The second exam was simple in theory: a duel. One-on-one combat in the ring. No tricks, no fancy rules. Knock your opponent down, and you win. Simple.
But the stakes? Those were anything but simple. Out of the fifty of us who passed the written exam, only twenty-five would make it through to the next round. And in the end, only three would become knights of the Tàh. Three. Out of fifty. The odds weren't just against us—they were practically mocking us.
Still, a duel was something I could understand. It wasn't like the first exam with its cryptic question and hidden expectations. No, this was straightforward. A fight. Strength versus strength. Skill versus skill. Easy to grasp—but far from easy to win.
A screen flickered to life, hovering in midair like some magical television. It listed the matchups for the duels, and my heart thudded as I searched for my name. There it was: *Ria Saito vs. Sugasuchi Isorumi.*
I didn't know who he was, but the name alone sent a shiver down my spine. It sounded… intimidating. Someone strong, no doubt. My hands clenched. So this was my opponent.
The first match began almost immediately. Yazunaka Hidenori versus Tateshi Binjigoro. Two men stepped into the ring, their expressions cold and focused. I leaned forward, eager to see what kind of techniques these people would use. Maybe I could learn something—an edge, a strategy, anything.
The bell rang, and the fight began.
It ended in less than a minute.
Tateshi Binjigoro didn't just win—he obliterated his opponent. One moment they were staring each other down, and the next, Yazunaka was on the ground, sparks of electricity crackling around him. The crowd erupted into murmurs, and I sat there frozen, trying to process what I'd just seen.
Lightning user. Tateshi was a lightning user. And not just any lightning user—he was fast. Too fast. I swallowed hard. Was this the level of strength I'd be up against? Could I even hope to compete with that?
The next match started, but I barely paid attention. My mind was still stuck on Tateshi's overwhelming speed and power. What chance did I have against people like him? What chance did *any* of us have?
"Hey."
A voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see a boy standing in front of me. He had dark hair, but his eyes—his eyes were red. Not just a faint red tint, but a vivid, burning crimson that made him look like he'd walked straight out of a nightmare.
He stared at me, unblinking. "I'll beat you," he said, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.
That's when it hit me. This was *him.* Sugasuchi Isorumi. My opponent.
I didn't respond. What was there to say? His confidence was unnerving, but I refused to let it show. I clenched my fists, forcing my nerves to settle. He smirked and walked away, leaving me sitting there, stewing in a mix of anxiety and determination.
The next match was announced: *Rakuhata Nagahi vs. Tozuki Sashai.*
Rakuhata. That name carried weight. Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"It's Lord Rakuhata's son," someone muttered behind me.
"I heard he's strong," another voice added.
Strong? That was an understatement. When Rakuhata Nagahi stepped into the ring, the entire atmosphere shifted. He radiated arrogance, his golden armor glinting in the sunlight. He didn't need to say anything for us to know what he thought of himself. His posture, his swagger—it all screamed, *I'm better than you.*
The bell rang, and the match began.
It ended just as quickly as Tateshi's match. A blinding flash of gold light filled the ring, and when it faded, Tozuki was on the ground, unconscious. Rakuhata Nagahi stood tall, his expression smug.
Two people now. Two people who had won their matches in an instant. Tateshi Binjigoro. Rakuhata Nagahi. Both of them had demonstrated overwhelming power, and I hadn't even stepped into the ring yet. My stomach churned. What was I even doing here?
The announcer's voice cut through my thoughts: *"Ria Saito versus Sugasuchi Isorumi."*
My heart skipped a beat. It was my turn.
I stepped into the ring, my legs feeling heavier than usual. Across from me, Sugasuchi was already waiting. He looked calm, almost bored, as if this was just another routine fight for him. His smirk widened as I approached.
The bell rang, and he attacked immediately.
"Fire Technique: Crimson Arrow!" he shouted.
A blazing arrow of fire shot toward me, faster than I could've imagined. I barely managed to dodge, the heat brushing against my cheek. My heart pounded. If I'd been even a fraction slower, I would've been hit.
"Focus in a fight!" Sugasuchi taunted, launching another arrow. And another. And another. They came at me in rapid succession, forcing me to dodge over and over again. My movements were clumsy, desperate. I could feel the eyes of the crowd on me, judging me. Watching. Somewhere out there, Captain Dai and Thalia were watching too. I couldn't let them down. Not after everything they'd done for me.
"If all you're going to do is dodge, you might as well give up!" Sugasuchi shouted. His grin widened, his confidence palpable. "My technique is superior to yours."
I gritted my teeth. He was fast, and his fire attacks were relentless, but there was one thing I noticed: he was predictable. His attacks followed a rhythm, a pattern. And he was far too confident. He thought he'd already won.
"You think so?" I shot back, forcing myself to sound calm.
He didn't respond, instead firing another barrage of flaming arrows. I dodged again, my mind racing. I couldn't keep this up forever. I needed to do something. Something bold. Something unexpected.
Then, an idea struck me. It was risky, reckless even—but it might work. I remembered a manga I'd read a long time ago. In it, the protagonist had done something unconventional, something no one had expected. Maybe I could try it here.
I stopped running.
I planted my feet firmly on the ground, my eyes locked on Sugasuchi. He hesitated, confusion flashing across his face. That hesitation was all I needed.
I clenched my fist, focusing all my energy into it. I could feel it building, more than I'd ever summoned before. My arm trembled under the strain, but I didn't stop. I charged forward, my fist glowing with raw power.
"What are you—" Sugasuchi started, but it was too late.
I swung my fist with everything I had.
He escaped my hold with ease. Not only that—he caught my right arm with his left. Before I even had time to react, he unleashed a fire technique. A *boom* echoed through the ring, and his hand collided with my chest like a hammer. The force sent me flying across the arena, my back slamming into the ground with a dull thud. Pain shot through me, sharp and immediate, but I gritted my teeth and stood up, swaying slightly.
"You think I'd fight someone I haven't researched?" he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. His smirk was infuriating, like he thought this fight was already over. "Don't make me laugh. There's no way you can win. Just give up."
Give up? Not a chance.
I clenched my fists and charged at him again. It was reckless, sure, but I couldn't just stand there. He was ready for me, though. Another strike, another explosion of pain, and I was on the ground again before I even realized what had happened. My body screamed at me to stop, but I ignored it. I pushed myself up and rushed him again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, his blows sent me crashing to the ground. My vision blurred. My mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. I could feel it dripping down my chin, soaking into my shirt. My body was battered, bruised, and beaten, but I refused to stay down. I couldn't stay down. I wouldn't let him win.
But this wasn't just stubbornness. I had a plan. A desperate, risky plan that would only work if I could hold out long enough. This guy was strong—his attacks were overwhelming—but I'd noticed something. He wasn't as fast as Lightning or as durable as the gold-haired guy I'd fought before. His strength was all offense, no defense.
If I could land one clean hit, just one, I'd win.
I staggered to my feet again, my legs trembling under my weight. This time, I charged at him with everything I had. His fist slammed into my face, and I felt the impact reverberate through my skull. Blood splattered across the ground, and I crumpled to my knees. For a moment, I thought I might pass out. My head was spinning, and my body felt like it was on fire.
But I got back up. Slowly, painfully, I got back up.
The crowd was silent now, probably wondering why I was still standing. Even my opponent looked confused. His smirk faltered for a moment before he shook his head, like he was brushing off a stray thought. I clenched my fists, ignoring the pain. My plan was almost ready. All I needed was one more opening.
I charged him again, but this time, I did something different. Just as I reached him, I vanished.
His eyes widened in surprise. He spun around, scanning the ring for me. Flames erupted around him, forming a protective barrier. A recovery flame, huh? I'd seen it before. Thalia had drilled me on techniques like this during our endless study sessions. I hated those lessons at the time, but now, they were finally paying off.
While he stood there, tense and uncertain, I dug through the hole I'd been working on. With every fall, I'd been breaking the ground beneath me, bit by bit, creating a tunnel just big enough to hide in. He hadn't noticed a thing. Now it was time to strike.
I emerged from the underground, my fist clenched tight. This was it—my one chance. I poured every ounce of Tàh I had left into my attack and aimed for the center of his head.
My fist connected with a sickening crunch. The force of the blow sent him flying across the ring, smashing through a nearby building. He didn't get back up.
The crowd erupted into cheers, but I barely heard them. My body felt like it was made of lead, every step back to my seat a struggle. But I'd won. Somehow, I'd won.
"How'd you pull that off?" someone asked as I collapsed into my chair, my chest heaving.
"Sorry, but I can't tell," I said, smirking faintly. I pulled out a tube of TRC—Technique Revival Cream—and rubbed it on my lips. The cool sensation was a welcome relief, soothing the pain and restoring a bit of my Tàh.
But the guy wasn't finished talking. "I know what you did. You figured out that idiot had more offense than defense, right? You made yourself look weak on purpose, took a few hits to make it convincing. Then, while you were getting knocked around, you were digging that hole. When it was ready, you vanished, used his lack of vigilance, and landed a surprise attack. Am I wrong?"
He wasn't wrong. Well, mostly. "Looks like you figured it out," I said with a wry smile. What he didn't know was that those hits weren't just for show. They *hurt*. A lot.