Jin sat in the dirt next to the cold steel wall. He rested the heavy iron falchion across his knees.
He ignored the whispers of the other students. He ignored the medical team carrying the unconscious blonde noble away. His own match was over. His focus shifted immediately to the next asset.
He looked at circle four.
Elin stood inside the white chalk boundary. She held her two dull iron daggers close to her chest. She stood completely still, her breathing slow and controlled.
Her opponent stood across from her. He was a massive boy. He was easily a foot taller than Elin and twice as wide. He did not wear a tailored silk shirt. He wore a heavy leather vest. His arms were thick like tree trunks. He held a massive, two-handed iron warhammer.
Jin analyzed the matchup. The visual data was obvious. The boy possessed a strength-type Gene Legacy. His bone density and muscle mass were heavily mutated. Elin possessed a speed-type Gene Legacy. Her mutation favored fast-twitch muscle fibers and rapid nervous system responses.
They were both Foundation Level 7. They were evenly matched in raw Aether capacity.
"Begin," the referee shouted.
The heavy boy roared. He gripped the iron warhammer with both hands and charged across the dirt ring. Every step he took left a deep, heavy crater in the dry ground. He raised the hammer high above his head and brought it down in a brutal, crushing strike.
Elin did not try to block it.
Blocking a heavy weapon with short daggers was a fatal mathematical error. The kinetic force would simply shatter her wrists.
She pushed Aether into her legs. Her speed legacy activated. She blurred slightly, sliding to the right.
The heavy iron hammer slammed into the dirt exactly where she had been standing a fraction of a second ago. A cloud of dust exploded into the air. The ground shook.
Elin stepped inside his guard. She lunged forward and thrust her dull right dagger directly into his ribcage.
Thud.
The dull iron hit the boy's side hard. It was a solid strike. But the boy did not flinch. His dense, mutated muscles absorbed the blunt impact easily. He grunted, ripped the hammer out of the dirt, and swung horizontally at her head.
Elin ducked low. The massive hammer whistled violently over her hair. She slashed her left dagger across his thigh, then immediately jumped backward to create distance.
The fight turned into a brutal, grinding loop.
Jin watched her footwork. It was not flashy. It was highly efficient.
The heavy boy possessed absolute kinetic superiority. If he landed a single clean hit, Elin would be knocked unconscious and her bones would break. But he was swinging an incredibly heavy piece of iron. Every swing burned a massive amount of his Aether and oxygen.
Elin knew she could not knock him out with dull daggers. She did not have the physical mass to cause a concussion through his thick skull.
So, she changed the win condition.
She stopped attacking. She only evaded. The boy swung. She dodged. He lunged. She side-stepped. She forced him to chase her in circles around the thirty-foot dirt ring.
Five minutes passed. The heavy boy's face turned bright red. Sweat poured down his thick neck. His breathing became loud and ragged. The warhammer was getting heavier with every missed swing. His Aether reserves were running dry.
Elin was also tired, but her speed legacy burned fuel much slower.
She saw his grip loosen slightly. She executed her strategy.
Elin retreated. She ran straight backward, letting the boy chase her. She did not stop until the heels of her leather boots touched the thick white chalk line marking the edge of the ring.
She stopped right on the boundary. She looked trapped.
The heavy boy saw the opening. He let out a loud, exhausted yell. He gripped the hammer tightly. He put every single ounce of his remaining strength and forward momentum into a massive, rushing overhead strike. He intended to crush her into the chalk line.
Elin waited until the heavy iron was exactly two feet from her face.
She dropped her daggers. She dropped her entire body weight, sliding underneath the swinging hammer.
As the boy's massive momentum carried him forward over her, Elin extended her right leg. She drove the hard heel of her boot directly into his left ankle.
It was a perfectly timed kinetic disruption.
The boy was already completely off balance from the heavy swing. When his ankle snapped inward from the kick, his legs crossed. He could not stop himself. His own massive weight betrayed him.
He stumbled wildly. He crashed face-first into the dirt, sliding heavily on his chest.
He stopped sliding. He lay on the ground, gasping for air.
He looked down. His hands were pressing against the dirt. But there was no white powder under his fingers. He was completely outside the chalk circle.
The referee blew a sharp metal whistle.
"Winner," the referee declared, pointing at Elin.
Elin stood up slowly. She picked up her two dull iron daggers from the dirt. Her hands were shaking from exhaustion, but her breathing was steady. She did not celebrate. She simply walked out of the ring and headed back to the wall.
She sat down in the dirt next to Jin.
"Efficient," Jin said flatly.
"He was too heavy," Elin replied, wiping sweat from her forehead. "I could not hurt him. I had to use the rules instead of the metal."
Jin nodded. The tournament rules stated a ring-out was a valid victory. A win was a win. The method did not matter. The ledger only recorded the final result.
The rest of the first ten matches finished quickly. The arena was a mess of broken pride and bruised bodies.
Four students were carried out on medical stretchers. One boy had his collarbone snapped by a blunt heavy axe. Another girl was knocked completely unconscious by a spinning staff strike. The medical team worked frantically, pouring glowing green medicine down throats to accelerate the healing.
The faculty members walked out with the canvas bags again. They poured fresh white chalk over the blood and sweat in the dirt, redrawing the perfect circles.
Instructor Thorne stepped forward.
"Matches eleven through twenty," Thorne shouted. His voice echoed off the steel walls. "Get to your rings."
Twenty new students stood up from the crowd.
Rian pushed himself off the dirt. He reached down and grabbed his heavy ash-wood practice spear. The flat steel tip rested heavily on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and started walking toward circle twelve.
Luna stood up beside him.
She did not look confident. She looked terrified. Her small hands gripped the wooden handle of her dull kusarigama tightly. The heavy iron chain rattled softly against her leg. She was Foundation Level 7 now. She had the power. But the primal fear of physical violence was hard to erase.
She looked down at the white paper chit in her hand. Number nineteen.
"Keep your distance," Jin said. He did not look at her. He kept his eyes on the rings. "Throw the weight. Warp the space. Do not let them step inside the chain."
Luna swallowed hard. She nodded.
She turned around and walked toward circle nineteen. The first round of the lottery was over. The second wave was about to begin.