me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
I didn't fight it.
Couldn't.
Didn't have the strength.
Didn't even have the will.
I just hung there—
upside down—
waiting for it to end.
—
It worked.
The fights worked.
The anger was gone.
The frustration too.
There was nothing left.
Nothing.
Just—
emptiness.
And for the first time in a long while—
peace.
"Sit," Andrew said, dropping me onto a bed. "Doctor will be here in a minute."
"I don't need a doctor. I'm fine."
"Have you looked at yourself?" His voice tightened. "Alan, what the hell is going on with you?"
"It's not my blood," I muttered. "Well… not all of it."
"Talk to me. You weren't like this before."
"I'm fine. That was just… therapy."
"Therapy?" he repeated.
"Yeah."
I stared at my hands.
Dirty.
Sticky with dried blood.
Didn't look at him.
Didn't want to.
Didn't notice how tense he'd gotten—
until he grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
Hard.
Forced me to look up.
His eyes—
black.
Completely.
His lips pressed so tight they'd gone pale.
"Sorry," I blurted out.
I'd seen him angry before.
But not like this.
Never at me.
"What are you apologizing for?" he asked, his voice easing—just barely.
"For everything."
"Be specific."
"For how I've been acting."
"So you do realize you've been acting like you've lost your damn mind?"
"…Partly."
"Is this about Paul?" he asked, letting go and dropping in front of me so we were at eye level.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Look… I'll be fine. I just needed to get it out. I'm… confused."
"You could've talked to me," he said quietly. "I don't like seeing you like this."
"Like what?" irritation flared again. "Pathetic? Weak? No, Andrew—I don't want you seeing me like that. I'm not—"
"Hey." He cut me off. "I've never seen you as pathetic. Not even the first time we met."
I gave him a look.
"Okay, fine," he smirked faintly. "You annoyed the hell out of me back then—but that had more to do with your background, not you."
"But I've been on two field missions," I said, voice tightening. "And I screwed up both. Feels like I can't do anything right. That's why I jumped into those duels. To prove—"
"To prove you're a reckless idiot who forgot everything I taught you?"
Taisha.
Of course.
She'd slipped into the room without a sound.
"I didn't—"
"Shut up, Alan Holivan," she said coldly, sitting beside me, her gaze sharp. "Don't make me regret choosing you."
"I'm sorry."
"If you actually mean that—and you want to keep training under me—then starting tomorrow, you go back to duels," she said. "But this time…"
Her eyes hardened.
"I don't want to see a cornered animal on that field."
She leaned slightly closer.
"I want to see a hunter. One who knows he's going to win."
"Taisha, I don't think that's a good idea," Andrew said.
"The boy needs an outlet," she replied calmly. "Let him do it properly, Storik. I am his combat instructor."
Her gaze didn't leave mine.
"And today—for the first time—I was ashamed of my student."
A pause.
"Do you understand, Holivan? Fail—and I stop teaching you."
"Yes, Instructor Chen," I said quietly. "I understand."