The next morning, Shiverstone lay under a blanket of snow. March winds still cut to the bone.

At the Olympic Sports Center, the stands were already packed. Inside one of the private viewing rooms, an elderly man appeared beside Tristan.

"Tristan. Long time." The man smiled, removing his hat as he sat.

"Principal!"

"Mr. William!"

Several academy principals rose immediately, bowing with respect to the elder who had appeared so suddenly.

Only Tristan stayed seated—though even he looked surprised. "William, what dragged you all the way out here?"

William smiled warmly, motioning for the others to sit before settling down next to Tristan. The principals relaxed. William wasn't just anyone—he was the head of Stormwatch Academy, a seventh-level Divine Power Realm master.

And he was more than that: most of the academy principals in the room were Stormwatch alumni. William had been their original principal.

"Came to see the prodigy your academy produced," William said lightly.

Tristan frowned, lips twitching. "You've gotten slicker since moving to Everton."

William only shrugged, still grinning. "Stop teasing. If we win today, I won't be showing you any mercy."

Tristan turned his eyes to the big screen. "You're already claiming victory before the fight even begins? Thick-skinned as ever."

Their banter silenced the room. No one else dared cut in—only Tristan could speak to William so casually.

Back in the day, the two had fought side by side, then both turned to education. The difference was Tristan had no taste for politics, while William—now a big name in Everton's Ministry of Education—couldn't avoid it.

"If I acted polite, you'd just call me fake," William said cheerfully. "No need for pretense. You know the roster—Terrence alone is enough to crush most challengers."

Tristan snorted but didn't argue.

"Your Axel, though… he's something else. Already a Level 4 as a freshman. In three years, he'll dominate every martial arts competition." William's tone carried a trace of awe.

Still, his confidence in this match didn't waver. Axel might have potential, but Terrence and his generation were already legends at Stormwatch.

"Axel is talented, sure. But he was molded by the Whisper Syndicate," Tristan said evenly. "We just happened to take him in."

William nodded. "After this, some of the best need to head to the military. Jerome, Sethan, now Axel… Awakened only sharpen themselves on the edge of life and death."

Despite the rivalry between Everton and Shiverstone, the two old friends weren't hostile.

As the massive screen flickered to life, the room went silent.

The finals were about to begin.

.....

Atop the sixteen isolated peaks, the air was buzzing with more energy than usual. The five-minute countdown to the match had begun.

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On Everton Peak, a man dressed in gray and black, arrogance flickering in his eyes, tossed a rock in one hand like it was a toy.

"Listen up. We've got two rock spinal cords. As agreed—one goes to Terrence, one goes to me. And as a reward, I promise you this: once this is over, you can come to our Brighthelm family anytime to claim them."

He had barely finished when the man beside him—sharp-eyed, scholarly, far more restrained—sighed. "Vaughn, keep it down. The fight hasn't even started yet, and half the peaks nearby can hear you."

Vaughn only smirked. "So what? Let them hear. Percy, you just has your rules too much. Isn't that right, Terrence?"

Both men turned toward a figure in a fiery red leather jacket. He wasn't listening. Terrence—Starcrest family's representative and the number-one ranked member—was busy throwing punches into the air, each blow cracking like a whip.

A long half-minute later, Terrence exhaled with a satisfied grin. "God, that feels good. Punching always feels good. The longer I go, the better it gets. Hahaha."

When he finally noticed his teammates' complicated looks, he blinked. "What? You guys aren't practicing? My dad always said you've got to warm up before a fight—otherwise you'll fuck up your joints."

Maybe Terrence was the only guy alive who treated combat like a goddamn workout game.

Vaughn cleared his throat and repeated himself. "Oh. Right." Terrence waved him off. "Anyway, when we get in there, leave Yara to me. Have Axel toss her a few health boosts before I go at it. I can't wait."

His eyes gleamed, burning with excitement. Truth was, the one he had wanted to fight most was Quincy from Hollow Fortress Academy—both of them melee fighters, built for raw, open brawls. But with Quincy already eliminated, Yara would have to do. Not that he was disappointed—yesterday he'd seen her terrifying strength, that power surging from her Axel awakening.

The thought alone made him itch to throw another set of punches.

"You two are unbelievable," Percy muttered, shaking his head. One treated the enemy like an afterthought, the other treated the whole damn match like a joke.

"Relax, Percy. We've got this," one of the two psychic awakeners behind him reassured. The other nodded, and Percy allowed himself a breath of relief.

Then Terrence turned back, grinning. "Oh, and you two—watch yourselves. You're not beating Yara. Umar's no pushover either; close combat's his thing, so stay sharp."

The pair stiffened, their mouths twitching. Anyone else in school said that to their face and they'd blow up on the spot. But this was Terrence—Starcrest's golden son. With his family's influence wrapped around the Senate and half of Krythos's departments, what the hell could they do? Besides, they were used to his way of talking.

"It's starting."

A powerful suction roared out of the Landscape Scroll, dragging the Bloodstone Warfare team and the Stormwatch Academy team into its depths.

In the center of the sixteen peaks, the scroll unfurled, its surface painting the scene of battle as the two sides vanished.

A flash of white light—then nothing.

Axel staggered, cold biting into his skin. His breath misted. Snow stretched endlessly around him, the plain a pale, merciless wilderness like the far North. In the distance, a primeval forest rose, dark and dense, a wall of ancient green against the white void.

Before he could take another step, a solemn voice rolled down from the heavens.

"This duel has no time limit. The battle continues until all members of one side are eliminated."

As the echo faded, the names of all ten fighters blazed across the gray sky.

"Both teams should have scattered," Axel muttered, narrowing his eyes. For him, that was damn good news.

If this had been a straight 5v5 arena match, Stormwatch's raw power would've crushed Bloodstone Warfare. Even if he played every card he had, victory wouldn't be certain—unless he risked devouring the Life Crystal.

But now? With everyone split up, the rules had changed. If he could pick off one or two enemies early, the tide of battle would be his to control.

With that thought, Axel tore through the snow, lungs burning. Alone, he didn't stand a chance against their full team—but if he moved fast enough, the others wouldn't have a choice but to follow his lead.

......

"Ah, so that's the format?"

On the Landscape Scroll floating above the sixteen peaks, the eliminated fourteen teams leaned in, eyes glued to the shifting battle scenes. The scroll zoomed between scattered players, switching vantage points like a living tapestry.

Atop Eagle's Crest Command's peak, five figures watched more intently than most. At their center stood a tall man in a cyan robe, a folding fan resting casually in his hand.

"Sergio, does this give Bloodstone Warfare any shot at winning?" one of them asked. Instantly, all eyes turned to him.

If Axel had been there, he would've sighed, finally finding someone whose looks could rival Miller's. Sergio looked like a man painted straight from some forgotten era—long black hair spilling past his temples, tall frame, star-bright eyes, and a faint smile that never left his lips.

"If Bloodstone Warfare's lucky enough to run into their opponents early—and they manage to wipe out everyone but Terrence—then yes, there's a chance."

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