The lounge buzzed with excitement and anticipation as the Stronghold team gathered, each face a mixture of eagerness and apprehension. For the first time in years, three out of the four semifinalists hailed from Stronghold, a feat that hadn't gone unnoticed by any of them.John leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the group. "So, it's Stronghold dominating the top four. Not bad, huh?"Victor grinned, nudging Gordon with his elbow. "Not bad at all. But let's not forget it means we'll have to fight each other. Hope you're ready for the spotlight, Gordon."Gordon forced a chuckle, but there was an unease in his gaze. "Yeah, sure. Spotlight." His voice trailed off, and he glanced away, his confidence cracking under the pressure.Alex, who was resting his chin on his hand, looked around, a relaxed but determined glint in his eye. "Guess that leaves me with Collin. And from what we've seen, he doesn't pull punches." He shrugged, flashing his usual laid-back smile, though it was tinged with a sense of anticipation. "No complaints here, though. The harder the fight, the better."Isabel tilted her head thoughtfully. "Just be careful. Collin's... different. He enjoys the fight a bit too much." She hesitated, recalling the precision and almost playful malice with which Collin had toyed with his opponents. "You saw how he fought last time. He doesn't just want to win—he wants to break his opponent's spirit."John gave Alex an encouraging grin. "No one's breaking you down that easily, though, Alex. Right?"Alex chuckled, punching John's arm lightly. "As if I'd let some guy from Mira take me down that easily."Anne, watching the group, tried to keep spirits high. "Stronghold's got this. I mean, three out of the four finalists? That's huge." Her gaze drifted to Gordon, who had been quiet since they'd sat down. "Gordon, you've got this, right?"Gordon shifted, his eyes narrowing as they locked with John's across the table. "Sure, I've got this," he replied, his voice holding a trace of hesitation. He wanted to sound confident, but the thought of facing John gnawed at him. For all his bluster and confidence, he couldn't ignore the thought that he had barely scraped by Victor.John noticed the flicker of doubt in Gordon's eyes and gave him a firm nod. "Let's make this a real match then, yeah?""Count on it," Gordon replied, though the words felt hollow, even to himself.They continued discussing strategies, each of them preparing mentally for what lay ahead. But Gordon's thoughts were miles away, his mind plagued by the recent encounters with Emory and Abbot, the inexplicable presence of the Messenger, and his own self-doubt. It was as if something within him was unraveling, and he struggled to regain control.Elsewhere, in one of the Academy's quieter hallways, Benji and Chris stood together, discussing the upcoming semifinals. A mixture of pride and caution painted their expressions as they analyzed their students' performances and strategies."Three from Stronghold," Chris said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "It's been a while since we had that kind of strength in the lineup. You've trained them well, Benji."Benji nodded thoughtfully. "They've got potential, that's for sure. But this tournament will test them beyond what they've experienced so far. Especially Gordon."Chris's eyebrow arched, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You're worried about your boy, Gordon? Surprising, considering your usual confidence."Benji shrugged, his gaze distant. "He's strong, but something's off. There's a vulnerability there that he's trying to bury, but it's affecting him." He turned to Chris, his expression serious. "And John's no easy opponent. Gordon's going to have to figure things out quickly if he wants to stand a chance."Chris leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Well, you've got three students in the semis, Benji. Clearly, you're doing something right." A hint of rivalry gleamed in his eyes. "But don't get too comfortable. Victor and Isabel will be right there if any of them slip up."Benji shot Chris a dry look. "You're still holding on to that rivalry, aren't you?"Chris laughed, a genuine sound that echoed down the empty hallway. "Can't help it. Old habits die hard. Remember our tournament days? That last match?"Benji smirked. "How could I forget? You still haven't let me live it down."Before they could reminisce further, a soft voice interrupted them. Myra stepped into view, her piercing eyes focused on them both. "Benji. Chris," she greeted, her tone polite but distant. "Enjoying the memories?"Chris straightened, giving her a courteous nod. "Myra. Here to check on your student?"She nodded, a faint, inscrutable smile crossing her face. "Yes, Collin's ready for the semifinals. But, Benji, I'd keep an eye on your students if I were you. They might need all the help they can get."Benji frowned, crossing his arms. "What are you trying to say?"Myra's gaze flickered with a glint of mystery. "Only that Collin isn't one to take lightly. He's more prepared than any of you might think. The semifinals are just another step for him."Benji narrowed his eyes, reading between the lines. "If you think he can throw off my students, you're mistaken."Myra tilted her head thoughtfully. "Perhaps." She paused, watching Benji with something that almost resembled curiosity. "Benji, I see much of you in your students. That fierce resilience. But also... the weight of something unspoken. Be careful. Not everything can be handled through strength alone."With a final, cryptic smile, she turned and walked away, leaving both instructors with her words hanging heavily in the air.Chris watched her go, his brow furrowed. "I don't trust her, Benji. There's something about her... about Collin, too. He's no ordinary fighter."Benji was silent, Myra's words echoing in his mind. "Maybe not. But I trust my students."