Match Seven was my Turn.

"Competitor forty-seven, Hadeon Ravana!"

I stood, rolling my shoulders. Damian had helped me into light combat armor that was enchanted by Marcus, flexible enough for movement but reinforced at vital points. My sword hung at my side, shadow crystal in my pocket and mergency healing potion strapped to my belt.

I was as ready as I'd ever be.

The fighting pit was twenty meters across, it was made of carved stone floor, with walls rising three meters before the first row of seats. No environmental features here and no cover.

Just two fighters and open space.

My opponent was already waiting. "K. Shadowmere" turned out to be a young man, maybe nineteen, with dark hair and darker eyes. He wore academy robes but carried twin daggers that marked him as an assassin-type fighter.

"Hadeon Ravana," he said as I entered. "The famous criminal."

"Just Hadeon is fine."

"I'm Kieran. Kieran Shadowmere." He twirled his daggers casually. "No hard feelings about this, it's just business.....don't come at me later."

The old Hadeon would definitely have done just that, but I Just shrugged and smiled. "No offense taken."

The referee was the same scarred woman from registration, and she stood between us.

"Rules are simple. Fight until yield, knockout, or death. Killing is discouraged but legal but medical team on standby so you can fight to your heart content." She looked at both of us. "Ready?"

We nodded.

"Begin!"

She vanished in a burst of speed, clearing the pit.

Kieran moved immediately.

He was fast. A-plus rank speed, enhanced by wind magic. His daggers became blurs, aiming for my throat and heart simultaneously.

I activated Shadow Step instantly.

The world blurred. I appeared three meters left, his daggers slicing empty air.

"Nice trick," he said, spinning. "But you can't dodge forever."

He charged again. This time I tracked his movement better and saw the telegraph in his shoulders, the slight hesitation before he committed.

I didn't dodge.

I parried this time.

Clang!

My sword caught his right dagger, deflecting it high. My free hand shot forward, palm strike to his chest but it wasn't hard enough to seriously injure, but enough to create distance.

He stumbled back, reassessing me, his eyes narrowed. "You're better than expected," he admitted.

"I get that a lot." I shrugged.

In most books, the system was the all over dominating that gives overpowering skills and all, but in my own, I have to work my ass off as my system is more like a bored interface than anything else.

Not that I'm complaining....but...still!

This time I initiated.

Shadow blade formed around my sword, they are not solid, more like an extension of the steel, making it longer and harder to judge distance when I use them.

I attacked high. He ducked.

I pivoted and low sweep, but he jumped. I used Shadow Step mid-swing, appearing behind him while he was still airborne.

Now he has no leverage to dodge.

My blade caught his shoulder, but I didn't cut too deep to cleave him only to make his blood flow more freely.

He hit the ground rolling, came up with daggers ready, but his left arm was compromised now.

"Yield?" I offered.

"Not yet." And he smiled.

He threw both daggers.....at the ground between us!

They exploded into smoke of thick, black and disorienting.

It's an assassination technique! Obscure vision, close distance, and strike from surprise. I'd seen Lucille use it a hundred times in training.

I closed my eyes and listened.

I heard his footsteps, light, circling right, his breathing controlled but it was there and moving closer.

The whisper of steel through air.

I dropped low, felt the dagger pass over my head. Swept my leg out where I estimated his position would be.

It connected and he stumbled.

I surged forward through the smoke my sword horizontal, flat of the blade aimed for his chest.

Hit him solid and knocked the wind out.

The smoke cleared, his spell had a duration limit.

Kieran was on his knees, gasping, one dagger lost, the other held weakly.

"Yield," I said again.

This time he dropped the dagger. "Yield."

The crowd cheered.

It wasn't as loud as for Seraphina, but respectable.

"Winner: Hadeon Ravana"

I offered him a hand up. He took it.

"You....you fight as if you're the A+!"

I look at him clinically. "I've been training a lot, and for an assassin-type, you sure opened yourself to lots of attacks. You should invest more on your agility, it works in hand with the speed."

He looked at him for a long time and then he nodded. "Well played. Good luck in round two."

"You too. In whatever bracket you end up."

He limped off to the medical station. I returned to my section, where my faction was waiting.

"Adequate," Lucille said. Which from her was high praise.

"You pulled that last strike," Seraphina observed. "Could've seriously injured him."

"Didn't need to, my ibjective was winning, not hurting."

"Mercy in the pit is weakness," someone said.

I turned. The hooded figure from registration was sitting two rows behind us. Up close, I could see eyes glinting in the shadow of the hood, pale, almost colorless.

"Or maybe mercy is confidence," I replied. "Only those who are strong can afford to me merciful. The truly weak have to stump to death."

"Philosophical. How quaint." The figure stood, moving with eerie fluidity. "We'll see if that philosophy survives when you face real opponents."

"Looking forward to it."

The figure laughed, a sound like wind through graves, and vanished into the crowd.

"I really don't like that person," Marcus muttered.

"Get in line," Lucille said.

The tournament continued. Sixteen matches that first night. I watched them all.

I silently made some observations.

The armored woman demolished her opponent in under ten seconds. Her name was listed as V. She moved with the efficiency of someone who'd been fighting for decades, not years.

Kael Nightwhisper also won her match through pure assassination technique. Her opponent literally didn't see the strike that ended the fight.

The hooded figure didn't fight in round one. Must have drawn a bye or was seeded higher.

Three fighters used forbidden techniques but the referee didn't stop them since it was well known that underground tournament rules is anything goes.

By midnight, the bracket was down to thirty-two.

Round two would begin tomorrow.

And I'd be facing Kael Nightwhisper, the woman who somehow knew about cycles.

I am eager to learn what she knows.

☆☆▪︎▪︎☆☆

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