Lyrien and Toma spent the afternoon by the lake, enjoying every second of it. They swam, talked, and sometimes just floated in silence, letting the cool water wash away the desert heat.

  Lyrien eventually climbed out and sat on the shore, her wet clothes clinging to her skin. Toma stayed in the water a little longer, watching her with a teasing grin.

  “Your clothes look pretty see-through when they’re wet,” he said casually.

  Lyrien’s face went crimson in an instant. “You jerk! You’ve been staring this whole time and only now you say something?!”

  Before he could react, she jumped back into the water and splashed him with everything she had.

  “Okay, okay! Sorry! Just stop splashing me already!” he laughed, shielding his face.

  “Fine—but only because I’m so nice!”

  “Thank you for your kindness, Lady Lyrien!” he said with mock reverence.

  Lyrien rolled her eyes but smiled. “That’s enough swimming for now.”

  “Yeah,” Toma agreed, stretching his arms. “All this swimming has worn me out. Time to get some sleep.”

  “Now? In the afternoon?” Lyrien asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “We’re leaving at night,” Toma reminded her.

  She yawned despite herself. “Fine… maybe just a short nap.”

  They gathered some large leaves for makeshift beds. By the time Toma returned from checking on the camel, Lyrien was already asleep under a nearby tree.

  He smiled faintly and lay down beside her. I wonder how Arvian and Arlen are doing…

  The thought drifted through his mind as sleep slowly pulled him under.

  ***

  “Toma! Toma! Wake up, Toma!”

  A soft voice broke through the still desert night.

  “Mmh… what is it? Why is such a cute girl waking me up in the middle of the night?” Toma mumbled, eyes still half-shut.

  “Enough joking around—get up already!” Lyrien snapped, lightly smacking his cheeks until his eyes finally opened.

  “Alright, alright! I’m awake!” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his face.

  “Finally! I picked some fruit and refilled our water supply,” Lyrien said proudly, showing the gathered provisions.

  “Great! I’ll eat something, and then we can head out,” Toma replied, stretching his arms.

  “Wait—one more thing!” Lyrien said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are we taking the camel with us?”

  Toma shook his head. “No. It won’t be of any use to us anymore.”

  “Then while you eat, I’ll go pet it one last time!” she said with a soft smile.

  “Camel? Chh… stupid beast…” he muttered under his breath.

  “Did you say something, Toma?”

  “Nothing! Nothing at all. Go ahead and pet it!” he said quickly, forcing a grin.

  When he finished eating, the two of them packed up their supplies and set off once more. The desert was cloaked in darkness, the stars sharp and cold above them. Toma lit a few torches to light their path.

  After about an hour of walking, something flickered in the distance. A faint, warm glow—firelight.

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  “Look over there, someone’s camping!” Lyrien whispered.

  “Yeah,” Toma said, narrowing his eyes. “Put out the torches. We’ll move toward the light.”

  They snuffed out their flames and advanced quietly, their footsteps nearly silent on the sand.

  When they were close enough to see, Toma crouched behind a rock and began to observe.“Two guards, five people sleeping by the fire,” he murmured.

  “Do you have a plan?” Lyrien whispered beside him.

  “Yeah. The key is distraction,” Toma replied with a faint grin. “I’ll explain in a second.”

  ***

  Then, cutting through the stillness, came a desperate cry for help—Lyrien’s voice.

  “Ahh! Help! Someone, please help me!”

  The guards immediately bolted toward the sound.

  All three were men—and when they reached Lyrien, they froze in shock. There she stood, shouting for help, her shirt gone, wearing only a bra.

  “Boys, thank goodness you’re here! I lost my shirt—could you help me find it?” she said sweetly, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing.

  “O-Of course we can help!” one stammered.

  “Wait, I have a sweater here! I’ll give it to you right away!” another said eagerly.

  They were trying to act helpful, but their eyes betrayed them—glued to Lyrien like moths to a flame, staring so hard it was a miracle their eyes didn’t pop out of their heads.

  Toma moved like a shadow through the camp, his footsteps soundless in the sand. The crackling firelight flickered across his face as he slipped between the sleeping boys, each one oblivious to his presence. Bit by bit, he began unclasping the wristbands from their arms. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, smirking. “I can’t believe they actually fell for such a cheap trick.” He peeled the first one off easily — but he didn’t realize that removing a wristband automatically triggered a signal that marked the contestant as eliminated.

  By the time Toma reached for the second one, the entire camp was stirring. The boys blinked awake, confusion turning to alarm. Toma didn’t hesitate; he tore the second wristband free just as its owner sat up, eliminating him on the spot. Two down — but three still remained, and now they were all fully awake.

  “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” one of them shouted, lunging forward with a wild punch.

  Toma caught the attack mid-swing, twisted the boy’s arm behind his back in one swift, fluid motion, and ripped the wristband from his wrist. A shove sent the guy sprawling into his companions. “Pathetic,” he said with a calm, taunting grin. “You’re all so weak.”

  “Damn it! Attack him together!” the boy he’d just defeated yelled, but being out of the game, he could only watch helplessly as his teammates charged.

  The two remaining opponents rushed him from opposite sides. Toma dodged the first punch with ease and countered with a quick elbow to the ribs. The second came in — he met him with a knee to the stomach. They kept coming, but Toma’s movements turned fluid, almost effortless — every strike landing before the enemy could even react. The second tried circling behind him, but Toma pivoted sharply and kicked him off balance, sending him sprawling backward into the sand.

  The air around them pulsed with tension. The two boys kept pressing the attack, but Toma’s movements were effortless — smooth, deliberate, controlled. A sharp elbow to the shoulder, a left hook to the head — each hit landed precisely where it needed to. One of the boys tried a surprise attack from behind, but Toma ducked, driving his knee into the boy’s chest, forcing a gasp from him.

  The last fighter came again, throwing a reckless punch. Toma parried, countered with a quick left-right combo to the jaw, then swept his leg low, kicking at his knee until he dropped to the ground. The two were exhausted now — gasping, staggering, their rhythm broken.

  Toma, however, remained steady. Every breath, every strike, every step was perfectly measured. He caught one opponent’s arm, twisted, and forced him down into the sand. Then he turned to the other and unleashed a flurry of controlled elbow strikes and sharp kicks that left him on his knees.

  He didn’t win through brute force — he broke them down piece by piece, reading their every move, exploiting every opening. When the last one finally stopped struggling, Toma straightened, his breathing calm and steady.

  The fight was over. The victory wasn’t loud or flashy — it was absolute.

  The cold desert wind cut through Toma as he drew in a long breath.

  He moved among the fallen, tugging the watches from the knocked-out students’ wrists before continuing on.

  When he reached the pyramid, he had planned to wait for Lyrien—but a strange sensation prickled at him instead. Someone inside the pyramid gave off an aima far stronger than any of the opponents he’d just faced.

  The pyramid’s layout was simple: a broad water basin stretched across the base, and a set of steps ran up along the edge, leading straight to the top. Toma started climbing the stairs, keeping his eyes and instincts sharp.

  Footsteps echoed above—someone was coming down the steps. At a midpoint they met, and standing at the top was a blond-haired boy, watching him with cool eyes.

  “So you’re the main boss, huh?” Toma said, keeping his tone light as he tried to draw the other out. “I’ve already beaten your companions.”

  “That may be,” the blond boy answered, voice steady, “but believe me—I’m on a completely different level compared to them. I fight well, and I never lose.”

  “Well, at least we have something in common, then,” Toma shot back with a smirk.

  The boy bristled. “Cheeky,” he snapped.

  “But I don’t get it—why are you doing all this? Why are you standing around here instead of finishing the challenge and resting?” Asked Toma, who stood facing the blond boy in confusion.

  “Because I don’t just want to win,” the blond said, a hard edge entering his tone. “I want our class to defeat you. Besides, a red-haired kid and a white-haired kid got here before us.”

  “Arlen and Arvian beat you to it, huh?” Toma replied, amusement in his voice.

  “Shut up,” the blond hissed. “I hate you guys. You get way too much attention because you went on a mission—you act like the whole academy revolves around you. But no. No! Prove that our class is better than yours. Remember my name: Vaen. Vaen will be the one to defeat you!”

  “Alright then,” Toma said, rolling h

  is shoulders and matching the boy’s stare. “Show me what you’ve got, Vaen.”