Ahiro stood in the arena, the cheers of victory from his friends a distant echo in his ears. Despite their elation, he could barely summon the strength to acknowledge their support. Fatigue and pain held him captive; his body, a battleground of bruises, allowed only the use of his trusted spear as a makeshift crutch.
As the match concluded and the winner was declared, Mike's departure from the stadium seemed like a funeral march. His eyes, once ablaze with determination and his own ego, now reflected a void of emotions. He dreaded what awaited him beyond the arena walls. The tantalizing prospect of meeting his father, contingent upon victories in the Intra-department dual, was abruptly shattered by his unexpected defeat. The uncertainty of his father's reaction loomed like a storm on the horizon.
Meanwhile, a medical bot wheeled in a stretcher for Ahiro. The referee gently placed him on it, and he was guided to the infirmary. The hum of medical equipment accompanied his journey to a space where the bruises of victory would be tended to.
As the dose administered by the medics took effect, Ahiro succumbed to sleep. In the realm of dreams, the pain and fatigue that had gripped him began to loosen their hold. When he awoke, the room was bathed in a subdued light, and the oppressive weight that had hung over him had lifted.
His eyes opened to a familiar face. John, sitting by his bedside, stirred as Ahiro shifted. There was a weariness in John's gaze, a silent acknowledgement of the toll the battle had taken.
"Hey," John said, his voice hoarse from sleep. "You gave us a hell of a fright, buddy. How are you feeling?"
Ahiro managed a small smile. The pain lingered, but the triumph of the battle still resonated within him. The bruises, now adorned with bandages, were badges of honour—a testament to a hard-fought victory. The journey, though marked by pain, had left Ahiro changed, a warrior tempered by the crucible of the arena.
John shifted in his chair, his eyes conveying both relief and concern as he looked at Ahiro. "Hey, man. So how is the pain?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.
Ahiro managed a weary smile, his gaze shifting to the bandages that adorned his bruised limbs. "Better than yesterday, I suppose. What happened after I went out?"
John leaned back, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "You were out for a whole day, buddy. Missed your chance for the next round. Tough break."
Ahiro's brow furrowed. "A day? That long?" He was clearly grappling with the implications. he knew what it meant to miss a match but it was tough to accept.
John nodded solemnly. "Yeah, you were pretty banged up. But," he added, trying to inject a note of optimism, "you put on one hell of a show out there. Everyone's talking about it."
Ahiro's eyes softened, appreciating the sentiment. "Thanks, John. It means a lot."
Shifting in his seat, John continued, "While you were catching some shut-eye, the crew took turns watching over you. We didn't want you waking up alone in this sterile place, you know?"
Ahiro chuckled weakly. "I appreciate that, man. You guys didn't have to do that."
John grinned. "Well, we wanted to. Plus, it was pretty entertaining watching you snore."
Ahiro rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement breaking through the soreness. "I don't snore that loudly."
"Oh, believe me, you do," John replied with a laugh.
Ahiro then turned serious. "What about the next round? Am I completely out?"
John's expression shifted, a mix of sympathy and regret. "Yeah, mate. You're out for this season. But hey, there's always the next one. And the gang's still cheering for you."
Ahiro nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I'll come back stronger."
"That's the spirit!" John clapped him on the shoulder.
Ahiro winced, but a smile played on his lips. "Easy there, man. I'm still recovering. and thanks for being here, man. It means more than you know."
John gave him a nod, understanding passing between them. "Anytime, buddy. We're all in this together."
John glanced at his watch, his expression shifting. "Well, buddy, it's my time for the match. Wish me luck, and take care, alright?"
Ahiro nodded gratitude in his eyes. "All the best, John. Kick some ass out there."
After exchanging encouraging words, John left the room, the door closing behind him. Soon after, the door swung open again, and Melvin and Emily entered, their faces reflecting a mix of excitement and concern.
Melvin's eyes lit up as he greeted Ahiro, "Hey, buddy! You're looking better already!" His enthusiasm was contagious, and Emily's worried expression eased at the sight of Ahiro's recovery.
As the trio settled into a conversation, Ahiro's curiosity got the better of him. "Hey, Melvin, do you know what happened to Mike after the match?"
Melvin's expression shifted, the jovial smile fading. "Well, after he lost, I heard he left the academy. Some cars came and picked him up from the gate."
Ahiro furrowed his brow, recalling Mike's haunted demeanour after the defeat. "He looked like he had seen a ghost. His whole body was shaking, as if he feared the concept of losing itself."
Emily, her gaze thoughtful, interjected, "Do you know about the Kratos family?"
Ahiro shrugged. "I know they're influential, politically inclined."
Melvin's tone turned serious. "Yeah, they are. Unlike my Goldbell family, who are solely focused on financial power, the Kratos family is influential in both business and politics. They may not match Goldbell in terms of finance, but their political background is formidable."
Emily continued, "But here's the darker truth. When someone from the Kratos family doesn't make a name for themselves, they're essentially cast aside. Only winners matter to them. Anyone who couldn't carve out a reputation in Awakened Power, business, or politics is no longer considered Kratos."
Ahiro's eyes widened, absorbing the gravity of the revelation. Melvin's words carried a weight that hinted at the harsh reality within the Kratos family. "So, it's all or nothing for them. If you can't make a mark, you're erased from the family legacy."
Emily nodded solemnly. "It's a cutthroat world in their circle. The Kratos name only carries weight if you're a winner. It's a dark truth hidden behind their influence and power."