(POV Godwell)
I scanned the stands one last time.
No Irene.
Obviously.
I had traveled all the way here to find him and, as if by chance, the gentleman had decided to disappear.
I sighed before sitting down.
Good.
Since I was there...
Might as well stay.
Below, a newcomer had just entered the arena.
He had barely had time to set foot in the ring when the whispers began.
– all these little ones think they can join us
– The new guy from the northern section?
- uhh
– They are not our enemies?
– It seems he beat three of his friends to prove his loyalty.
I leaned back against the back of my seat.
Three people?
He betrayed so easily, he never rose through the ranks.
He looks far too proud.
I suppressed a smile.
They were all like that at the beginning.
Little arrogant one.
They arrived here with their big dreams, their confidence, and this strange feeling that they were going to shake things up in their first week.
Then they would meet someone who was really strong.
A simple grade 6 was enough to cool them down, and reality hit them hard.
THINK!
The signal sounded.
The fight began.
The newcomer rushed forward immediately.
Too fast.
His opponent dodged with a sideways movement, causing him to lose his balance.
The kid just barely managed to catch himself.
– He's very stupid, closing his eyes, what a stupid idea.
I whisper.
A few laughs broke out in the stands.
I shook my head.
– Too predictable.
Two guys next to me heard me.
They turned around.
One of them recognized me and immediately lowered his voice.
– The White Hand...
I pretended not to hear.
I hadn't come for them.
I was still looking for Irene.
Every time a figure entered the arena, my gaze instinctively rose.
Still nothing.
An hour passed.
Then a second one.
The fighting continued.
In my eyes they were all bad.
No potential.
But I began, despite myself, to take an interest in the confrontations.
It was more pleasant than staying locked in my room thinking about nothing.
With each victory, the newcomers received applause.
With each defeat, they left the ring with a lesson they will probably not forget.
I recognized some of the styles.
One fighter prioritized speed.
Another relied on his power.
A third had good reflexes but thought too much before acting.
None of them had the potential to become dangerous later on.
Then the conversations changed abruptly.
The noise decreased.
I glanced at the entrance.
Someone was coming.
The newcomers instinctively moved aside.
– Habib Himrad...
I sat up.
Finally, a bit of action.
Habib was walking calmly towards the ring.
He remained our leader despite his defeat.
He didn't need to raise his voice to get silence; he was the big fish in this aquarium for little tadpoles.
I watched him step into the ring.
A smile appeared on my face.
Finally, something interesting.
An official approached him.
They appear to be exchanging a few words.
Then Habib looked at the newcomers.
– Six.
he launched
I hope he doesn't get humiliated.
Even the person in charge seemed to hesitate.
– Six fighters?
Habib nodded.
- At the same time.
Murmurs rippled through the stands.
Ah.
The HIMRADs always do too much.
The six volunteers took their turn climbing up.
Some seemed overconfident.
Others tried to hide it.
I already knew that look.
They thought that numbers would make the difference.
Six against one.
They were probably right to think so.
The signal sounded.
The six of them set off together.
Habib doesn't move.
One second.
Two.
Then the first one lunges at him.
Habib pivot.
The fighter passes in front of him.
A single dry foot hook is enough to unbalance him.
The second one tries to take advantage of the opening.
Habib simply raised his arm to block his attack before pushing him back.
Pathetic, everyone wants to stand out.
The third one arrived from behind.
Habib found himself seized by the waist.
He throws a punch and uses the momentum of the fifth opponent to hit the third.
The stands exploded.
I smile.
- obviously .
The first three looked at each other.
Good idea.
They had just realized that they could not face it separately.
It's a shame the last three still wanted to stand out.
They surround him.
Habib raised his eyes slightly and smiled.
I recognized that little smile.
He had finally found something that interested him.
The fourth attack.
Then the fifth one.
And the sixth.
Habib moved between them with almost irritating precision.
With all those unnecessary movements they were making, he didn't waste a single bit of energy.
He only struck when he needed to.
But despite everything, the fourth man tried to take him from the side.
Habib bent down.
The shot went over his head.
He immediately stood up and pushed his opponent away.
The fifth one arrived.
Habib stopped him abruptly.
The sixth hesitated now.
A fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Habib was already in front of him.
He wasted no time; the six newcomers were either on the ground or out of the ring.
Silence.
Then the stands exploded.
I remained silent.
I had known Habib long enough to know that he had not yet given all that he had.
He may have lost a battle against the "religious sect" but he is still comparable to a deputy section chief.
That's what annoyed me about him.
He could make things look simple.
Even when it absolutely wasn't.
The responsible one takes the main.
– Victory for Habib Himrad!
The applause intensified.
Habib stepped out of the ring without even looking around.
Then, as he passed in front of the stands, his gaze met mine.
He stopped.
– Godwell.
I stood up.
– Chef.
He briefly observed the arena.
– Are you watching the new ones?
– I came to look for someone.
– Irene?
I frowned.
– not necessarily
Habib did not respond immediately.
His gaze remained fixed on me.
Then he shook his head slightly.
– of course, "not necessarily".
Another one times … it gave the impression of knowing something.
I felt my irritation returning.
He continued on his way and I watched him walk away.
Odd.
Very strange.
I took out my phone.
Still no notification.
I locked the screen.
Good.
I was going to wait a little longer.
After all, I was already there.
I sat back down.
Downstairs, the new guys were already starting to fight again; I wasn't really watching them anymore.
My gaze was lost in the crowd.
Somewhere.
I just hoped it wasn't what I thought.
Because if that were the case...
I'm starting to have a very bad feeling.