THIRD PERSON'S POV
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Down to the last battle of the day.
A short bathroom break gave the remaining fighters time to prepare.
Back at the wait-out, Nathan sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, his usual calm wearing thin under Lily's "preparation."
"Okay, now stretch your arms—let me massage them. Your win determines our score for today. Even though we're clearly advancing, still—no risks should be taken."
"Lily—"
"Have you checked your teammates?"
"Lily—"
"They seem pretty cool. Sarah said Josephine is a good fighter. She controls plants like me. How cool is that?"
"Lily!"
"What?"
Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, then forced a small smile as he ruffled her hair.
"Thanks, kid. But I've got this. Okay?"
"Well of course you've got this. You're our golden grandpa."
"Golden what now?"
Donald repeated, already wheezing with laughter.
"You're old too, you know."
"I'm 18!"
"And I just turned 16, so you're old to me."
"You little—"
Donald lunged, chasing Lily around the room as she squealed and dodged him.
Renzo lit another cigarette. Countless stubs already littered the floor around his feet. The cleaner nearby shot him a death glare but said nothing, silently sweeping them up.
"What's wrong with you?"
Zoe asked, arms crossed.
"Nothing… Okay, Nathan, it's time. We'll be leading if you win."
"I still don't get how this thing works."
Ivy, who had been silently watching the entire time, frowned slightly. Renzo waved her off.
"Later. Nathan, go."
Nathan nodded and headed out with Josephine and the third fighter.
Country Y and Country A's final fighters were already on the field.
"This round is just for record points," Fiona explained quietly. "You need two wins to qualify. So we're already advancing with Country A."
Ivy nodded, a small "thanks" in her expression as she glanced at Fiona—then shot Renzo another look.
The barrier lifted.
The battle began.
It was tense from the start—less show, more intent. This wasn't just about winning anymore. It was about dominance. Reputation. Being the best.
Then—
"AH—!"
The crowd gasped in unison.
Nathan's cry cut through the arena as one of Country A's fighters struck his leg.
One.
Two.
Three hits—clean, deliberate.
His teammates reacted instantly, pulling him back before it got worse.
"Shit."
Renzo vanished.
In the next second, he was beside Nathan, who had curled in on himself, jaw clenched. The paramedics rushed in immediately.
The stadium speakers crackled.
"Country A is hereby disqualified for the year due to deliberate harm and malicious intent. This decision is effective immediately and without dispute. Further disciplinary actions will be announced. Thank you."