Devon walked into the dressing room with a grin on his face as he took his previous seat.

"Why are you smiling like an idiot?" Flint looked at him with a frown before asking, "didn't you lose?"

"It ain't always about winning," Devon replied with a chuckle.

Flint raised a brow before shaking his head, "you've gone mad after you had your ass handed to you."

"Forget it, you ain't gonna see my point anyway," Devon said with a smile, "it's too high up for you."

It took Flint a while to understand that his height was being made fun of...again.

He moved away from the wall he was leaning on and walked towards the sitting Devon before muttering, "you wanna go?"

"Nah," Devon raised both hands, "I ain't gonna fight someone that looks like my little brother."

Flint's frown got darker, and he very much wanted to punch the locs off Devon's head, but now wasn't the time.

Besides, he still had a match in a few minutes, he couldn't waste his energy on someone that lost to a girl.

Nox watched the interaction before letting out a light chuckle, Devon hardly ever lost when it came to verbal confrontations and he had the physicality to back his quick quips.

So there was no way Flint would win against him.

Flint slowly walked back to the wall and leaned back on it, waiting for his match to be announced so he can release this pent up annoyance against someone who wasn't responsible for it.

According to the line up, his opponent was supposed to be a second year that had made it into the qualifying six, which left Nox with the most scary one of them,

The third year boy.

Nox turned to his opponent, calmly observing him. Nox didn't have to feel the SE coming from him to know that he was strong.

His previous matches had been more than enough testaments to his ability.

Though, those matches almost always ended with a single move from him. There was also the fact that he looked perpetually bored.

Even now, he was sleeping without a care in the world, waiting for his match to be announced.

Nox knew the third year's actions weren't born of blind confidence, they were rooted in belief in his own strength.

And if Nox was being honest, he doubted he could win their upcoming match.

Soon enough a ding was heard from both Flint's and the second year's watch and they both immediately stood up, silently walking out of the waiting room.

But not before Flint gave Devon a dark look.

"I apologize in advance, second year," Devon muttered with a chuckle, "but this match ain't gonna go well for you… and it really ain't my fault."

Yes, it was.

***

Back in the arena, the crowd was calmly waiting for the tasmanian devil to face the second year.

They dubbed him that because it only took a simple provocation to get mad, sometimes you just had to look at him in a way that reminded him that he was short for him to snap.

He was like a walking ball of anger.

The holographic screen displayed both their names as the announcer called for them to walk up the platform.

Flint walked out first, looking as annoyed as ever, with his solar tech already in hand. The second year, known as Rhett Vale, walked out a second later.

He was tall, lean, and visibly tense, mostly due to Flint's previous matches and how they all ended with an unconscious opponent.

But he should be fine right? After all, he hadn't said anything to provoke the tasmanian devil just yet.

Well, except the devil could read minds.

Rhett was the kind of fighter who relied more on discipline than flair. His solar tech manifested as a translucent shield on his left arm and a narrow blade in his right.

The contrast was immediate.

Flint didn't pay mind to him, nor the crowd, he was already annoyed enough by Devon's words and he very much wanted to unleash that annoyance on his face.

Unfortunately, he couldn't fight Devon just yet, so this second year would have to do for now.

He cracked his neck with his free hand, the other wrapping tightly around his staff as he let out small, controlled breaths, reminding himself that the second year wasn't really at fault here.

"...May luck be with you friend," Rhett offered, trying to sound composed.

Flint finally looked up.

For a split second, the second year felt an oppressive heat aimed at him, one that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with intent.

"Don't talk," Flint said flatly.

The announcer interrupted their stare down as he loudly announced, "Contestants ready."

Rhett raised his guard, SE circulating smoothly as he settled into a defensive stance.

Flint didn't move.

"Three."

His boots suddenly powered up, producing a golden glow.

"Two."

Rhett shifted, eyes darting, trying to look for openings on his opponent's relaxed pose, and although there were lots, he couldn't help thinking that it might be a trap.

"One."

"Begin!"

Flint instantly vanished.

One second he was standing there, the next, he was completely gone.

Rhett's instincts screamed and he twisted just in time to raise his shield, anticipating the attack.

Only for Flint to appear inside his guard and slam his staff into Rhett's abdomen...or that's how it seemed, but Rhett managed to move his blade in the last second, to absorb most of the impact.

Though, he was still sent skidding back, he was mostly fine.

Flint looked a bit surprised that the attack was blocked, but instead of a frown, a grin slowly surfaced on his face.

If Rhett could recover from a feint just in time to block an unexpected attack, then that meant he was strong enough to take a punch.

Flint spun the staff in his hand, deciding to stop holding back...even though there was question of if he really was.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he muttered and launched himself towards Rhett.

The match had finally begun.

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