CHAPTER 8: Round One
GOD POV
Monday morning arrived with the weight of expectation.
The tournament arena—normally a training ground for combat classes—had been transformed overnight. Wooden stands rose on three sides, capable of seating five hundred spectators. A raised platform dominated the center, its surface marked with protective wards. Banners bearing the Academy crest hung from every available surface.
By 8:00 AM, the stands were full.
Students. Instructors. Visiting nobles. Guild representatives. Everyone wanted to see the next generation of hunters.
Everyone wanted to see who would rise.
And who would fall.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED LUCIAN
Lucian sat in the competitor's waiting area—a shaded space beneath the stands, away from the crowd's eyes.
He was not nervous.
He had never been nervous. Not in his previous life. Not in this one. Nerves required caring about outcomes, and he did not care. He only calculated.
My match is third, he thought. Ren will surrender immediately. I'll advance to round two with minimal effort.
The hero's match is fifth. Kael Vance is a competent fighter, but not exceptional. The hero should win.
But "should" and "will" are different things.
Especially when luck is involved.
He closed his eyes and reviewed his plans.
Round two: I'll face the winner of match seven. Probably some Crank nobody. I'll win, but I'll make it look difficult.
Round three: Darius or Kiera Vance. If Darius wins, I'll have a real fight. If Kiera wins, I'll have an easy one.
The finals: Likely the hero. Unless someone upsets him.
And if we meet in the finals...
I'll have to decide.
Win and reveal my true strength?
Or lose and maintain my mask?
He opened his eyes.
I'll decide when the time comes.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED ARCTURUS
Arcturus sat in the corner of the waiting area, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.
I can't do this.
I'm going to embarrass myself.
Everyone is going to watch me lose.
And then they'll all know I'm a fraud.
"Stop."
He looked up.
Darius was standing over him.
"Stop what?"
"Stop shaking. You look like a leaf."
"I'm nervous."
"Good. Nervous means you're not stupid. Stupid people are confident." Darius sat down next to him. "Listen. Kael Vance is a good fighter. Not great. Good. He relies on patterns. Repetition. If you break his rhythm, he breaks."
"How do I break his rhythm?"
"Be unpredictable. Do something stupid. Fall down on purpose. He won't know what to do."
"That's... actually good advice."
"Don't sound so surprised."
Arcturus took a breath.
Be unpredictable.
I can do that.
I think.
GOD POV
The first match was announced at 9:00 AM.
Professor Valoris stood at the center of the platform, her voice carrying across the arena without amplification.
"First match: Darius Kane versus Kiera Vance."
The crowd cheered.
Darius walked onto the platform with heavy steps, his fists already clenched. Kiera—smaller, faster, her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail—walked onto the platform from the opposite side.
They faced each other.
"Rules," Valoris said. "No lethal force. No attacks on downed opponents. Surrender is allowed. The match ends when one competitor cannot continue, surrenders, or is thrown from the platform."
She stepped back.
"Begin."
Kiera moved first.
She was fast—faster than Darius, faster than most of the competitors. Her daggers flashed in the morning light as she darted forward, aiming for his sides, his legs, anywhere he wasn't protecting.
Darius didn't dodge.
He took the hits.
Two daggers sank into his left arm. A third scraped across his ribs. Blood sprayed across the platform.
The crowd gasped.
Darius smiled.
"Now it's my turn."
He grabbed Kiera's wrist—squeezed—and she screamed as the bones ground together. Her daggers fell from nerveless fingers.
"Surrender," Darius said.
"No."
He squeezed harder.
"I said surrender."
Kiera's face was white with pain. But her eyes were defiant.
"Kael will beat you," she spat. "He'll beat all of you."
Darius raised his fist.
"I surrender," Kiera said.
The crowd erupted.
Darius let go. Kiera collapsed, cradling her injured wrist. Medics rushed onto the platform.
Darius walked away without looking back.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED Kael
Kael watched from the competitor's area, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.
She surrendered.
He hurt her.
I'll kill him.
I'll kill him slowly.
I'll—
"Kael."
He looked up.
Lyra was standing in front of him.
"Your sister will be fine," she said. "I saw the medics. It's just a sprain. She'll heal."
"That doesn't matter."
"It matters. She's alive. She's safe. That's what matters."
Kael stared at her.
She doesn't understand, he thought. She doesn't understand what it's like to have someone you love hurt.
She doesn't understand what it's like to be powerless to stop it.
But I'm not powerless.
Not anymore.
He stood up.
"My match is next."
"Kael—"
"I said my match is next."
He walked toward the platform.
His hands were shaking.
Not with fear.
With rage.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED LUCIAN
Kael is angry.
Good.
An angry fighter is a predictable fighter.
But the hero doesn't need predictability. He needs chaos.
Chaos is where luck thrives.
If Kael fights with rage, he'll be aggressive. He'll attack relentlessly. He'll leave openings.
The hero will exploit those openings.
Not because he's skilled. Because luck will guide his blade.
Lucian watched as Kael climbed onto the platform.
This will be over quickly.
GOD POV
"Second match: Arcturus versus Kael Vance."
Arcturus walked onto the platform.
His legs were shaking. His hands were shaking. Everything was shaking.
I can't do this.
I can't—
"Begin."
Kael charged.
No warning. No hesitation. Just pure, focused aggression.
His sword—a family heirloom, sharp and light—cut through the air toward Arcturus's chest.
Arcturus dodged.
Barely.
The blade grazed his shoulder, drawing blood.
He's fast, Arcturus thought. Too fast.
I can't keep up.
Kael struck again. And again. And again.
Each blow was faster than the last. Each strike was aimed at a vital area—chest, throat, head.
Arcturus dodged. Blocked. Dodged again.
But he was losing ground.
I need to do something stupid.
Darius said to do something stupid.
What's something stupid?
He stopped moving.
Kael's sword was midswing when Arcturus simply... sat down.
Right on the platform. Crosslegged. Like he was meditating.
Kael froze.
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting."
"Why?"
"Because I'm tired."
Kael stared at him.
This is a trick, he thought. He's baiting me.
But why would he—
His sword wavered.
Arcturus saw the opening and lunged.
Not with his weapon. He didn't have time to draw it. He lunged with his body—tackling Kael around the waist, driving him toward the edge of the platform.
Kael stumbled.
His foot touched the boundary line.
"Match," Professor Valoris announced, "goes to Arcturus. Ring out."
The crowd was silent.
Then someone laughed.
Then someone else.
Soon, the entire arena was laughing.
Kael pushed Arcturus off him and stood up, his face red with humiliation.
"That was stupid," he said.
"It worked."
"It was still stupid."
Arcturus grinned.
"I know."
THIRD PERSON LIMITED LUCIAN
He won.
By sitting down.
That shouldn't have worked.
But it did.
Because Kael hesitated.
And Kael hesitated because the universe wanted him to hesitate.
The hero's luck is stronger than I thought.
Stronger than the game suggested.
I need to account for that.
If I face him in the finals, I can't rely on skill alone.
I need to counter his luck.
And the only way to counter luck is to remove chance entirely.
Predictable patterns. Controlled environments. No room for randomness.
If nothing unexpected can happen, his luck has nothing to work with.
Simple.
Difficult to execute.
But simple.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED LYRA
Lyra watched from the stands, her hands clasped in her lap.
Arcturus won.
He actually won.
By sitting down.
That's the dumbest thing I've ever seen.
And also the smartest.
She looked across the arena to where Lucian was waiting in the competitor's area.
His match is next.
Against Ren.
He'll win easily.
Of course he will.
He's Lucian.
He always wins.
The thought made her stomach flutter.
Why does my stomach flutter when I think about him?
He's just a friend.
Just a teammate.
Just...
Lucian.
She shook her head.
Focus. Watch the matches. Support your friends.
That's all.
That's all it is.
GOD POV
"Third match: Lucian Von Cross versus Ren."
Ren walked onto the platform with slow, reluctant steps.
His face was pale. His hands were trembling.
Lucian walked onto the platform with calm, measured steps.
His face was relaxed. His hands were still.
They faced each other.
"Begin," Valoris said.
Ren raised his hand.
"I surrender."
The crowd murmured.
No one was surprised. Ren was a scout. He wasn't built for combat. Surrendering was the smart choice.
But still—there was something disappointing about it.
People had come to see fights.
Not surrenders.
Lucian nodded at Ren.
"Good decision."
"You would have destroyed me."
"Probably."
Ren laughed—a nervous, relieved sound.
"Next time, I'll train harder."
"Next time, I'll go easier."
They walked off the platform together.
The crowd applauded—polite, but unenthusiastic.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED LUCIAN
Too easy.
But that's fine.
Easy matches mean less attention.
Less attention means fewer questions.
Fewer questions means my mask stays intact.
He sat back down in the competitor's area and watched the remaining matches.
Match four: Mira versus a boy he didn't recognize. Mira won with a clever spell that turned the platform to ice, sending her opponent sliding into the boundary line.
Match five: Lyra versus a Crank fighter. Lyra lost. Badly. She lasted thirty seconds before being knocked off the platform. But she smiled afterward, and the crowd applauded her effort.
Match six: A girl with red hair versus a boy with no discernible talent. The girl won.
Match seven: A boy with a spear versus a girl with a bow. The boy won.
Match eight: Darius versus someone Lucian didn't bother to remember. Darius won in ten seconds.
The first round was over.
Sixteen competitors remained.
Lucian was one of them.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED ARCTURUS
Arcturus sat in the corner of the competitor's area, replaying his match in his head.
I sat down.
In the middle of a fight.
I sat down.
What was I thinking?
I wasn't thinking.
That's the problem.
I never think.
I just... do.
And somehow, it works out.
Why does it always work out?
Why am I so lucky?
And why does it feel like I'm not supposed to be?
"Hey."
He looked up.
Lucian was standing in front of him.
"Good match," Lucian said.
"It was stupid."
"It was creative."
"Same thing."
Lucian smiled. "Maybe. But creative people win. Stupid people lose. Which are you?"
Arcturus thought about it.
"I don't know."
"Then find out."
Lucian walked away.
Arcturus watched him go.
He's right, he thought. I need to find out.
But how?
GOD POV
The second round was announced at 11:00 AM.
ROUND 2 MATCHUPS:
Match 1: Darius Kane vs. Mira Silverton
Match 2: Arcturus vs. RedHaired Girl
Match 3: Lucian Von Cross vs. Spear Boy
Match 4: Winner of Match 7 vs. Winner of Match 8
Lucian studied the bracket.
Darius versus Mira.
Mira is smart. But Darius is strong.
She'll try to outthink him. He'll try to overpower her.
She might win. If she has time to prepare.
But she won't have time.
The matches are backtoback.
Darius will win.
Arcturus versus the redhaired girl.
I don't recognize her. She's probably not important.
He'll win.
Me versus Spear Boy.
He's Crank. Decent with his weapon. But predictable.
I'll win.
The finals will be me, Darius, Arcturus, and whoever wins the fourth match.
Three of us from Team 7.
The instructors will notice.
They'll start paying attention.
I need to be careful.
THIRD PERSON LIMITED SERAPHINA
Seraphina sat in the VIP section, surrounded by nobles and guild representatives.
She wasn't interested in them.
She was interested in the boy in the midnight blue uniform.
Lucian Von Cross.
His first match was a surrender. No information gained.
His second match will be against a spear user.
If he's as good as he seemed during our sparring session, he'll win easily.
But will he show his true skill?
Or will he hold back?
She watched him as he sat in the competitor's area, his expression calm, his posture relaxed.
He's hiding something.
I don't know what.
But I will find out.