Raiden Alaric

Days blurred into weeks. Weeks into months. Most of my free time vanished into the void, training, school, sleep. Left just enough scraps for the things I used to enjoy. But not enough to actually enjoy them.

School life stayed... well, life.

I'd gotten used to the weight of the Anchors. To the point I didn't even notice them anymore. Now, at least, I can eat a sandwich without struggling with the wrapper.

I had a few friends I'd talk to here and there, but one person stood out: Irena.

She was still shy, but our conversations had grown past the awkward greetings. Bit by bit, she opened up. Now we talked almost daily.

Romcom arc unlocked? Yeah, that'd be something. Delightful change of pace.

But, of course, there's a tiny complication.

Irena's from the Aeridor Clan.

"What's a Clan?" you ask?

Picture a family tree with so many branches it needs its own forest. A clan is that. One massive, ancient lineage. The Aeridors aren't just a branch—they are the tree in some places. And the head of that tree? A Yellow-Ranked Ascendant.

Yep. Yellow Rank.

That's five tiers above Green. I'm not even awakened yet. So someone like me, with no shiny family crest or noble name, isn't even a consideration.

I know what you're thinking: "But Rai—forbidden love! People eat that shit up!"

Yeah. No.

It doesn't work like that here.

In this world, power matters. Clans like Aeridor don't marry for love. They marry for alliances, bloodlines, prestige. Irena probably already has a list of potential fiancés picked by her elders, maybe even a few cousins tossed in for flavor. Sound a little incest-y? Sure. But when your family tree wraps around two cities, it's less ew and more eh, who cares.

Oh, and about those three guys who messed with her and made her french kiss a tree? Turns out her family found out. She didn't give me details. She's not the type to share, but I can only imagine what went down. Whatever it was, it must've been bad. She doesn't have to say anything; the scar on her forehead says it all.

Yeah, I didn't notice it at first because she kept it hidden under her hair. But once I did, everything clicked. When her family saw her bleeding that day, they didn't take it lightly. At all.

Here's the interesting part, though. Irena could've had the cut healed completely. No scar, no trace. But she kept it. She said it's her motivation. Apparently, after what happened that day and seeing what I did, she started training herself.

Honestly? I respect it. She took a terrible moment and turned it into fuel for something better. Not many people can do that.

Oh, right, almost forgot to mention something pretty crucial about Irena and her clan. They're not exactly from around here. And by 'here,' I mean Earth. Yeah, you heard that right. Turns out she's a Dryad. Okay, not full-on mystical forest spirit, but demi-human. Her dad's human, and her mom's a Dryad.

Her beauty was my first impression, but that became less important as we talked more. However, I couldn't help but see how many people fawned over her. Don't get me wrong, I initially thought, 'Ah, she has a lot of friends.' But no, there's more to it.

Dryads naturally emit pheromones that make them incredibly comforting to be around. There's a ton of history behind these pheromones. But that's a lore dump for another day, or maybe it'll come up if I ever get trapped in a conversation where a Dryad has to explain it.

Interestingly, these pheromones didn't seem to affect me as much as others. I asked Chronos about it, and he mentioned it varies from person to person. Must be why I still find her easy to talk to without getting lost in 'those eyes' or whatever everyone else is swooning about.

On a side note, I've met a few other races recently, a couple of beastkin and some wood elves. Obviously, no high elves; they stick to their own elite schools. Interestingly enough, while these groups have their own Ascendant Academies in their realms. Many still come to the primary ones here on Earth.

I don't know all the details, but Earth has somehow become the center of everything. Every realm connects to us, and most academies are also here. I'm not sure how we pulled off such a monopoly, but I'm guessing the politicians and CEOs behind it are laughing all the way to the bank, wiping their tears with cash.

Regardless, things have just become mundane? I don't know how to explain it. Never before have I felt this way about a normal life. I want to say I am enjoying my time, but I'm just missing something. Is it bad to say that the highlights were when I was fighting with the dolls? Even more so after I managed to upgrade from the kid doll to the teen doll, finally.

When I mentioned this to Chronos, he just laughed, a deep, knowing chuckle that both reassured and unnerved me.

"I might have just the thing to spice it up. You look like you just want to keel over and cry," he said, but the twinkle in his eye made me more nervous than excited.

What did he mean by that?

As the year sped by, my frustration grew. Despite all my hard work and dedication, I had yet to awaken. No revelation, no insight, nothing. And trust me, I tried everything. My meditation sessions felt like hitting a wall; I couldn't progress further without my awakening, and I wanted to rip my hair out.

Then, toward the end of the year, after a grueling training session, Chronos pulled me aside. He handed me an envelope with a flourish, as if presenting a grand prize.

"What's this?" I asked, a mix of curiosity and exhaustion in my voice.

"This," Chronos said, standing tall with his arms crossed and nose slightly lifted in a mock-serious pose, "is something to help with your mundane life, my little apprentice."

I raised an eyebrow but took the envelope. "Uh huh."

Inside, I found a letter that made my heart skip a beat:

Dear Raiden Alaric,

Congratulations! You have been selected to participate in the prestigious martial arts contest between schools hosted here in the City of Dawn. This event gathers young talents from various backgrounds to showcase their skills and spirit. We believe your unique abilities and dedication make you an excellent candidate to represent your school and perhaps uncover deeper potentials within yourself.

Please find the details of the event enclosed. We look forward to seeing you shine at the competition.

The realization that I was being thrown into a martial arts contest didn't fully register at first. A part of me buzzed with excitement. This was exactly the challenge I needed to shake up my routine. Yet another part of me trembled at the weight of expectation. Not just from Chronos or the school, but from myself. This could be my moment, the push I needed to finally awaken, or a spectacular flop. Either way, it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

"Now that is a smile I only see when you are facing the dolls," Chronos observed, his voice tinged with amusement.

I touched my face, realizing just how much I had been unconsciously reveling in the thought of the competition. A challenge is what I needed. Not just with the dolls, but with real people so that I can get a good gauge on what people can do.

It was only a day before Chronos and I would have head to the arena for the competition. When I got home and told my mom about it, she practically lost her mind. Her reaction was a mix of excitement and sheer panic, a whirlwind of concern only a mother could muster.

I swear she can never make up her mind on whether she wants to be excited or scared for my life.

"Raiden, are you sure about this? Competing in front of all those people, against who knows what kind of opponents?" she fretted, pacing the kitchen floor. "What if you break something? What if the person you're facing decides to play dirty and kick you in your—"

I had to reassure her a dozen times.

"Mom, it's going to be okay. Chronos wouldn't let me enter if he didn't think I was ready. Plus, it's a great chance to finally test myself, to see how far I've come. I want to see just the payoff of all my hard work."

Gradually, she calmed down, but not without making me promise to call her right after the event, and maybe a few times before and during, if possible. She even suggested I put an earbud in so I can tell her what's going on.

She would have come for sure, but she has a client to work with on that day. My dad is currently in another realm on a contract and won't be back for a week. Iris is probably the most upset she can't go. Mom said if she can't go, no one can. She tried to sneak in that phrase about not going, but it didn't work out in her favor. I told her she could watch the recorded contest with everyone.

The night before leaving, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, getting ready and going through the mental checklist of things I needed to bring. As I was about to pull on my competition gear, a snug, lightweight grey and white hanfu. I caught sight of my reflection and actually took a moment to look. Really look.

The person staring back at me was almost unrecognizable from the kid who had trained with Chronos. My shoulders were broader, arms toned, with muscles that hadn't been there a few months ago, and my overall frame had filled out, reflecting the intense training and discipline I had endured. The muscle definition was more pronounced than I ever remembered seeing; each movement I made caused them to flex and shift, showcasing the strength I had built up.

I turned, observing the changes from different angles, a sense of pride swelling within me. I had worked hard for every line and curve of muscle, each one a testament to the grueling sessions with Chronos, the relentless routines, and the countless repetitions. I couldn't help but strike a few bodybuilder poses and a few shameless JoJo poses.

"Not bad…" I muttered to myself, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

—

Upon arriving at the arena, I noticed it was a repurposed basketball stadium from one of the academies. I've been to a few games with my dad before so I recognize this one.

It was now adorned with mats and infused with an electrifying atmosphere. Chronos and I made our way to the sign-in table to get registered. The air buzzed with the energy of competitors and spectators alike, each step echoing on the stadium floor.

As we approached the registration table, I noticed that the competitors, myself included, were all dressed in traditional hanfus. The flowing robes varied in color and design, representing different schools and their unique heritages. I thought it was for some sort of gimmick that Chronos handed me one to wear. But he had explained that hanfus became the norm for most trainees. Once I awakened, I could wear what I pleased, because who is someone to question what in? Obviously, depending on your background, it might matter, but eh, I want to be comfortable.

"Alaric, Raiden," Chronos announced to the lady behind the table, his voice cutting through the muted conversations around us.

The official found my name on the list and handed over a lanyard with a badge, detailing my placement in the junior division. She marked me as #490.

"You're on mat seven for your first match," she informed, her voice brisk but friendly. "Schedule's on the back of your badge. Remember, one-minute rounds, scoring is lethal versus non-lethal hits. Jabs and light strikes are non-lethal, full crosses and power shots are lethal and end the round. Knockouts are instant wins. Refrain from using auras, and avoid excess exertion to prevent disqualification. Good luck!"

Chronos and I navigated through the bustling arena to find mat seven, passing other competitors who were stretching and practicing their forms. The traditional robes seemed to enhance their movements, the fabric flowing gracefully with each kick and punch. I was trying to hold back a smile from seeing these people who I have time to get in the ring with.

Once we reached mat seven, Chronos leaned in, his voice low and steady.

"Remember, Rai, 'Eyes open, mind sharp.'"

The phrase clicked something in me, a reminder of the countless hours we'd spent on observation and strategy. My opponent was #53. I studied my opponent, noting his stance. the way he distributed his weight, and the subtle tells in his movements, signs of his strengths and potential weaknesses.

He was slightly taller than me, with a confident air about him that suggested experience. His eyes caught mine, and we both acknowledged the unspoken challenge. This was it, the chance to test myself.

As the referee called us to the center of the mat, I took a deep breath, grounding myself in the techniques Chronos had drilled into me.

I watched his posture. His squared, slightly raised shoulders revealed that he might be tenser than he wanted to appear.

Chronos's words from a training session echoed in my mind: "Tension is a sign of preparedness, but also of fear. Use it to your advantage."

His feet's solid stance suggested a preference for moving forward instead of retreating, I noted.

As we were instructed to bow, I focused on his center of gravity, noting its slight forward shift onto his toes. Chronos always emphasized, "The balance tells you their next move before they make it." This subtle cue showed his eagerness, likely signaling his intent to strike quickly.

Pressing my fist into my open palm, I bowed and spoke the word "Proelium," meaning "Battle" in Latin, as Chronos had taught me.

"Let this contest sharpen us both," I declared, injecting a formal tone of respect into the challenge.

This gesture, practiced even against the sparring dolls, was meant to foster proper etiquette for duels and contests alike.

My opponent merely nodded in response, skipping the traditional bow. I squinted slightly, a mix of annoyance and humor flickering through me.

Did Chronos set me up to look like a damn chuni?

But a quick scan of the arena showed other competitors engaging in similar rituals. Some are even more elaborate than mine. One guy is shaking his hips a little too much.

Okay, not a setup then, just my luck to draw Harry as a first opponent. Yes, his name is now Harry.

I'd once asked Chronos about the significance of exchanging names during a match, having seen it often in anime where it seemed to cement mutual respect. Hey, can't blame a guy for being curious. I wanna feel cool by having someone ask my name in the middle of a battle too.

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"It's a real thing," he had confirmed, "but whether someone reciprocates tells you a lot about them."

He'd explained that everyone knows that exchanging names shows respect or acknowledgment. While I don't expect this kind of thing to happen at a small martial arts contest for teens, it was just good information to have when I have some real bouts with Ascendants.

As the referee called us to the center of the mat to start the match, the absence of that exchange hung in the air, unspoken but sharply felt. I want to say I was nervous, but I was actually starting to get excited.

How long has it been? Almost a year without a single bit of combat. The thought soon pumped adrenaline into me, and I already had a smile plastered on my face as the referee began the match.

Harry advanced quickly, launching a left jab followed by a right straight. But something about his approach felt... off. He was egregiously slow. And I mean, comically slow. His sloppy posture and amateur footwork were apparent. He threw his punches with such dramatic flair that I almost winced. It was like watching a slow-motion scene without the cool special effects.

Am I being punked?

With almost no effort, I tilted my head back slightly, dodging his sluggish attempts with ease. The punches sailed harmlessly past me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something. Was this actually his best shot, or was there some strategy behind his seemingly clumsy offense? I didn't let my guard down and continued dodging his punches. He threw a few kicks, which I avoided easily. I just kept waiting until he did, well, anything.

As the referee blew the whistle, signaling the end of the one-minute round, confusion flickered across my face. The round was awarded to Harry based on ring-out rules. I was about to protest, but then I looked down. My foot had slipped out of bounds.

Oh, so this is your game? I guess you are a wizard, Harry.

I thought, half-amused and half-annoyed. Harry must have maneuvered me out while I was too busy dodging his sluggish attempts. Not a poor strategy, making me think he was actually bad by throwing random attacks at me.

The next round started, and this time, I switched gears. No more waiting for Harry to show a hint of competence. I took the offensive, stepping in quickly and launching a barrage of strikes that Harry could barely react to. Each move I made was precise and deliberate, closing any gap he might use to his advantage. And he fell out of the ring almost instantly after my first three strikes.

Within moments, it became clear. This wasn't a strategic masterclass from Harry; it was all he had. His slow punches weren't a ploy to catch me off-guard, they were just slow punches. His movements weren't a setup, they were simply, well, shit. As this realization sank in, my initial amusement at his supposed "strategy" turned into pure disappointment.

I wrapped up the last bout quickly, landing a few well-placed hits. Enough non-lethal strikes that the referee deemed sufficient to call it in my favor without risking a lethal hit that might seriously injure Harry. As I walked back to where Chronos stood, the win felt... well... hollow.

This couldn't be right. Chronos had drilled into me the importance of adaptability and preparedness. There was no way he'd have me walk into a fight this unbalanced.

I looked over at Chronos and saw him with the same expression I had. Disappointment.

Scratching his head, he spoke, "You know, I really should have thought this through before having you do this. I did see a decent amount of talent in here, but I should have realized sooner that it's going to take some time before it gets even remotely interesting."

I sighed. "So… just speedrun the competition until I get something interesting."

Chronos also sighed. "Yeah..."

My next several fights were just as mundane. Match after match, I found myself just going through the motions. Each opponent folded quicker than a bad poker hand, and none brought the spark I craved. It was less of a battle and more of a brisk morning jog through predictable scenery.

As the rounds dragged on, we finally edged closer to the semi-finals. Only one more fight before things really got interesting. To pass the time, I sunk into a meditative state, letting the noise of the bustling arena fade into the background. Chronos had wandered off to snag some snacks and another water bottle for me.

I was deep in meditation when I heard a voice cut through my focus.

"Greetings, my name is Yuki, Yuki Yamamoto."

My eyes fluttered open to see a girl my age standing before me. A confident-looking girl with short black hair, a quirky beauty mark near her left eye, and dressed in martial arts robes that were way fancier than mine. They were dark with some intense blood lotus patterns all over, which is a stark contrast to my basic grey and white.

A belt bearing the number cinched at the waist of her robe #98, signaling her participation. She wasn't alone, flanked by three others in similar robes, all wearing that 'we mean business' look.

Ooo, a school disciple and their entourage? I was hoping for this scenario~

I stood, reaching out a hand. "Raiden, Raiden Alaric."

But she didn't take it, just kept her eyes fixed on mine. I couldn't tell if it was curiosity or just a difference in culture for her not taking my hand.

Dawn, the city we lived in, wasn't your typical place. It was one of two cities on an island off the coast of California, crafted centuries ago by an ascendant who turned his home into a cultural hub instead. This place was massive, state-sized, designed to be a melting pot for all sorts of cultures and races.

At the top of the large island/continent (it's a topic of debate) was the city of Dawn, and at the bottom was, you guessed it, the city of Dusk. Both have a population of roughly two or three million. I expect you to understand that I didn't know all the customs, so you can't blame my ignorance.

Seeing she wasn't going for the handshake, I air-shook her imagined hand with a grin. "Nice to meet you, too."

Her gaze stayed on me, intense enough to turn it into a bit of a standoff. I held her stare, turning it into a game. The moment she blinked, I snapped my fingers and pointed at her.

"Ha, you blinked first!"

She let out a chuckle, her stern facade breaking. "Ha, just as I thought, he was being overdramatic."

"Thank you?" I shot back, a bit thrown but rolling with it.

"A member of my school had fought you and had said you might pose a challenge. But it seems all it did was to prove his incompetence."

Greatttt, you're one of those.

"Oh, really? Which one was he?" I asked, scratching my chin, trying to remember anyone who could have been from her school.

I grabbed my water bottle and took a quick drink, waiting for her to drop a name.

She gestured toward her robe. "Didn't you notice our uniforms? We're from the Hidden Leaf Scho—"

I choked on my water, sputtering it out in surprise. The name caught me so off-guard I burst out laughing, accidentally spraying water in her direction.

"I'm so sorry!" I managed between laughs. "It's just... your school's name got me. It's... interesting."

She didn't seem amused, wiping off her robes as I tried to compose myself. Maybe laughing about her school's name wasn't the best move, but I couldn't help it. The 'Hidden Leaf' school, seriously?

I see what you did there.

Her expression grew stern, and she held out her arms to calm her companions.

"You realize the significance of the Hidden Leaf, don't you? It's not just some name to be laughed at."

I wiped away the last droplets of water, struggling to suppress my smirk. "Oh, I recognize the importance. Truly legendary. So, which one of you is training to be the next Hokage?"

I couldn't help myself.

Her annoyance was unmistakable. "This isn't a joke. The Hidden Leaf School is among the most esteemed martial arts academies in Japan. We train some of the finest warriors and Ascendants."

That's when Chronos came back, armed with popcorn and water bottles. He handed me one and cracked open his, giving our new friends a quick once-over.

"I see you made some friends. What are you talking about?"

"Is this your student?" Yuki asked, her tone laced with venom.

"Yes, is there an issue?" Chronos replied nonchalantly, taking a sip.

"Your student just insulted the Hidden Leaf Scho—"

And just like that, Chronos spat out his water, almost mirroring my earlier reaction. As he wiped his mouth, a mischievous grin played across his lips.

"Oh, the Hidden Leaf? My apologies, didn't realize ninjas from the Land of Fire graced us today."

Yuki's patience wore thinner, and she dabbed her robe dry. "Is mocking our traditions amusing to you?"

I couldn't resist going over the top. I dropped into a full dogeza, prostrating myself on the floor dramatically.

"I deeply apologize for our oversight. Perhaps you'd prefer to rectify this with a classic One Thousand Years of Death? It's reputedly quite popular among your ranks. Chronos, do we have any lube handy for such a procedure?"

Chronos tsked, feigning disappointment. "Alas, the Uzumaki and Uchiha clans have hoarded it all. It's a rare commodity these days."

Rising from my exaggerated bow, I straightened up. "Sadly, we're fresh out of lube. Maybe you have some baby oil on hand? Your skin does have a rather radiant sheen."

Her cheeks flushed red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "You dare continue to mock me and our school?"

With a cheeky wink and a double finger-point, I couldn't resist one last jab. "Believe it!"

At that moment, one of her teammates started forward, his tag displaying #364. Before he could get any closer, Yuki grabbed his arm.

"Yamero, Ryuto-san!"

She shot me a fierce glare. "You'll have your chance in the next match; he is your next opponent."

"Oh, really?" Excitement tinged my voice, an electric buzz under my skin.

"Yes, I was going to tell you, but I was beaten to the punch," Chronos chimed in, his expression mockingly somber.

"You have not only disrespected me, but our school as well. We will not take this lightly," Yuki snapped back.

"Ah! This is the part where you challenge me, right? Putting something on the line to compensate for your hurt feelings!" I exclaimed, barely containing my glee.

Her brows furrowed slightly. "Y-yes, this is a great idea, whoever wi—"

"Alright, what do you want? A formal apology, me becoming your servant for a few days, a naked dogeza?"

"N-no, what I want is—"

"Or do you want to spit on me as payback? Careful, though, a pretty girl spitting water on me? I might find that charming," I teased, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

"P-p-pretty?" She stuttered, momentarily thrown off.

I gasped dramatically, feigning shock. "No! Don't tell me you're a tomboy who's never been called pretty! Say it isn't so!"

"I-I—"

Leaning back against Chronos, I adopted a look of mock horror. "Chronos, quickly! We must spirit away before I succumb to her charms! My fighting spirit may falter if I face her in the ring!"

Chronos played along perfectly, gasping theatrically. "You're right, my young apprentice! To the getaway vehicle!"

He hoisted me onto his shoulder as if preparing for a dramatic exit, and we made our escape, leaving Yuki and her entourage behind, bewildered and unsure how to react to our theatrics.

—

As Chronos whisked me away, his stride exaggerated and theatrical, I couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder. Yuki and her team stood rooted to the spot, their expressions a mix of frustration and utter bewilderment. The corners of my mouth twitched upwards; it was hard not to chuckle at the chaos we'd left in our wake.

"Seriously, Chronos," I said, once we were far enough away, "I know you saw what went down. So tell me, is the 'Hidden Leaf school' actually significant? If so, why did you join in on my little situation and not say anything?"

"Yes, they are significant. I admit that Naruto inspired the school's name, and their results are very good. Regardless, Japan still acknowledges it as one of their premier martial arts schools."

I pondered that. "Wait, what other schools are here that I'm unaware of?"

"About twelve, but Hidden Leaf eliminated the majority. There's only two others left besides them."

Raising an eyebrow, I said. "Wait, so they actually are pretty good?"

"Yes, I never said they weren't. Not to mention there aren't really any notable martial arts schools here in Dawn or Dusk. Also, this competition isn't that significant compared to one hosted by the A.A. So it is a kind of curious as to why they are here. I could make a few guesses, but eh, not worth it."

"I see, so I'm fighting. What's his name... Ryuto? Also, do you know anything about that Yuki girl?"

"Yamamoto? Oh, are you into Asians? I wouldn't bother. She's part of the Blood Lotus Sect. Her grandfather is one of its elders."

I nodded, ignoring the comment about me being into Asians. "Ah, I see. And I have no clue who that is."

Chronos smirked, not missing a beat. "Eh, I don't blame you. They aren't exactly a household name in areas with a stronger American influence like here. They have a couple branches here but nothing noteworthy. It's mostly for the sake of presence."

I squinted thoughtfully. "Wait, you clearly could have intervened at any time. Was this all part of your plan? Having me square off against a top contender from an esteemed school?"

Chronos shrugged. "As much as I want to say yes, I can't take credit for that. This was all you."

"Well then, I didn't realize my charm was strong enough to attract the attention of a noble lady from a sect of all things," I joked, running a hand through my hair with a theatrical flourish.

He raised an eyebrow. "It is odd to think you'd ask a girl you just met to spit on you."

I chuckled, adding to the joke. "If she's pretty enough, I don't see why not." Chronos looked at me with concern. I rolled my eyes. "Oh fuck off, you know it's a joke."

Just then, my number was called. I walked over to the designated mat, noticing Ryuto already there, his expression a mix of anger and determination. I couldn't tell if he was personally offended on Yuki's behalf or just duty-bound by his loyalty to her and her high standing in the sect. Oh, maybe he has a crush on her. This is your chance to impress her, make it count.

As I stepped onto the mat, the referee began his spiel, outlining the rules we'd already memorized. Ryuto didn't waste any time with pleasantries. He intensely gazed at me, promising a bout filled with more than just physical strikes.

"Alright, fighters ready?" the referee asked, his hand poised to signal the start.

I nodded, my focus narrowing to the space between us.

As I settled into my stance across from Ryuto, I took a moment to size him up. Ryuto's posture was rigid, almost textbook perfect. Which told me he was well-trained but perhaps too reliant on formal techniques. His eyes were sharp, focused, a sign of his determination or maybe just his anger from our earlier interaction.

Ryuto positioned his feet evenly, creating a stable and balanced stance, but he favored his front foot. Aggressive, likely to initiate with a forward move.

His hands, though, were slightly trembling. Was it adrenaline, nerves, or sheer rage? Either way, it could lead to premature moves, something I could exploit. I recalled Chronos mimicking opponents during our training, showing how slight tremors could indicate a readiness to strike or a feint.

His breathing was steady but deep, measured, trying perhaps too hard to control the build-up of his energy. "Controlled breathing can mean controlled aura," Chronos would say, "but over-control can make you predictable." This was my cue. If I could disrupt his rhythm, I could throw him off.

I also noted the way his gaze occasionally flicked to my hands, then back to my eyes. He was trying to predict my strikes, anticipate my strategy. Good, let him try.

As the referee's hand dropped, signaling the start, Ryuto wasted no time. He surged forward with surprising speed, a stark contrast to the controlled posture he'd maintained moments before. His first strike, a well-aimed jab, came faster than I expected, forcing me to block rather than dodge. The impact rattled through my guard, a clear demonstration of his power.

I tried to counter with a jab of my own to gauge his reflexes, but Ryuto was already moving, his footwork swift and precise. Before I could reset, he launched a combination of quick strikes, each one progressively closer to breaking through my defense.

The crowd's murmurs grew louder as Ryuto's intensity increased. His next move, a powerful sidekick, caught me off guard. The force was enough to push me back, and with a tactical sweep of his leg, he sent me stumbling out of the ring. The referee called the round in Ryuto's favor and signaled for me to return.

As I climbed back onto the mat, a rush of excitement surged through me. The unexpected challenge, the feel of the crowd's energy, it was invigorating.

Ryuto spoke. "I expected more. I guess giving you a lesson for the disrespect you showed is going to be easier than I thought."

I couldn't help it. A huge smile spread across my face. Ryuto raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He got back into a fighting stance, waiting for the ref to start the next round.

The referee's whistle pierced the air, and the next round began. Ryuto's confidence was clear in his stance, perhaps thinking his early success would easily carry through. But this time, I was ready. As he advanced, I focused on the minute shifts in his muscles and the set of his shoulders, reading him.

I see it~

Ryuto launched into a flurry of punches, each aimed with precision and force. But now, I danced around them with a nimbleness that drew cheers from the crowd. My body moved instinctively, ducking and weaving through his assault, each dodge building my confidence.

Then came a technique I hadn't seen before, a low spinning sweep aimed to knock my legs out from under me. Instead of jumping away, I blocked it, using the opportunity to study the movement up close. As I absorbed the impact on my forearms, the technique clicked in my mind like a puzzle piece finding its rightful place.

Emboldened, I used Ryuto's movements myself, mirroring his techniques with slight variations. Each successful block and counter brought a new level of understanding, and soon I was not just reacting, but expecting predicting his every move.

As the match progressed, it became a chess game of strikes and counters. With each passing moment, I adapted more of Ryuto's techniques, weaving them into my arsenal. The crowd's energy swelled, their cheers a rhythmic backdrop to the symphony of our combat.

Ryuto's frustration grew with every exchange. His initial smug assurance faded as he realized that not only was I holding my own, but I was also turning his own techniques against him. The realization dawned on him slowly, his eyes widening as he recognized his moves on my counters.

"Masaka," he muttered under his breath after I mirrored a complex combo he had introduced earlier in the fight.

With a grin, I stepped back, giving him a moment to reassess.

"Your moves are good," I called out, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet, "but I think they suit me better."

I have to admit, Chronos never taught me anything besides the basics and that simple combo. I was initially irritated by his refusal to show me more. But after I was told I was taking part in this contest and now having this encounter, it made me realize something.

I wasn't here to compete. I was here to steal every single technique these contestants offered. This wasn't a test of my strength. It was a feast handed out to me on a silver platter.

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