"Now, the final match—Darian's turn," said Clarck, his voice calm but firm, signaling the attention of everyone nearby.
"I can't wait to see the one chosen by the heavens," Lisa replied, casting a sideways glance at Clément, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
Clément, despite being Darian's father, didn't look the least bit excited. While one might have expected him to be bursting with pride or anticipation, he seemed, in fact, rather bored. His disinterest was even more obvious when compared to how invested he had been in previous matches, especially Arthur's.
"This isn't going to be interesting," he muttered.
Lisa looked at him, visibly surprised. "Why not? He's your son. Shouldn't you be more enthusiastic?"
"You'll see for yourself," Clément said simply, almost dismissively.
The match was between Darian and Valérie, a girl from Class 2 who had done surprisingly well in the previous trials. Despite her solid performances, the atmosphere surrounding this fight was heavy with a sense of dread. Everyone looked at her as if she were about to face a public execution rather than a sporting event. Even Valérie herself didn't seem confident. She was trying to keep up appearances, but it was clear she was shaken. This demeanor stood in stark contrast with her usual personality—optimistic, aggressive, and never one to back down from a challenge.
"Besides," Lisa added, her tone slightly more serious now, "her opponent is not just anyone. She's up against the heir of the Eart family."
Lisa had spent years organizing events for noble fighter families, so she knew many of their members by heart. She had planned everything from prestigious balls to solemn funerals. She recognized Valérie the moment she stepped into the ring.
"She's from a good family of skilled fighters. Like the Miles. Even for Darian, this won't be a walk in the park," she said with genuine concern.
Clarck and Clément remained silent, their eyes locked on the arena.
The two fighters stepped into position. Frank, the referee, announced the start of the match.
Without wasting a second, Darian launched forward. His movements were sharp and explosive. He opened with a lightning-fast right hook following a deceptive left feint. Valérie managed to block it just in time. She tried to retaliate with a right hook of her own, but before her punch even reached its target, Darian had already shifted his weight and driven a heavy body shot straight into her abdomen. The punch landed cleanly.
Valérie's own strike landed as well, but it barely affected Darian. He didn't even flinch. The power difference was obvious.
Valérie instinctively stepped back, trying to create distance between them. She retreated across the ring, attempting to catch her breath and assess a strategy. She needed time—time to calm herself and find a way to turn the tide.
But Darian had no intention of dragging the fight out. He wanted to qualify as quickly as possible, to avoid having to participate in the next match. With brutal determination, he closed the gap again, moving like a storm.
He threw a jab aimed at Valérie's face. She blocked it successfully, but that punch had only been a distraction—a smokescreen. The real blow came immediately after: a perfectly placed left straight into her solar plexus. The hit knocked the wind out of her. Before she could even think of reacting, he followed up with a devastating right uppercut.
The crowd winced in unison. The uppercut was too much—it was brutal. Some students looked away, unable to watch any longer.
Frank stepped forward to check on Valérie. She was clearly unable to continue. The hit to the plexus had knocked the air out of her lungs, and the uppercut had left her dazed and barely conscious.
"Darian wins. Sixteen seconds…" Frank announced, almost in disbelief.
Sixteen seconds. It was the fastest match of the tournament so far. Thanks to this performance, Darian, representing the second bracket, would now skip the next round entirely.
"Shit…" muttered Arthur, who had won his match in a little over twenty seconds. He couldn't help but feel both impressed and slightly annoyed.
"What about the first bracket?" Lisa asked, curious.
Clément, still seemingly uninterested, hadn't been paying attention either. He turned to Clarck, hoping for an answer.
Clarck looked back at him with an expression that could only be described as theatrical disappointment. He gazed at Clément as if he had just lost all respect for him—but clearly, he was just messing with him.
"It's Jason," Clarck finally said, as the two fighters from the first bracket began walking toward the ring.
As they approached, Azel turned to his companion.
"Don't take it personally, Elio," he said, walking beside him, "but I've got a score to settle—with your buddy and with Mister Chosen One."
Elio gave a smug little chuckle. "Don't worry, kid. You'll have plenty more chances during your school years."
Arthur, watching from the stands, leaned forward slightly, intrigued.
"I wonder which one of them will come out on top…" he thought, as the two fighters took their positions.