The roar of the crowd still echoed across the arena long after Jiwoo's match ended. Students crowded near the barriers, still buzzing over what they'd seen.
"He beat someone from the top leaderboard!"
"And without using mana again—did you see how clean that finish was?"
Jiwoo stepped down from the stage, the wooden sword still in his hand. His breathing was calm now, but his pulse hadn't caught up. The echo of the fight still ran through his body — every swing, every parry, every faint shift of balance.
Seo Nara had been fast, sharper than most of his opponents so far. He'd only won because he didn't panic — and because something inside him had sharpened mid-battle, like instinct whispering where to move before his eyes even caught up.
He walked down the hall, ignoring the noise of praise and speculation behind him.
"Bro! Bro! Over here!" Minjae's voice rose above the crowd, loud enough to cut through all the chatter. He was waving both arms like a man who had just seen a miracle.
Jiwoo sighed but turned toward him anyway. "You don't have to shout."
"Excuse me?!" Minjae put a hand over his chest, feigning offense. "You just made half the school question the ranking system and I'm supposed to whisper my pride? You're lucky I didn't start chanting your name."
"You would've embarrassed both of us," Jiwoo said.
"Worth it," Minjae grinned. "Dude, did you even realize what you did? She was ranked twelve! That's like punching above your weight class and still winning."
"I just reacted," Jiwoo said, voice flat.
"Yeah, well, your 'reaction' had people thinking you installed a combat mod in your brain." Minjae wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead. "Remind me never to spar with you again."
Before Jiwoo could reply, a crackle of energy rippled through the corridor. Rina walked over, her hair catching faint blue glints of static — lightning mana still clinging to her after her earlier match. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.
"Not bad, Han Jiwoo," she said. "You actually looked competent out there."
"Competent?" Minjae repeated. "He just flattened one of the top duelists!"
Rina smirked. "I said competent, not legendary. Let's not feed his ego too early."
Jiwoo gave her a look. "You're one to talk."
"Hey, I admit it. I'm lightning incarnate," Rina said, pointing at herself. "You? Still working on your mysterious E-rank charm."
Minjae laughed. "You two bicker like you're married already."
Both Jiwoo and Rina turned to glare at him in perfect sync.
"Not funny," they said together.
Minjae held his hands up. "Okay, okay. Just saying — the chemistry's electric."
"Say that again and I'll show you electric," Rina muttered, a faint spark popping between her fingers.
Jiwoo sighed, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You two really have nothing better to do."
"Nope," Minjae said cheerfully. "Our schedules are clear for watching you suffer in your next match."
Rina laughed. "Actually, I'm looking forward to it. Let's see if you can keep that cool face when the next opponent actually uses mana."
As they made their way toward the exit, the sunset bled orange light through the tall glass windows of Eclipse Academy. The crowds thinned, leaving only a hum of conversation and the lingering tension of the tournament.
Jiwoo stayed quiet, eyes distant.
Minjae nudged him. "You good?"
"Yeah," Jiwoo said. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"…How close that fight was."
Rina glanced sideways. "You won, didn't you? Quit overanalyzing. Just train, improve, and keep winning."
Minjae nodded. "Exactly! You're overthinking this, man. Just enjoy the spotlight for once."
Jiwoo didn't answer. He wasn't chasing the spotlight — he just hated the thought of losing again.
Later that Night the training hall was empty, lit only by the faint glow of the mana lamps overhead. The walls hummed softly with energy, casting long shadows across the polished floor.
Jiwoo stood at the center, his wooden sword steady in his hands. Sweat rolled down his temple as he moved through forms — strike, pivot, reset — each motion cleaner, sharper, faster. The exhaustion in his muscles didn't bother him. The repetition calmed him.
One strike. Two. Three.
He'd been training since sunset, chasing that feeling again — that moment during the duel when instinct took over.
"You're still swinging wrong," a voice said.
Jiwoo turned.
Jiwon leaned casually against the doorway, her uniform jacket slung over her shoulder, her expression halfway between amused and critical.
"You should rest," she said. "You just fought hours ago."
"Couldn't sleep," Jiwoo said, straightening.
"Still the same," she sighed, walking closer. "You're lifting your shoulder before every swing. Anyone paying attention will see it coming."
Jiwoo frowned. "I thought I fixed that."
"Not even close." She stepped behind him, lightly pressing a hand to his shoulder. "Relax here. Don't force the motion. Let the blade carry your weight, not your tension."
He adjusted, swung again — cleaner this time. The sound cut sharper through the air. Jiwon smiled faintly. "Better."
Jiwoo glanced at her. "Did you watch the match?"
"I did."
"And?"
She crossed her arms. "You've improved. But you're still two steps behind me."
He smirked. "Then I'll close the gap."
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it."
She looked at him for a long moment before stepping back. "Don't burn yourself out, Jiwoo. The real fights are only beginning."
As she walked to the door, her voice softened. "You did well today."
Jiwoo watched her leave. "Thanks, noona."
The word hung in the air long after she was gone.
He exhaled and looked at his sword again.
One strike. Two. Three.
His movements grew smoother, more focused — until for a split second, the edge of his blade shimmered faintly in the dim light.
Jiwoo froze.
The air around him rippled — soft, almost invisible — like the world itself was bending. Then it faded, leaving only stillness.
"What was that…" he muttered.
The hum of the lamps returned, steady and calm.
He lowered his sword slowly, a faint smile ghosting across his face. "Whatever it was… I'll figure it out."
Outside the hall, Rina and Minjae were walking back from the cafeteria, drinks in hand. The night breeze was cool, the campus quiet.
Rina spotted the faint light through the training hall window. "He's still at it."
Minjae groaned. "Of course he is. The guy doesn't even know what sleep means."
Rina grinned. "If he wins again tomorrow, I'm calling him Robot Jiwoo."
Minjae sighed dramatically. "Then what does that make us?"
"Background extras," she said with a smirk. "But good-looking ones."
They both laughed as they walked off, their voices fading into the night.
Jiwoo stayed behind in the hall, the only sound his slow, steady breathing and the faint echo of his sword through the still air.
"Tomorrow…" he whispered. "I'll be stronger."