After the qualifying matches leading to the quarterfinals, Max was set to face a boy named Isaac, while Axel was mysteriously positioned on the opposite side of the bracket, as if orchestrated for them to meet in the final.
Looking at the bracket, the spectators, who were passing time placing bets, began picking their own champions.
"Alright, everyone! Today, we witnessed some amazing fights, but you haven't seen anything yet, because we've reached the quarterfinals!" announced the host, pausing for dramatic effect.
"That means things are about to get very interesting. Out of these eight great fighters, one will be crowned champion!"
"At this stage, keep your eyes on the arena!"
As the host kicked off the quarterfinals, the first to fight was a boy nicknamed Silva.
"Aren't you going to watch the fight?" Devon, who was busy checking her phone, looked up at Max as he approached, putting her phone aside.
"I've analyzed them enough already. Since these are just individual matches now, and they don't interest me much, I'll let them pass quickly while keeping my mind calm." Max needed time to meditate outside the ring. Even someone like Devon tended to step away from the action whenever Max wasn't in the arena.
"Miguel is making money betting. I told him to only bet on you, but he didn't listen. I think he's going to lose everything," said Devon, glancing at a lively Miguel chatting with a boy with fluffy hair.
Max followed her gaze, seeing Miguel enjoying himself, and shook his head. "Luck in these kinds of bets relies heavily on chance. Without stats, information, or fight histories to review, even the experts can't pick a clear winner."
"Betting is something I want no part of," Devon added before pulling up a note on her phone. "Since you're not interested in learning about your opponents, I think the strongest ones are Axel, Silva, Isaac, and, based on their performance, Ian. But looking at the fight stats, no one has a better finish rate than you."
Max glanced at the data and nodded. His goal was to win the tournament with minimal damage since he suspected the final fight would require more effort than planned to secure victory.
"Winner, Silva!" When the winner was announced, the boy named Silva advanced to the semifinals, much to Devon's excitement, as she once again emphasized her knack for analysis.
The crowd was going wild. The fights were becoming increasingly brutal, with opponents aiming to incapacitate each other.
But Max, who pretended to enjoy himself, wasn't truly entertained.
Not since he had heard that his long-awaited revenge might finally be within reach. Before he had even contemplated committing crimes, driven solely by the desire to face those who had taken his parents from him. But achieving that seemed as impossible as reaching the moon with a ladder.
That's why Max distanced himself. He needed to think, to stay focused, and not resort to violence under any circumstances.
No one but himself should suffer for the misfortune of his life.
"Max, it's your turn," Devon's voice snapped Max out of his trance.
After the first two quarterfinal matches, it was now his turn, and Max was called alongside Isaac.
"To your corners. Ready?"
Max, with a cold expression, stared at his opponent, who returned the gaze calmly. Then the referee signaled the start of the match.
"Fight!"