The day of the duel finally arrived.
The combat platform of Ayodhya Gurukul was surrounded by disciples from all classes. Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire.
"He won't come."
"He was only Shishya Rank 2."
"The Forbidden Beast Mountain is filled with Shishya and Sadhak monsters—there's no way he survived."
At the centre of the platform stood Garvit, arms crossed, his aura openly released. Shishya Rank 6 prana rolled off him in waves, filled with arrogance and certainty.
He smirked. "Looks like I win by default."
Just as an elder stepped forward to declare the duel concluded—
A figure leapt onto the platform.
Thud.
The sound echoed clearly.
The entire courtyard fell silent.
Siddharth stood upright, calm and composed. Slowly, he released his prana.
The air trembled.
"Shishya… Rank 4?!"
Shock exploded through the crowd. Two whole ranks higher in just fifteen days—something that should have been impossible.
Garvit's expression twisted in disbelief.
Siddharth said nothing.
So this is how it feels, he thought quietly.
Power… that no one understands.
No one knew what truly happened in the mountain.
No one knew about the eyes.
And no one ever would.
Garvit scoffed, recovering his arrogance. "So you survived. But challenging me with a two-rank difference? I never thought you'd be this stupid."
Siddharth laughed softly.
"We'll see," he replied. "Only one of us will still be standing."
The elder raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Garvit charged instantly.
His fist surged forward, prana roaring as he unleashed Bull Fist, a martial art whose power brushed against the Sadhak level.
To the crowd, Siddharth barely moved.
To Siddharth—
Everything slowed.
He saw the tightening of Garvit's shoulder, the rotation of his waist, the exact path the punch would take.
He stepped aside.
The fist missed his face by less than an inch.
Another punch.
Another dodge.
Again.
Again.
Each movement was precise, minimal, flawless.
The crowd stared in disbelief.
Twenty punches passed.
Not one landed.
Garvit's breathing became heavy, rage boiling over.
"Is this all you can do?!" he shouted. "Run and dodge?!"
Siddharth didn't respond.
He was watching.
Memorizing.
Understanding.
The stance.
The rhythm.
The force transfer.
When Garvit charged again, Siddharth stepped into motion—
—and struck.
His fist followed the exact same trajectory.
The same posture.
The same technique.
Bull Fist.
From Garvit's blind spot.
Bang!
The impact sent Garvit flying backwards. He slammed into the ground, coughing violently as blood spilled from his mouth.
Silence.
Utter silence.
Siddharth stood there, steady and unmoving.
No tricks.
No strange abilities.
Only skill.
The elder finally spoke, voice heavy with disbelief.
"The winner—Siddharth."
In a single duel—
Siddharth rose from last place to first place in the Normal Class.
The crowd erupted.
Arjun rushed forward, laughing loudly as he grabbed Siddharth by the shoulders.
"Looks like from now on, you're the one saving me!" he teased.
Siddharth smiled faintly.
A short distance away, Shraddha watched quietly.
She was happy—genuinely happy.
But there was sadness too.
He no longer needed her protection.
And now… she had no excuse to stay close to him.
As Siddharth looked at the fallen Garvit, his gaze remained calm.
The eyes, he thought.
No one must ever know.