Chapter 191

Only five groups would remain to battle the next day.

That truth pressed down to each participant’s adding to the pressure, all of them were close to winning it all. The earlier chaos of the tournament had burned itself out, leaving behind something sharper, more deliberate. 

Winter sunlight slanted low over the stone walls, pale and cold, catching on drifting motes of sand that still hung in the air from previous matches. The crowd remained lively, voices layered atop one another in a constant roar, but there was a difference now. The cheers had sharpened. Every shout carried expectation.

This stage of the tournament was no accident.

There would be no lucky draws, no sudden escapes. The remaining teams would be placed exactly where they belonged. Two teams would fall and be forced to claw for fourth and fifth. Two would rise and clash for second and third. And one who would stand alone, untouched by loss, would be crowned as the champion of this year.

Kana’s group had drawn the cruelest path.

Mica.

Kana remembered. She stood among the crowd rather than the participants’ tunnel, cloaks pulled tight against the winter air as they watched the fight unfold below. Mica’s group moved with terrifying efficiency. There was no hesitation in their advance, no wasted skill or misplaced step. Each motion fed cleanly into the next, like pieces of a machine designed for violence.

A charge. No. The charge came in from one person.

Blades rang against her enchanted metallic gauntlets. 

Then the opposing group broke.

The surrender came so quickly that the crowd took a heartbeat to realize the match had ended. A ripple of surprised cheers followed, louder than expected, as if the spectators were trying to convince themselves they had witnessed something extraordinary rather than inevitable.

Mica rolled her shoulders once, casually, like an athlete loosening muscles after a warm-up. She wasn’t breathing hard. Her stance never faltered. It was the posture of someone who had not been pushed, not even close.

Yuri swallowed as Kana told her what Mica’s group was capable of.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her cloak as if grounding herself.

“What should we do with them?” she asked.

Kana didn’t answer right away.

Her mind still remembered Mica’s calm movements as officials reset the field. Kana’s mind was already racing, measuring distances, recalling skills, counting seconds that did not yet exist.

Then she turned slowly and looked at Boris.

“You think you can defeat her?”

The winter air fogged Boris’ breath as he exhaled.  “She’s fast,” he said after a moment. “Probably, almost as fast as you. Those buffs she’s using.. are quite tricky..”

He paused, jaw tightening. “But I should be capable of holding her,” he added. “A few minutes, at least.”

He didn’t promise victory. He promised time. Kana couldn’t blame him. With all those powerful buffs.. even she wasn’t sure she could win against her. How did Ryle’s group defeat her last year?

Yuri stiffened as realization came to her,“Are you sure this will work?” she asked quickly, turning to Kana. “A battle of attrition against them? They’re older than us. Not just older—experienced. Way older.”

Kana’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

Her mind ran through the numbers again. Mica, without question, had reached level 10. So had their [Knight], whose movements screamed of dungeon experience and real combat rather than academy drills. He carried himself like someone who had bled and kept fighting.

But the others?

Strong. Polished. Dangerous. But not yet at that threshold. They were close, probably around level 6 to 9. Their raw stats would rival them.. But they didn’t gain a new skill or evolve one. Unlike them.

“That’s true,” Kana said quietly. She let the words settle.

Yuri’s shoulders tensed.

“In a short fight,” Kana admitted, “we lose. Clean engagement, direct clash—we lose.”

Then she met Yuri’s gaze, steady and unflinching.

“But if we stretch it. If we force them to spend, to react, to make choices they don’t want to make…”

Her voice hardened.

“They should fall first.”

Attrition.

Slow. Grinding. Unforgiving. It would all depend on how Boris would keep her.

Kana allowed herself a small, sharp grin. She said, “But do your best. This fight decides third place.”

She exhaled, breath fogging in the cold.

“After that, we surrender the next match.”

She expected relief. She expected groans or laughter, maybe even celebration at the thought of rest. Instead, silence answered her.

Boris said nothing, already bracing himself.

Adam nodded once, eyes distant.

Rin’s expression shone with a dangerous, eager focus.

Yuri looked torn, afraid and resolved warring behind her eyes.

And Suri—

Suri was smiling. Not wide. Not playful. Probably still revisiting the flash performance she did earlier.

…..

The final day of the tournament arrived without ceremony.

Winter pressed heavily against the academy grounds, the cold seeping into stone and bone alike. Even beneath the coliseum, in the wide basement corridors reserved for participants, the air felt sharper, thinner. Every footstep echoed longer than it should have, as if the place itself were holding its breath.

Kana walked beside Suri through the passageways, her pace steady, her thoughts anything but. Yesterday’s plans replayed endlessly in her mind, each branch leading to the same narrow path. Third place or nothing. Survival through restraint. Endurance over brilliance.

They found the others gathered near the familiar corner of the basement.

Kana stopped.

What she saw made her chest tighten.

Dark shadows clung beneath their eyes, unmistakable even in the dim torchlight. Faces that had been confident just yesterday now carried the dull strain of sleeplessness. Muscles looked tight, shoulders stiff, movements slower than they should have been. This wasn’t the fatigue of battle. This was the fatigue of anticipation.

Only Suri broke the pattern.

She stood just behind Kana, quietly munching on something wrapped in parchment, completely unconcerned. Her eyes were bright. Awake. Almost cheerful. A strange contrast against the worn expressions of the rest.

Kana exhaled slowly.

“Did you guys even sleep?” she muttered, her voice low but edged with disbelief.

No one answered.

Some avoided her gaze. Others stared at the stone floor. One or two shifted uncomfortably. Kana took the silence for what it was. She didn’t scold them. There was no point. Fear before a decisive battle was as exhausting as the fight itself, and she knew it better than most.

Instead, her hand slipped into her pocket. Halfway through the motion, the movement redirected, fingers dipping into her [Inventory] instead. One by one, small vials appeared in her palm, glass catching faint torchlight.

Stamina potions.

She stepped forward, placing one into each of their hands.

“I hope this helps,” Kana said quietly. “Drink it before the battle begins.”

Her tone was calm, but worry threaded through it. The rules allowed stamina potions before and after combat, not during. They nodded, some murmuring thanks, others simply clutching the vials as if they were lifelines.

Kana straightened, about to say more, when hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Toby came running in a familiar sight, breath fogging in the cold air, his expression tight.

“Listen,” he said, barely stopping in front of them. “I have another piece of bad news.”

The group stiffened as one. Kana felt it before he said it. A tightening in her chest. A familiar, unwelcome certainty.

“We’ll be the first team to fight.”

The words landed heavily, except for Noble, all of them muttered curses under their breath.

No time to observe. No chance to gather information from others’ mistakes. No easing into the rhythm of the arena. Just straight from the tunnel into the eyes of the crowd, with winter air biting at their lungs and the strongest opponents waiting ahead.

Silence followed. Somewhere above them, the roar of the coliseum swelled, distant but alive, like a massive creature awakening. Kana closed her eyes for a brief moment.

…

Surprisingly, the announcer returned for the final day of the tournament.

His voice boomed across the coliseum, amplified by enchanted stone, rising and falling with practiced ease as he fed the crowd’s hunger. Each word was polished to stir anticipation, to remind everyone that this was no longer a student exercise, but the threshold where names were remembered or forgotten.

The crowd answered him eagerly.

When the two teams emerged from opposite tunnels, the noise swelled into a living thing. Winter sunlight spilled into the arena, glinting off armor, staves, and enchanted gear as sand shifted beneath careful steps.

Kana’s group entered together, steady but tense.

Mica’s group entered the same way. Mica herself stood out immediately.

Unlike the others, who glanced at the crowd or their opponents, she kept her eyes forward, her expression hard and focused. There was no excitement on her face. No impatience. Just intent. The look of someone who had already decided how this would end.

Feels like she’s a different person out there.

Both teams huddled briefly at the edges of the arena, voices low, final gestures exchanged. Fingers tightened around weapons. There would be no room for hesitation once this began.

The signal rang.

The sound cracked across the arena like a starting gun.

Mica’s group moved instantly.

A barrier rose, shimmering blue as it formed a curved shield around their rear line. Kana recognized the work of a specialist [Mage], someone trained specifically for layered defenses. Inside the barrier, their support units repositioned, calm and protected.

Buffs followed in quick succession. Light flared. Symbols flashed and vanished. Strength, speed, reinforcement. Everything flowed toward a single point.

Mica.

A [Knight] stepped forward to anchor the frontline, shield planted firmly, acting less as a spearhead and more as a wall. The rest of the team remained behind the barrier, disciplined, unmoving.

It was the same formation they had used before.

Only tighter. More defensive.They weren’t taking chances today, a countermeasure probably towards Suri’s new skill.

While her team held position, Mica moved.

She broke into a run.

No shout. No flourish. Just motion.

Her feet barely disturbed the sand as she closed the distance, speed building unnaturally fast. One moment she was near the barrier, the next she was halfway across the arena, muscles working with terrifying efficiency.

Boris stepped forward to meet her.

Yuri’s buffs settled over him just in time, faint light sinking into his limbs as he tightened his grip on his spear. He advanced steadily taking his time.

But the difference between them was immediate.

Boris moved in a defensive stance. Mica moved like a released arrow.

She didn’t slow. Didn’t adjust. She leapt like a feline.

The jump was sudden, explosive, carrying her high and forward in an arc that felt wrong for a human body. Her silhouette cut across the light, and for a brief instant Kana felt a flicker of unease she hadn’t expected.

It reminded her of Shai. That same animal-like precision. That same terrifying certainty of landing exactly where she intended.

Mica descended toward Boris, momentum screaming toward impact.

And the real battle finally began.

Post note:

The next part is in a different POV.

Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂