Damien's eyes fluttered open, but he wasn't in his bed. Bright, sterile lights overhead stabbed into his vision as he lay motionless, a heavy fog clouding his mind. His body felt foreign—aching, heavy, and sluggish. Slowly, the realization began to sink in.
His jaw throbbed, his limbs felt weak, and his thoughts circled like a broken record—'I guess I have someone I need to kill too.'
Julius had humiliated him. It wasn't just a simple defeat—he'd been utterly destroyed. In front of everyone. In front of Summer. The thought twisted his stomach into knots. Damn. I probably looked like a total loser in front of her…
The sting of that humiliation cut deeper than the pain from the punches. It lingered, bitter and bitterer still. But despite the weight of it all, there was no regret. If he had to do it again, he wouldn't hesitate. He would just make sure to never underestimate Julius again.
Damien had always prided himself on his strength, even without an ability. But Julius had taken him down in seconds—seconds. His fists clenched involuntarily as anger simmered inside him, boiling over like a raging storm.
"Ah, you're finally awake," a soft, high-pitched voice cut through the haze of his thoughts.
He blinked, struggling to focus. Mrs. Abby, the academy nurse, sat beside his bed. Her frail hands rested gently in her lap, and her kind blue eyes were fixed on him with quiet concern.
Damien's throat was dry, his voice hoarse as he rasped, "How long was I out?"
She sighed softly, a gentle, almost maternal sound. "Six days."
His eyes widened in shock. Six days? That couldn't be right. It was just one punch. Luka had his arm and leg severed and was walking around the same day. How could he be out for six days?
"Your case was… different," Mrs. Abby said, almost as if she could read his mind. "Julius's ability doesn't just enhance his strength. It also disrupts brain function. The moment he landed that uppercut, your body shut down. Like a switch being flipped."
Damien blinked, the gravity of her words sinking in. So that bastard didn't just knock me out—he put me in a coma. His fists clenched tighter, the heat of anger building in his chest. I really am going to kill him.
He had never been the vengeful type, but right now? All he felt was raw, burning hatred. Not just for the humiliation but for something far more important—Julius had stolen his preparation, his chance at the tournament, and maybe even his future.
"Wait," Damien suddenly blurted, sitting up quickly, despite the fog in his head. His vision swam as he forced himself to focus. "The tournament—when does it start?"
Mrs. Abby hesitated, her gaze softening with quiet empathy. "I'm sorry, dear. But you have 20 minutes."
The words struck like a thunderclap. Twenty minutes?!
His body ached. His head throbbed. Grogginess clung to him like a wet blanket, but none of that mattered now. He shot out of the bed, moving far faster than he should have. His head almost collided with the ceiling as he scrambled to stand. The sudden motion pulled the IV from his arm, sending a sharp sting through his skin as blood began to drip onto the floor.
"Thanks for patching me up!" he called over his shoulder, not bothering to pause for a second as he bolted down the hallway.
The gymnasium doors crashed open with a loud bang, and Damien was assaulted by blinding light. The usual dim, ambient glow was replaced by harsh overhead lights, bright enough to make him squint. The overwhelming noise of the crowd hit him like a tidal wave, the buzz of their voices and the thundering footfalls rattling his skull.
He felt the weight of dozens of eyes on him—some curious, others indifferent. As his vision adjusted, he noticed the Captains and lieutenants of the ten deviant cohorts seated in private rooms, watching the matches unfold. They were easily over two hundred feet away, but the pressure radiating from them was almost palpable. It made Damien's skin crawl.
'Creepy bastards.'
But that wasn't what sent his stomach plummeting.
The tournament had already started.
He felt a sudden panic rise in his chest. Where is it?
His gaze darted upward to the massive digital bracket hanging over the arena. His heart thudded in his chest as he scanned the matchups, praying he hadn't been disqualified.
Then, he saw it.
His name.
Next up.
A wave of relief washed over him, but the sharp sting of anxiety quickly overshadowed it. He hadn't been disqualified, but that didn't mean he had time to prepare. Worse still, his stomach growled audibly, twisting painfully.
God, I'm starving. Why do I have to fight now?
He shoved the hunger aside, forcing himself to focus on the matches before him.
The gym had undergone a massive transformation since he last saw it. It was no longer just grey walls and blue mats, a simple training space. The academy had used a geoshaper to reshape the entire battlefield. Now, the awakened fighters clashed in a blistering desert, sand swirling around their feet as the heat warped the air. Meanwhile, the under-seventeen division fought in a frozen tundra, their every movement causing the ice beneath them to crack. The shifting landscapes weren't random—they were replicas of the islands.
A chill ran down Damien's spine. He tried to push the thought of the islands away, but the terrain beneath his feet made it impossible. The very ground beneath him mimicked some of the most infamous conquered islands—the places where death was more certain than survival. Those islands were the reason Deviants existed, the reason he'd been born into a war he never asked for, the reason his family was gone.
His fingers curled into tight fists as he tried to steady his breathing, pushing the thoughts away. His body wasn't ready. His mind wasn't ready.
But none of that mattered.
Whether he was ready or not, his fight was about to begin.
Damien made his way toward the other deviants waiting for their matches. As he neared, a small, familiar voice called to him, and he turned to find Summer standing there, a warm smile lighting her face. She was about to fight in the awakened division. Then it hit him—her birthday had been just three days before his, and he had completely forgotten. His lips curled upward in a wry grin. Thank God I got knocked out, or she would've killed me.
Before he could say anything, Summer threw her arms around him in a tight hug. The warmth of her body radiated against his, sending an unfamiliar heat to his face. "Thank you for standing up for me," she murmured, her voice full of gratitude. Damien froze, caught off guard. "…Uh, yeah. Of course. Anytime."
As she pulled away, she rummaged through her bag, eventually pulling out a sandwich wrapped in a ziplock bag. Turning her head away, clearly embarrassed, she muttered, "I made this for you earlier."
Damien's brain short-circuited for a moment. Summer. Made. Food. For as long as he'd known her, Summer was a terrible cook. Every time she tried, the results were… memorable in the worst way. He braced himself, expecting the worst, but his stomach was already growling in protest.
Before she could react, Damien snatched the sandwich from her hands and devoured it at an inhuman speed. Summer blinked, surprised. This was an accomplishment—Damien, the fastest eater she knew, was breaking his own records.
But inside, Damien was struggling. This is terrible. The taste was all wrong. It was as if she had managed to make bread, meat, and cheese taste like punishment. His body screamed at him to stop—to spare himself from the horror—but he kept eating. Because she made it for him.
Somewhere in the middle of his suffering, the realization hit him hard. Despite knowing she wasn't a great cook, despite everything, Summer had gone out of her way to make him something to eat. And somehow, that made him happy.
When he finally swallowed the last bite, he looked up at her, managing a smile. "Thank you. It was delicious."
Summer beamed at him, genuinely pleased, but before she could say anything, a loud, booming voice echoed across the gymnasium.
"Summer Park and Sarah Williams, please report to the awakened arena."
Then, a second announcement: "Damien Love and Jerimiah Rodgers, report to the unawakened arena."