Lyrien, Arlen, Toma, and Arvian gathered in the infirmary, still processing everything that had happened. Lyrien leaned closer, worry clouding her expression as she spoke. “Are you alright, Arvian?”

  Arvian took a long sip from his water bottle before reassuring her. “Of course. Kaine healed my injuries right away.”

  Arlen chuckled, unable to hold back his amusement. “Even so, your opponent actually made you sweat this time!”

  “Sure,” Arvian admitted with a calm shrug, “but honestly, that’s what I expect from a third-year. Even then, I’m still going to win this tournament.”

  Toma immediately fired back with a competitive spark in his eyes. “Not if I have something to say about it!”

  Arvian gave both him and Lyrien a serious look. “Toma… and you too, Lyrien—please be careful. The third-years are incredibly strong. At this point in the championship, there are no easy matches left. Everything from here on is tougher.”

  “Alright!” Lyrien answered with full determination.

  Arvian smiled approvingly at that. “By the way, Toma, what time is your match today?”

  “At three, last match of the day.”

  “Good. Then I’ll be there to watch,” Arvian said before stretching his arms. “But for now, I should get some rest.” He turned to Lyrien. “And you—you’re up soon, against the student president, right?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “So I’m heading out soon to prepare.”

  A heavy voice suddenly came from behind them.

  “Be careful, little girl. The student president isn’t someone you can take lightly. I know that well—I’m in the same class as him.”

  They all turned as Thonk approached.

  “What!? Thonk? What are you doing here?” Arvian asked, clearly surprised.

  “I came to congratulate my opponent,” Thonk replied with unexpected calm. “Losing never feels good, but you have to acknowledge when someone is better.” He stepped forward and offered his massive hand. “Congratulations, Arvian. You’re very talented.”

  Arvian shook it. “Those rock-hard hands of yours… quite the ability. I think you’ll get into the Earth Division without any trouble.”

  “That’s the plan once I finish the academy,” Thonk said with a grin. “Though I got knocked out too early this year… but honestly, I didn’t expect the first-years to be this strong.”

  Toma crossed his arms. “Then what’s the student president’s problem with us?”

  Thonk burst into booming laughter. “He’s… quite an interesting guy. He’s been the student president for almost two years now. When he was a first-year, he actually won this entire tournament once already. That victory got him the fame he needed to secure his position.”

  Thonk’s tone shifted, growing more serious.

  “But last year, he lost in the finals to an unbelievably talented first-year. That kid was so skilled and so smart that he skipped a whole grade—completed every academic subject and combat exam in his second year. He’s already part of the royal army now.” Thonk let out a breath, remembering. “I’m telling you, he was a massive talent. There’s no shame in losing to someone like him.”

  Arlen leaned in with curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “And what happened after that?”

  Thonk folded his arms, the expression on his face turning serious. “Well, the student president still hasn’t gotten over that defeat. It left a crack in his so-called ‘perfection.’ Ever since then, he can't stand first-years… or anyone more popular than he is.”

  He suddenly pointed directly at Toma. “Especially you, blue-haired kid.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Because right now, you’re the most popular among the fans. From what I’ve heard, they even started selling blue wigs around the academy today. And they’re selling out fast.”

  Toma blinked. “Wow… never would’ve imagined that.”

  Thonk laughed loudly. “Anyway, all of you have a real chance at winning—just stay alert. But I’ve got to get going. Good luck, first-years!”

  He waved and walked off.

  Arlen watched him leave and let out a small exhale. “He’s actually a pretty decent guy.”

  Toma nodded. “Yeah.”

  Arvian glanced at the clock. “Hey, Lyrien’s match starts in half an hour. Shouldn’t you two get moving?”

  “You’re right, we should,” Lyrien said, already shifting her stance to leave.

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  On the way to the arena, Arlen and Toma were chatting, but Toma soon noticed that Lyrien had grown unusually quiet behind them. He leaned toward Arlen and whispered into his ear, “Go ahead and save us some seats. I want to give Lyrien a bit of a pep talk.”

  “Alright, bro. See you there!” Arlen said before running ahead.

  Toma slowed his pace a little. “Lyrien, Arlen had something to take care of. Come on, I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

  “Okay.”

  They continued down the hallway, and at last Lyrien spoke, worries slipping into her voice. “Toma… you and Arvian never seem afraid of your opponents.”

  “That’s a good question,” Toma replied. “But I follow a simple saying: if you’re afraid, you’ve already lost. A warrior can’t afford to hesitate. If fear takes over, the fight is already over before it starts.”

  He gave her a gentle smile. “Even if you don’t win, it’s better to know you gave everything, instead of wondering afterward if you had more inside you. Try to face things like that.”

  “Yes, Toma-sensei!” Lyrien said playfully but with a sincere smile, stopping in front of her locker room door. “And… thank you again. For everything you’ve done for me throughout this whole championship. Thanks to you, I’ve improved a lot—and I’ve become stronger mentally too.”

  “Come on, Lyrien… I already told you—that’s what friends are for.”

  Lyrien suddenly stepped forward and wrapped him in a warm hug. “Even so… thank you.”

  Toma froze. Completely startled. His mind blanked.

  Should he hug her back?

  Should he say something?

  He couldn’t decide—his body refused to move.

  And Lyrien held him just a moment longer.

  Before Toma could even react, Lyrien slipped away from him and darted into the changing room, cheeks blazing red. Toma stood frozen in the corridor like a statue, mind racing.

  What was that just now? That feeling again… What should I have done?!

  Inside, Lyrien pressed her back against the door and covered her chest with a trembling hand, desperately trying to calm her heartbeat.

  I hope Toma didn’t misunderstand that. Maybe… maybe that was too much? Ahh — I’d better get changed quickly.

  Toma hurried back to the seats, still dazed. Arlen was already waiting there, tapping his foot.

  Arlen’s impatience showed as he leaned forward. “There you are! Did you talk to Lyrien?”

  Toma blinked and rubbed the back of his neck, still flustered from the hug. “Yeah — I managed to.”

  “Good. The match is about to start.”

  From below, the commentator’s voice filled the arena with its usual energy.

  “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! The championship continues with even more spectacular matches! Before this one begins, here’s an interesting note: two of the youngest rising talents from the noble Vandemire family will face each other today—first-year Lyrien Vandemire versus her cousin Velk Vandemire. And in the VIP stands we have the Captain of the Water Division—Velk’s older sister, who’s also a cousin of Lyrien.”

  As the announcement echoed, Lyrien stepped into the arena and was immediately met by a wall of sound. The cheering crowd was enormous; for a moment the sheer volume overwhelmed her.

  Then she remembered Toma’s words and forced herself to breathe slow and steady.

  She straightened, squared her shoulders, and took her place in the center of the arena.

  That’s when Velk moved in front of her, towering and cold.

  “I’ll give you one last chance,” he warned, voice low and icy. “Surrender the match now.”

  Lyrien didn’t hesitate. “Sorry, but that won’t be possible.”

  Velk’s eyes darkened, the familiar superiority leaking through his voice as he reminded her, “I told you from the very beginning—when you first came to this academy—not to bother me and not to get in my way.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Lyrien answered without blinking. “I’ll just do everything I can.”

  The bell rang at that exact moment, followed by the commentator’s excited roar echoing across the arena.

  “The match begins! Two Vandemires—an intrafamily battle. What excitement!”

  Lyrien was the first to move, launching a concentrated, continuous stream of water straight toward Velk. He rose into the air with effortless agility, flipping above the attack and diving down for a fast counter. Lyrien met him with a solid water shield before he could land the hit, and she struck back immediately—rapid, precise water orbs pelting toward him in a relentless barrage.

  Up in the stands, Arlen jumped to his feet. “That’s great!”

  Toma leaned forward with a grin. “Yes! Atta girl!”

  Below them, the pace of the fight only grew sharper.

  Lyrien lifted her hands, studying Velk’s movements with steady focus. She could already tell—he was impatient. He wouldn’t wait. And just as she predicted, he suddenly lunged forward, a razor-thin water jet shooting from his right hand, aimed directly at her chest.

  She threw herself sideways. The cold spray grazed her arm—sharp as a knife, but familiar. She sprang back up, and before her feet fully touched the ground, her palms burst open with her own water blast—wider, more spread, raw force over precision.

  Velk barely slipped past it; the blast detonated into mud behind him.

  He moves well… faster than before.

  Lyrien’s pulse quickened.

  Velk came again, this time with both hands. Two blade-like arcs of water sliced toward her. She retreated on instinct, dropping to one knee, then thrusting a dense, powerful stream upward from her left hand.

  Velk’s eyes widened—caught off guard. He braced, but the rising wave still slammed into his chest and shoved him half a step back.

  “Beautiful counter from Lyrien!” the commentator roared. “Looks like she’s not relying only on defense!”

  Velk’s expression tightened. This was where he started taking things seriously.

  He slid forward with a swift, fluid motion, and Lyrien felt it in her bones—he wanted to drag her into close combat.

  I won’t let him.

  The tendons in her hands tightened. Water burst from both palms—not in steady streams, but in rapid, pulse-like blasts that struck like physical force. Velk tried to push through them, leaning forward, but each burst hammered him back again and again.

  Lyrien felt it with absolute clarity now: she was controlling the tempo.

  Every pulse pushed Velk farther away.

  He doesn’t have enough time to fire his own attacks… I’m too fast for him.

  One more powerful blast sent Velk’s balance over the edge. His heels skidded across the wet stone floor, both of them surrounded by the aftermath of their clashing water.

  The crowd erupted with raw excitement.

  “Wow! Lyrien is clearly taking control!” the commentator shouted. “Velk is in trouble… serious trouble!”

  Velk scrambled to his feet—but Lyrien was already a step ahead.

  She inhaled, pulled both hands close to her chest, then thrust them forward in a sweeping motion.

  A wide, curved wave burst forth. Velk threw his arms up to block, but the force still lifted him off balance and hurled him sideways. He slipped again—this time sliding across the soaked stone floor in a completely uncontrolled arc.

  Lyrien’s breathing remained steady. Her muscles were tense, ready, but far from spent.

  Velk, on the other hand, looked shaken. His breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts. His rhythm—gone.

  This is my rhythm now. My battlefield.

  Lyrien stepped forward slowly, water gathering and swirling around her hands with calm strength.

  Velk

  backed away.

  For the first time.

  The crowd roared in approval.

  But the battle was far from over.