Lieutenant Esposito's voice echoed through the arena like a gunshot. Time seemed to freeze for an instant, crystallized in that single moment of anticipation.

  Brando clenched his fists. Fifteen meters separated him from Ripa, who stared at him from across the arena with an unsettling smile on his lips. Morning light filtered through the skylights, casting sharp shadows on the volcanic stone floor.

  Students crowded the balcony, forming a ring of spectators that surrounded the arena like vultures waiting for a kill. Their whispers blended into a constant buzz.

  "Ripa's going to destroy him."

  "A [Violet One] against a [Violet Two]? He doesn't stand a chance."

  "How long will he last? A minute?"

  "Against Ripa? Thirty seconds, if he's lucky."

  On the balcony, Giordano gripped the metal railing with such force that his knuckles had turned white. Rusty, beside him, kept all three eyes fixed on the arena. The fur on his back had risen like needles of ice.

  "Come on, Brando," Giordano murmured. "Show these assholes what you're capable of."

  Bianca Ruggeri stood apart, leaning against a column. Her face was a mask of ice, but her eyes didn't miss a single movement. There was something in her gaze, a kind of restrained expectation.

  The air in the arena was dense with repressed energy. Brando's Cold Veins pulsed beneath his skin in a rhythm that harmonized with his accelerated heartbeat. This time would be different. He was no longer the defenseless boy that Ripa had beaten in the alley.

  Silence suddenly fell over the crowd as Ripa took a step forward. The giant moved with his unnatural grace, every muscle in his body tense like a spring ready to snap. The scar on his forehead gleamed in the morning light like a war medal.

  Esposito watched from the balcony. The birthmark on his cheek pulsed to the rhythm of a crazed clock, betraying his poorly concealed excitement. Three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds to prove who truly deserved to leave the Great Dome. He wanted to screw Brando once and for all—he wouldn't allow him to follow them.

  Brando's KryoWatch emitted a subtle beep. The timer had started. The duel had begun.

  Brando jumped back five meters with a fluid motion. The distance between him and Ripa increased to twenty meters. He was surprised by the ease of movement. [Violet One] had enhanced his body far beyond his expectations. His legs moved like steel springs, ready to leap in any direction.

  "This time won't be like the last," Brando said, his voice steady despite his heart hammering in his chest.

  Ripa didn't respond. He remained motionless as an ice statue, his eyes fixed on Brando with predatory intensity.

  A shiver ran down Brando's spine. Ripa's silence was more disturbing than any threat. He concentrated, letting the cold flow through his veins. The air around his hands crystallized.

  With a fluid arm movement, Brando materialized a dozen ice projectiles. Spikes sharp as razors, shaped to penetrate and tear. He hurled them at Ripa in a lethal barrage, each aimed at a different vital point.

  The projectiles cut through the air with a sinister hiss. Ripa didn't move. He merely raised his right hand in front of him, fingers spread.

  In an instant, ice materialized before him. Not simple crystals, but a perfectly circular shield a meter in diameter. The surface was polished like glass, without a single imperfection.

  Brando's projectiles shattered against the shield in a shower of useless fragments. The sound of impact resonated throughout the arena like a gunshot.

  The crowd held their breath. A murmur of amazement spread among the spectators.

  "An ice shield?"

  "That's impossible. You need at least [Violet Three] for such a complex structure."

  "Ripa is a monster..."

  Brando gritted his teeth. He had put everything into creating those projectiles, had infused every ounce of energy he had into that attack. But Ripa had neutralized it with a gesture, as if swatting away an annoying fly.

  An unsettling smile spread across Ripa's face. His eyes gleamed with a demonic light as he stared at Brando through the translucent shield. Not a word, not a sound. Just that gaze that promised pain.

  Ripa's movement was a flash. His muscles tensed beneath his uniform as he gripped the ice shield. His body rotated in a perfect pirouette, loading energy into every fiber of his being.

  The shield cut through the air like a circular blade. The hiss it produced was sharp, almost ultrasonic. Brando saw death coming at the speed of sound.

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  His body moved on instinct. He threw himself sideways with all the strength he had. The ice brushed his shoulder, so close he felt its coldness on his skin.

  BOOM!

  The impact against the arena wall was deafening. The shield embedded itself in the volcanic stone like a dart in a target, creating a web of cracks at the point of impact. It hadn't even chipped. And Brando didn't even have time to catch his breath.

  Ripa moved. His sprint was that of a predator, explosive and lethal. The distance between them vanished in the blink of an eye. Ice enveloped his right fist like a deadly glove.

  The impact to Brando's stomach was like being hit by a train. The air abandoned his lungs. The world flipped as his body flew five meters.

  The arena floor welcomed him with a dull thud. Pain exploded in his stomach like a supernova. Memories of the beating in the alley flashed before his eyes like a horror film.

  From the balcony, the crowd erupted in shouts of excitement.

  "Kill him!"

  "Tear him apart!"

  "Kick his ass!"

  "Destroy that bastard!"

  Brando struggled to his feet. His legs trembled. Pain pulsed in his abdomen like a second heartbeat. But he couldn't surrender.

  Ripa watched him from above, the ice on his fist glittering like bloodied diamonds.

  "I told you I would break you," he whispered, but his words reached Brando clear as crystal. "This is just the first lesson."

  Brando lunged. He didn't waste time materializing more ice. He charged forward with an explosive sprint, leveraging the new strength flowing through his body. The distance between them vanished in an instant.

  His fist cut through the air toward Ripa's face. A sharp, direct blow, loaded with all his rage.

  Ripa's eyes widened in surprise. He shifted at the last second. Brando's fist grazed his cheek, close enough to displace the air.

  "You almost hit me," Ripa rubbed his jaw with a sneer. "But not good enough."

  Ice exploded from Ripa's hands, enveloping them like deadly gloves. Brando did the only thing he could: he covered his forearms with violet ice and assumed a defensive stance.

  The first impact was like being struck by a sledgehammer. The ice on Brando's forearms vibrated dangerously. Ripa didn't stop. The blows rained down one after another, a storm of ice-enhanced punches.

  "Brando! Don't give up!" Giordano's voice rose from the balcony. Even Rusty on his shoulder seemed agitated.

  Brando held on. The ice on his forearms cracked more with each blow. The power difference was obvious: Ripa's ice was denser, more resistant. Each impact sent shockwaves through Brando's arms.

  The crowd screamed, but their voices were a distant buzz. All Brando could hear was the sound of breaking ice, his frantic heartbeat, and Ripa's heavy breathing.

  Meanwhile, Bianca observed in silence from her position, her green eyes shining with curiosity.

  A blow stronger than the others shattered the ice on Brando's forearms. The fragments flew everywhere, glittering in the morning light like bloodied diamonds.

  "It's over, Zeta." Ripa raised his fist, charging it with ice denser than before. The smile on his face was that of a predator who knows it has won.

  Brando gasped. He couldn't withstand another direct hit. His body screamed with pain, every muscle trembling from the effort. That's when he felt it: a familiar tingling in his Cold Veins, a power pressing to be released.

  The Rust Ice pulsed inside him, like a caged animal begging to be unleashed.

  Time seemed to slow.

  The Rust Ice throbbed in Brando's Cold Veins. It would be so easy. A thought, a gesture, and with the Rust Ice he could face Ripa on equal footing.

  The crowd, the pain, everything vanished as Brando weighed his choice.

  I could do it.

  One single blow of Rust Ice and the shock in Ripa's eyes would be priceless. The entire arena would see the powerful [Violet Two] brought to his knees by a Zeta. The temptation was overwhelming, the power pressing against his veins like quicksilver.

  But then what?

  Images flashed through his mind: the stares of other students, the questions, the investigations. He wasn't ready. Not yet. Not with Esposito looking for any excuse to expel him, not with Bianca's mystery still unsolved, not with everything he had discovered in the Daedalus.

  I can't.

  The decision crystallized in his mind, cold and clear as ice. With titanic effort, Brando pushed back the Rust Ice. The power rebelled, but he forced it deep into his Cold Veins.

  Ripa's fist was coming. The ice covering it gleamed with deadly light.

  In that final moment, Brando gathered every ounce of strength he had left. His Cold Veins burned with effort as he materialized a shield of violet ice. It was crude, imperfect, nothing compared to Ripa's refined creations. But it was all he had.

  The shield formed just in time to intercept the blow. The ice shattered into a thousand pieces, but it had done its job.

  Surprise flashed in Ripa's eyes. His fist halted for a fraction of a second in a microscopic hesitation, but it was all Brando was waiting for.

  Brando moved. A thin layer of ice wrapped around his fist as he lunged forward with a cry of defiance. He didn't have the devastating power of Ripa's blows, but he had something more important: the element of surprise.

  His fist broke through Ripa's guard. The ice on his knuckles shattered on impact with the giant's chin, but the force of the blow connected.

  Ripa's head snapped back. He staggered, more from shock than pain. Silence fell over the arena like a lead shroud.

  A Zeta had hit Davide Ripa.

  Time seemed to stop. The crowd held their breath. Giordano stood motionless on the balcony, eyes wide. Even Bianca leaned slightly forward, a spark of interest in her green eyes.

  The birthmark on Esposito's cheek pulsed frantically.

  Ripa's growl broke the spell. The fury in his eyes was something primordial. He prepared to lunge at Brando like an unleashed beast...

  "TIME'S UP!"

  Esposito's voice thundered through the arena. His tone was reluctant, almost disappointed.

  Brando stood motionless with his fist still raised, his breathing heavy and burning in his lungs. Sweat dripped down his face as he stared at Ripa. And the giant? The giant looked at him with an explosive mixture of shock and murderous rage. His jaw was clenched and the muscles in his neck tense as steel cables. But he could do nothing. The duel was over.

  It wasn't a victory. Not in the traditional sense. But Brando had done something no one thought possible: he had endured. He had fought. And above all, he had struck the unbeatable Davide Ripa.

  "Incredible," someone whispered from the balcony.

  "A Zeta..."

  "He really..."

  Giordano erupted in a shout of joy, with Rusty wagging his tail on his shoulder. But Brando didn't hear them. His eyes were fixed on Ripa, who massaged his jaw with a look that promised vengeance.

  He had survived. He hadn't revealed the Rust Ice. And above all, he had proven to everyone that even a Zeta could make his mark.

  But as the excited crowd commented and Esposito called the next duel, one question echoed in Brando's mind: what would await him in the outside world?