Zareck's legs burned as he slipped an arm under Malichi's shoulder.
Malichi was tall for his age, broader than most thirteen year olds, and right now he felt heavier than he ever had. It was the weight of someone who had emptied himself completely and was still forcing his body to stay upright out of stubborn will alone, no doubt.
Will took the other side without a word.
Together, they steadied Malichi until he could stand on his own two feet, even if his knees still shook.
"Easy," Will muttered. "Don't fall now. You already showed everyone enough."
Malichi let out a tired breath that turned into a weak laugh. "You say that like I had a choice."
Zareck smiled faintly but kept his eyes sharp as he scanned the arena.
The chaos was gone.
What had once been a swirling mess of bodies, shouting, clashing techniques, and frantic movement had thinned to almost nothing. Cultivation instructors moved calmly now, escorting the last defeated teens off the raised floor. The mock stadium felt huge all of a sudden, empty in a way that made sound carry too clearly.
It hit Zareck then.
They were the only ones left.
Just the three of them standing in this little corner of the arena.
He glanced at Will, then back at Malichi.
They had done it.
The kids who had rushed them earlier were gone. The group that had followed Elijah had been taken out fast once Zareck and Will moved in. Zareck had deliberately stayed away from Elijah himself. That fight had been Malichi's. Anything else would have been an insult, and Zareck knew Malichi well enough to understand that.
"You were insane," Will said lightly, breaking the silence. "Twenty five people. I thought you'd collapse before we had time to arrive."
Malichi rolled his neck slowly, wincing. "I almost did."
Zareck spoke up. "You didn't."
Malichi looked at him, eyes sharp even through exhaustion. For a moment, there was something like shared understanding there.
Then slow footsteps echoed across the arena floor.
Zareck turned.
Marrionette had stepped onto the stage.
Up close, the pressure she carried was impossible to ignore. It was not aggressive, not even fully intentional, but it weighed on the air all the same. Zareck felt it press against his skin.
This was a Dantian Foundation cultivator.
A stage of power that lay well beyond their means.
The three of them straightened instinctively.
Despite their ruined clothes and trembling limbs, they bowed as best they could.
Marrionette waved a hand lazily. "Enough of that."
Her eyes swept over them.
"To be honest," she said, "I was not expecting quite such a fun show. Especially not from fresh Body Forging brats."
Zareck felt his ears heat slightly, though he could not tell whether it was embarrassment or pride.
Her gaze shifted to Will.
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded once. "Little boy, you are good."
Will blinked.
"But your cultivation is too little," Marrionette continued calmly. "Get off the stage."
Will froze, confusion written plainly on his face. "Ah. Elder, I…"
She raised an eyebrow.
Will swallowed whatever he had been about to say, nodded quickly, and bowed again despite the way his legs shook. "Understood."
He backed away from the arena, joining the loose crowd of defeated teenagers gathered just beyond the raised floor.
Marrionette turned back to Zareck and Malichi.
Without warning, she lifted her hand.
A soft green and yellow glow bloomed from her palm, swirling together like mist caught in sunlight. It split smoothly into two streams and flowed toward them.
Zareck barely had time to react before it washed over him.
Warmth flooded his body.
Not the rough, burning sensation of forcing spiritual energy through strained muscles, but something gentle. Deep. The ache in his arms faded. The tightness in his chest loosened. His breath evened out. The trembling in his legs vanished. And his mangled, bruised hand returned to prior form as if it had never been damaged in the first place.
He gasped softly.
Malichi let out a startled sound beside him, eyes widening as his posture straightened fully.
In seconds, the fatigue was gone.
Zareck stared at Marrionette openly now, awe written across his face.
"This," she said casually, "is Healing Qi. A specialized application. Remember it well. Body Forging is crude. Effective, but crude."
Zareck nodded slowly, still processing what he had just felt.
She clasped her hands behind her back. "The battle was meant to have one winner."
Her gaze flicked between them.
"But," she continued, "I understand your relationship. So I will ask."
She tilted her head slightly. "Do you wish to continue?"
The silence stretched.
Zareck turned to Malichi.
Malichi met his gaze.
There was no hesitation in his eyes. No fatigue now. Only sharp focus and something bright beneath it.
Battle intent.
Zareck felt his heart pick up its pace.
He remembered flashes of Malichi's fight. The way his arms had moved like overlapping shadows. The way even Elijah, confident and skilled, had been forced back.
And he realized something else.
He wanted to feel that pressure too.
He had crushed weaker opponents. He had outpaced those who barely knew how to move. Even fighting two level twos together had been chaotic and draining, but not clean.
This would be clean.
This would be honest.
Marrionette watched them for a breath longer, then smiled.
It was a surprising smile.
"Good," she said simply.
She turned and walked off the arena, re-joining the elders as if she had just finished commenting on the weather.
The moment she left, Zareck felt it.
Eyes.
So many eyes.
The elders, watching intently now. Cultivation instructors, interest no longer hidden behind professionalism. The defeated teenagers, murmuring among themselves, whispers spreading fast.
Zareck could feel their attention like a physical thing.
He exhaled slowly.
Then he looked back at Malichi.
They said nothing.
They did not need to.
A single nod passed between them.
They stepped away from each other, boots scraping softly against the stone floor. The distance grew. Five steps. Then ten.
Zareck settled his stance.
His body felt light. Ready. Spiritual energy flowed smoothly towards him, responding without resistance. His hands flexed, fingers curling slightly as Tiger Claw Fingers stirred at the edge of his awareness.
Across from him, Malichi planted his feet.
His posture was solid, grounded, arms relaxed but coiled with power. Swift Root Mirage waited within him, restrained but eager.
The noise of the library seemed to fade.
Zareck's focus narrowed to the space between them.
This was not about status. Not about elders or spectators or pride.
This was about two paths intersecting.
Two foundations forged differently, standing face to face.
Zareck lowered his centre of gravity.
Malichi raised his guard.
For a single, quiet moment, the world held its breath.
Then both of them moved.