I couldn't make sense of it. Bao and Denis had practically become best mates!

I couldn't wait for an explanation, so I called Bao straight away. He was listed before Denis in my contacts.

He clearly wasn't eager to pick up, the line rang for a while.

"What the hell is this?!" I asked, not bothering to hide my emotions.

He knew exactly what I was talking about.

"I'll explain over dinner. For now, keep your mouth shut."

At dinner, the whole crew gathered: me, Bao, Denis, Marlon, Nur, and Zola, though Bao still could barely tolerate her.

No one else knew about the duel yet, so no one was any more nervous than usual. It was just me twitching, as if I were the one about to fight for every last one of my points.

Truth be told, I'd probably gotten used to these bastards, and I hoped somehow both of them would make it to second year.

After the traditional exchange of plates, Bao and Denis exchanged a look, and Denis announced: "We're going kamikaze."

"With who?" Marlon asked.

"With each other," Bao replied.

For a moment, such a heavy silence settled over our table that it seemed to cut us off from the rest of the dining hall.

"Ha!" Zola spoke first. "A rather sensible choice. It'll be nice to see at least one of you on second year!"

Bao nearly snapped at her but managed to hold back. She noticed, of course, and jabbed at him: "Even you, though I'll be cheering for Denis."

They'd agreed on it nearly half a year ago. Sure, the loot on the pastures had pushed them closer to the mark, but it still wasn't enough. To secure their spot, they'd have needed either extraordinary luck or the kind of skill that left them unbeatable in the arena.

But the truth was, sooner or later, in the arena you always ran into someone stronger. With their decent duel ratings, it was hard to find anyone willing to stake enough against them to guarantee they'd pass, and at the same time be weak enough to ensure a safe win. Deliberately throwing duels wasn't much help either; you couldn't tank your rating too far without everyone noticing. Real fighters would always know your true level.

With kamikaze duels, things were trickier.

In principle, in the last days before the deadline, you could find some madman willing to fight. What you couldn't guarantee was victory. Bao and Denis decided that one of them had to get through no matter what. That way, none of it would have been in vain.

Their old mentors knew about the plan and had vouched for the boys, so the application wasn't kept pending for long.

Otherwise, it might easily have been rejected. With such a massive stake, it could have looked like Bao's rich son was simply buying himself points.

The duel was scheduled for the very next day, almost right after breakfast.

Bao and Denis skipped breakfast, fuelling themselves only with energy drinks.

For their duel, they chose a standard plastic arena with no obstacles. Bao stepped onto it first, and this time he carried not a trace of arrogance. No swagger. His movements were restrained and solemn, like a man stepping not into just another fight, but into a final trial.

When Denis entered the arena, Bao bowed deeply and solemnly, fist to palm.

"It is a great honour to know you, brother," he said loudly and with such sincerity that it nearly brought a tear to my eye.

Denis returned the gesture.

"And for me, brother. I hope, whoever wins, we'll remain friends after the fight."

Bao bowed once more.

"Of that, have no doubt."

"Ready!" the judge commanded, raising his hand.

Bao swung his mace, the head whirling before slamming heavily into the floor behind him.

Denis leaned forward.

"Begin!"

Denis dashed, driving his elbow ahead like a battering ram. But Bao didn't falter. He lashed the flail, sending the knot of vines whipping forward straight at Denis's head.

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Denis abruptly drew back his right elbow, thrust out his arm, and let the mace's head slide along it — just as Seo-yeon had once let it slide off her sword.

It barely altered his trajectory, and before impact he once again drove his elbow forward.

He had calculated everything. He had watched dozens of fights. He had trained with Bao himself and knew him better than anyone.

But Bao knew Denis better than anyone, too. To everyone's surprise, he didn't dodge. Instead, he leapt to meet him, letting Denis's elbow skim past his right shoulder, and driving a crushing knee strike straight into Denis's solar plexus.

A golden projection burst from Denis. Most of it, the phantom of his form trailing his elbow, tore straight through Bao, dealing internal damage. But Bao's knee, reinforced by the Mace Qi, left a massive dent in Denis's armour.

Locked in a strange clinch, both fighters sank to the arena floor.

Bao didn't release the vine, he forced it over Denis's neck with effort.

Denis struck him with an open palm square in the chest, and nearly full projection ripped free from his back.

I'd bet a hundred Bao was pumped full of stimulants; otherwise, he wouldn't have survived that strike.

He staggered, but didn't let the vine slip from Denis's throat. On the contrary, he made it tighten, as hard and as fast as he could. He was replaying the fight with Seo-yeon, throwing defence aside to gamble everything on one risky attack.

Denis's armour groaned and buckled. When Seo-yeon had been caught like this, the segments had bitten so deep into her neck they'd had to be cut out. But this wasn't instant. Denis still held control over his Qi and his body.

He pressed his palm under Bao's chin, and a golden projection of a hand shot through the crown of Bao's head.

Bao toppled like a felled tree.

Denis grabbed the vine.

I knew he could damage it with his Qi, I'd seen him do it in the demon puppet fight. But the thick coil had bitten so deep into his neck that there wasn't a hair's width between it and the armour. Denis's heavy, armoured fingers scraped uselessly against it, and he quickly switched to the ends. He could pull from there. Yet what was flexible in Bao's hands was steel rebar in his. Still, straining with all his might, he tore them free from the armour.

The dent remained. His neck now looked unnaturally thin against his massive body, and it never returned to normal.

Bao…

While Denis wrestled with the vine, Bao tried to rise. Twice he collapsed, each time shuddering as if choking.

Denis tore the vine loose and used my favourite move with it, hurling it out of the arena.

Then, hoarse, he rasped at Bao:

"Ghf… ghrv up!"

That he was offering Bao the chance to surrender was clear only from the context.

But Bao gathered his strength, pushed himself upright, and shook his head.

"Not yet!" he rasped back, more clearly than Denis. But instead of stepping forward, he staggered back.

Denis struck with his palm. A golden projection shot at Bao, and shattered against the formation.

Bao retreated another step.

Denis fired again, and again the projection broke apart.

Denis lunged forward, and Bao dove for his legs. They collided at the last instant, when the technique was nearly finalized, but that was enough. Denis's elbow slammed into the floor, the projection following harmlessly with it, while Bao rolled beneath his legs.

But the fall cost him dearly. The earlier wounds were catching up.

Their bloodstreams, Bao's and Denis's both, must have been a hellish slurry of painkillers and stimulants by now.

Time was running out for both, two friends who knew each other down to the smallest detail, but now had to prove whose will was stronger.

Bao was first to his feet, hurrying to widen the gap again.

Denis, on the one hand, still moved faster, but his locked neck robbed him of freedom. He had to twist his entire torso to look around.

He fired two more projections at Bao…

Then his knee buckled, and he dropped onto it.

Denis raised his right hand and showed Bao his middle finger.

Then he raised his left and showed his thumb.

After that, he collapsed unconscious.

"Victory, Bao!" the judge declared.

Technicians and medics rushed onto the arena to pry Denis out of his armour. As with Seo-yeon, they first had to punch a hole in the neck section.

Bao made it to the platform on his own and climbed out of his armour by himself, but he looked ghastly. His eyes were bloodshot, blood poured from his nose, his mouth, and his left ear. Both of them were sent straight to pods, where they remained almost until the end of term. They emerged only a few days before the deadline.

After that fight, Bao Feng took first place in the rankings. Gunther, Baturin and several others managed to overtake him once the bonuses were tallied, but he remained top 20! The rankings were announced in the final days, and for us, assistant supervisors, those days were pure hell.

The Hall of Order even pulled in reinforcements from the senior periods.

The dormitory carried a strange, half-funeral, half-wedding air. The world had split into losers and winners, and often they burned with hatred for each other. We no longer had any leverage over them in the form of points.

As expected, all of my colleagues made it into the winners' pool. Even Omar, who had been dangerously slow with his breakthrough.

Not all the losers were gloomy, though — Marlon, for one, was eagerly awaiting his return to Earth. And not all the winners were joyful. Bao wasn't. He seemed to carry guilt for his last victory, and Denis's forced smile did nothing to ease it.

Denis had lost fair and square; Bao had outplayed him. But physically it was impossible for Denis to be happy. Despite all their agreements and promises, his dream had been smashed to pieces by his friend. So when he told Bao, he was glad for him, glad the better man had won, it rang hollow.

The farewell day drew near.

Denis, Marlon, and Nur were heading home.

Bao, Zola, and I were staying.

The day before, Zola nicked a bottle of medical alcohol from the infirmary, and on the last night we mixed it with juice packets and fizzy drinks. 'Got drunk' is saying too much — a few litres of alcohol weren't enough to knock out six second-stage cultivators.

But it was enough to get Bao teary-eyed. He admitted to Denis that he'd been his first true friend. Somehow, that confession helped Denis make peace with his fate. He made Bao promise he'd stay human, that he wouldn't go back to being a complete arsehole.

On the morning of the last day, we vacated our rooms. Those staying were issued new uniforms with twos on the collars, and single rooms in a different dormitory.

Those returning to Earth had to wait until the shuttles unloaded a horde of fresh-faced newbies, just as we ourselves had been a year ago. Luckily, we fresh second-period assistant supervisors were spared the chaos of new arrivals, and we were able to say proper goodbyes to our friends.

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