The arena buzzed with anticipation as Leo Jerkins made his way through the crowd toward the competitors' area. Whispers followed him like a shadow, voices rising and falling with each step he took.
"Can you believe it? That rookie has had a fine run up to now," one spectator remarked, his voice carrying a note of grudging respect. "For some first-timer, he's done remarkably well."
His companion shook his head, a skeptical frown creasing his brow. "Unfortunately, I believe his luck ends now. Dmitri Volkov is no pushover. She's been in the game longer than he's been alive."
"At least he'll have a story to tell," a third voice chimed in. "He can tell his grandchildren about how he actually participated in the tournament preliminaries and made it out alive. That's more than most can say."
Elijah heard their words but paid them no mind. His focus was absolute, his attention fixed on the arena ahead.
---
In the stands, Cassia Ulfric watched Elijah's approach with an intensity that bordered on predatory. Her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing as she studied his movements—the way he walked, the way he held himself, the subtle shifts in his posture.
Beside her, a female companion noticed her expression. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a concerned whisper.
"What's wrong?"
Cassia shook her head slowly, her gaze never leaving Elijah. "It's nothing. It's just... the way this Leo walks reminds me of someone."
Her companion raised an eyebrow. "That's why you're down like this? Was it some boyfriend or something?"
Cassia didn't reply. Her eyes remained fixed on Elijah, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her gaze.
---
Yelena Volkov approached the arena with a disdainful glance at her opponent. Her movements were fluid, predatory, her aethernova humming with barely contained energy. She stopped a few feet away from Elijah, her eyes raking over him with contempt.
"You should just walk away while you still have a chance," she said, her voice cold and dismissive. "I won't give you any room to even breathe when I start with you. You'll regret stepping into this arena."
Elijah didn't respond immediately. Instead, he made a show of swatting at the air, his movements exaggerated and theatrical. He tilted his head, a puzzled expression crossing his features.
"Hey, is it me," he said, his voice carrying a note of mock confusion, "or do I hear some irritating buzzing ringing in my ears? It's like there's a mosquito that won't stop pestering me."
A ripple of chuckles spread through the crowd. A few spectators grinned, clearly enjoying the exchange.
"This Leo is such a lively chap," one of them remarked.
"More like an imbecile who doesn't know what it means to be on the verge of defeat," another countered. "He's playing with fire."
---
Elijah's perception shifted, his ability activating as he studied Yelena's form. Through his thermal detection signature, he could see the frequency spectrum of her aethernova, the flow of her conflux energy. It was strong, but not flawless. There was a weak point, a subtle vulnerability near her chest where her defenses thinned.
There, he thought, his mind working through the implications. If I aim there, I can disrupt her flow. Break her rhythm.
His plan formed quickly, efficiently.
---
The signal flashed.
Yelena exploded into motion, her fighting style aggressive and relentless. She moved like a lunatic bandit, her strikes wild and powerful, each one aimed at inflicting maximum damage. Her aethernova flared with each attack, leaving trails of light in the air.
Elijah responded with calm precision. He deflected her strikes with minimal effort, his movements economical and efficient. His aethernova pulsed with controlled bursts of power, each one perfectly timed to counter her onslaught.
"You hit like a girl!" Yelena taunted, her voice carrying a note of disdain. "Seriously, my granny can hit better than you!"
Elijah maintained his calm, his expression unruffled. He was waiting for the right moment.
The crowd watched with bated breath, their voices rising and falling with each exchange. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension almost palpable.
---
In the VIP section, Isha Patel watched the fight with a mixture of contempt and amusement. Her eyes narrowed, her voice carrying a note of disdain.
"No wonder you men are always talking trash about us," she said, her voice cutting through the ambient noise. "It appears some of you don't even have manners. Look at her—she's practically foaming at the mouth."
Eugene Torrent leaned forward, a rare smile crossing his features. "I love this Leo kid. His style really suits him. He's got guts, I'll give him that."
Jericho Jerkin watched with a different expression—one of barely concealed contempt. Come on, he thought, his internal voice carrying a note of dark anticipation. Make a blunder. Go down. Let me see you embarrass yourself.
---
The fight intensified. Yelena's strikes grew more desperate, more reckless. Her aethernova flared with each attack, the conflux energy around her crackling with barely contained power.
Elijah's perception was razor-sharp. He could see the weakness in her defenses, the subtle gap he'd been waiting for. His aethernova pulsed with controlled energy as he prepared his counter.
And then he moved.
His strike was precise, aimed directly at the vulnerable point near her chest. The impact sent a shockwave through her defenses, disrupting her flow. Her aethernova flickered, her rhythm broken.
Yelena staggered, her composure shattered. Elijah pressed his advantage, his movements fluid and decisive. He grabbed her, his grip firm and unyielding, one hand near her chest, the other around her neck. He held her in a chokehold, her struggles growing weaker with each passing moment.
The crowd erupted, their voices a mixture of shock and excitement. Spectators leaned forward, their eyes wide, their breaths held.
"Did you see that?" one exclaimed. "Talk about gender equality—this kid doesn't care if a beauty is his opponent. He gives them the same treatment as the rest!"
"I didn't expect that," another responded, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's got real skill."
Yelena's face flushed crimson, her eyes blazing with fury and humiliation. She struggled against his grip, but it was no use. His hold was unbreakable.
Yelena's sisters watched from the sidelines, their expressions a mixture of shock and outrage.
"Give him a taste of your power!" one of them shouted, her voice carrying across the arena. "Make him pay for trying to taint her!"
But it was too late. Yelena's strength was fading, her aethernova flickering weakly. She tapped out, the signal of surrender clear.
The match was over.
"AND THE WINNER IS LEO JERKINS!" Kazimir's voice boomed through the speakers, his digital form appearing with a shower of pyrrhia sparks.
---
Elijah released Yelena, stepping back with a calm, collected expression. He turned toward the VIP section, his gaze finding Jericho Jerkin. He raised his hand, making a small, casual gesture—an "I'm okay" signal that was almost mocking in its nonchalance.
Jericho's expression shifted, his earlier contempt replaced by something darker. His jaw tightened, his fingers digging into the armrest of his seat. His eyes blazed with barely concealed fury.
That bastard, he thought, his internal voice carrying a note of venom. He's mocking me. He's actually mocking me.
The crowd's cheers continued, the excitement of the match still fresh in their minds. But Jericho's focus was elsewhere.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.