Charles lay on a comfortable bed in the Storm Clan's medical wing, a stark contrast to the chaos of the arena.

The room was modern, with polished stone walls lit by crystal lamps casting a soft, warm glow.

The air smelled of medicinal herbs and ointments, and a thick rug muffled footsteps on the floor.

A table held neatly arranged medical tools, a couple of cushioned chairs sat nearby, and a large window revealed the rain outside, though the glass was treated to dampen the storm's roar.

A strange machine in the corner hummed softly.

Everything in the room was designed for comfort and recovery—a luxury Charles hadn't expected after the arena's brutality.

He was surrounded by three of the young women from the medical team, all in light blue tunics.

The one with the brown braid gently massaged his shoulders, easing the tension lingering from the fight.

Another, with short blonde hair, offered him cherries from a wooden bowl, carefully placing them in his mouth.

"Here you go, Rian Cole," she said with a smile, her tone brimming with respect.

The third, with dark skin and green eyes, took away an empty glass that had held grape juice Charles had downed.

"More juice, Master Cole?" she asked, leaning toward him slightly.

Charles couldn't believe it.

Just minutes ago, he was trapped in a fiery circle with his life at 5/100, and now he was being treated like royalty.

"No, thanks," he said, flashing a tired smile. "I'm good for now."

It felt weird to be the center of so much attention, but he wasn't about to complain.

The women handled him with a mix of professionalism and awe, always calling him "Cole" in a tone that made it clear they saw his surname as a badge of honor.

'This ain't half bad,' he thought, letting the woman with the braid keep working on his shoulders. 'I could get used to this.'

But the calm didn't last.

The door swung open with a bang, and Lira stormed in, her black tunic soaked from the rain.

Her blue eyes scanned the scene, and she frowned at the sight of the three women hovering around Charles.

The tension on her face was obvious, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Are you done treating him?" Lira asked, her voice sharp enough to cut glass, making the women straighten instantly.

The woman with the braid, who seemed to be the group's leader, responded with respect but firmly.

"Not yet, Miss Lira," she said, keeping her gaze lowered. "We're still applying ointments and need to run a few more tests to assess his injuries. That fight was… intense, to say the least."

Lira crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes.

"If that's all, you can leave," she said, her voice colder now. "I have another medical team ready to take over."

The blonde woman, still holding the bowl of cherries, stepped forward, her face showing surprise.

"With all due respect, Miss Lira," she said, raising her voice slightly, "the fighters' health post-match is our responsibility. We can't leave without finishing our work."

Lira raised an eyebrow, her gaze hardening.

"Are you challenging my authority?" she asked, taking a step toward the woman.

Her tone was low, but the threat in her words was unmistakable.

The room fell into a tense silence, and the other two women exchanged nervous glances.

The blonde opened her mouth, clearly wanting to defend her stance.

"No, miss, we're just trying—" she started, but Lira cut her off.

"Three," Lira said, starting to count, her voice slicing like a blade.

The women froze, and the one with the braid took a step back, eyes wide.

"Two," Lira continued, not breaking eye contact with the blonde, who now seemed to realize she'd crossed a line.

"One…"

Before Lira could hit zero, the woman with the braid took charge.

"We're leaving!" she exclaimed, gesturing quickly to the others. "Rian Cole, if you feel any discomfort, call us, okay? We'll be nearby."

The three women scrambled to gather their things, leaving the bowl of cherries and ointment jars on the table.

In less than ten seconds, they were out the door, closing it with a soft click.

Charles, still lying on the bed, met Lira's gaze.

The tension in the air was thick, and he wasn't in the mood for games.

"What the hell's your deal, Lira?" he asked, irritation creeping into his tone.

He propped himself up on his elbows, faking a wince as if the movement hurt more than it did.

"I just got out of a fight where I nearly burned to a crisp, and you come in scaring off the nurses?"

Lira stepped toward the bed, arms still crossed.

"What the hell were you thinking, Rian?" she shot back, her voice just as sharp. "That stunt at the end of the fight? Making a lightning bolt strike from the sky? That was insane! When did you decide that was a good idea?"

Charles frowned, a mix of annoyance and caution stirring in him.

'Shit, so she saw it,' he thought.

Lira was one of the few who knew about his lightning affinity, but he wasn't sure how much she suspected about him controlling the bolt.

"It wasn't a stunt," he said, keeping his voice low but firm. "It was… luck. The storm was right overhead, and the lightning just hit. I didn't plan it."

Lira stared at him, her blue eyes narrowed.

"Luck?" she repeated, her tone dripping with disbelief. "Rian, don't treat me like an idiot. No one's that lucky. First you beat Darion, then Syris, and now a lightning bolt saves you right when you're about to die? You think everyone's gonna buy that story?"

Charles clenched his teeth, feeling the weight of her stare.

'She's got a point,' he thought. 'This is starting to look suspicious.'

But he couldn't come clean, not entirely.

If others started connecting the dots, his secret could get out, and that'd be the end of him.

"Look, Lira," he said, sitting up fully on the bed, throwing in a grimace to keep up the act of pain. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm alive, I won, and now I'm here trying to rest. Can't you just let it go?"

Lira took another step, leaning in so their faces were closer.

"No, Rian, I can't let it go," she said, her voice low but intense. "You know why. People are starting to talk. Kain, for instance. I saw him in the stands, glaring at you like he wanted to rip your head off. He probably already thinks you're using witchcraft, and he's not the only one. If you keep pulling stunts like that, you're not just putting yourself in danger—you're risking the whole clan."

A chill ran down Charles's spine.

'Kain,' he thought, his stomach tightening.

He knew his cousin had never liked him, but he didn't expect him to be this close to sniffing out the truth.

"Kain's an idiot," Charles said, trying to sound nonchalant. "He's always looking for an excuse to come at me. He's got no proof of anything."

"For now," Lira shot back, straightening up. "But if you keep being this reckless, he won't need proof. People will start asking questions, and I can't protect you forever."

She paused, softening her tone slightly.

"Rian, I'm not saying you didn't do something incredible today. You took down two opponents no one expected you to beat. But you've gotta be more careful. For your own sake."

Charles looked at her, surprised by the shift in her tone.

For a moment, it seemed like Lira was genuinely worried about him, not just the clan's honor.

But before he could respond, she turned toward the door.

"I'm getting the other medical team," she said, her voice cold again. "Stay here and don't do anything else stupid."

As the door closed behind her, Charles sank back onto the bed, letting out a long sigh.

'This is getting messy,' he thought, staring at the ceiling.

The blue system tab lingered in his vision, reminding him of his new level.

[Level 7. Upgrade points available: 1.]

He wanted to use that point, but Lira's warning echoed in his head.

If Kain and others were starting to suspect witchcraft, any upgrade he chose would have to be subtle.

"System," he muttered, keeping his voice low. "Show me the upgrade options again."

[New upgrade options available:

Increase maximum Health. Increase maximum Energy. Unlock ability: Targeted Discharge (allows channeling lightning energy into a precise, short-range attack).

Recommendation: Increasing maximum Health or Energy will reduce exposure risk in future battles.]

Charles frowned, thinking it over.

'Max Health sounds safe,' he thought. 'If I've got more HP, I can take more hits without leaning so hard on the lightning.'

But the idea of Targeted Discharge was tempting.

A precise attack could give him an edge in future fights, but it might also give him away.

And just as he was about to make a choice, Lira burst back in, her face even more annoyed than before.

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