That night passed quietly.
I slept longer than I had in a while, it was the kind of sleep that came in without breaks, , felt like my body finally decided to shut everything down properly for once, or maybe it was Angel focing the sleep. There were no dreams that I could remember.
When I woke up, it took a second to remember where I was.
Then it came back.
The fight.
Ragna.
Mary.
Everything.
I sat up slowly, letting the stiffness work itself out of my shoulders. No lingering pain. No soreness that mattered.
"Your recovery process is complete," Angel said.
I rolled my neck once.
"It does actually feels like it."
"Your body has stabilized post-engagement," she continued. "Further growth requires continued exposure to combat environments."
Right.
More fights.
That part didn't need convincing.
I stepped outside just in time to see Mary leaving with her group, and there were more of them now, noticeably more than before, a loose cluster forming around a central figure I couldn't quite make out from where I stood. They always moved like a herd in the mornings; it did take me a while to understand the reasoning behind it. But for the new crowd, the reason was obvious.
New teacher.
That tracked.
I watched them for a second longer than I needed to.
She didn't look back this time.
I turned away first.
"I recommend we go back to watching fights," Angel said. "Returning to observation will help increase the amount of data on diffeent fight styles, so what happened yesterday does not occur again"
"This time, I actually agree with you," I muttered.
That was already the plan.
The pit was full again.
That was the first thing I noticed.
It was packed.
This kind of density only meant one thing, something people didn't want to miss.
"The otherworlders must be present," Angel noted.
"I can see that."
Interesting.
I moved through the entrance without much resistance, slipping past the usual cluster, finding a seat in the tiers with a clear line of sight to the arena. Same spot as before. Good angle.
Familiar.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my arms on my knees, letting my eyes settle on the center.
I couldn't see Ragna.
Didn't mean he wasn't here.
Probably was.
That thought passed quickly.
Didn't matter.
Not right now.
For the first time in a while—
I felt it.
Excitement and … anticipation.
Watching had helped more than I expected.
Angel learnt fast, which meant I did too.
That connection was clear now.
The first fight started.
Two regulars.
Nothing special.
Their movements were loose, unstructured, more force than control, and within seconds I had already lost interest. There wasn't anything new there. Nothing to learn,
Just as i was losing interest in watching the mock fighting,
A figure dropped into the arena.
Not from the entrance.
From the side.
From where the otherworlders stood.
The two fighters froze.
So did most of the pit.
The newcomer stood upright, calm, like he had just stepped into a space that already belonged to him. Similar armor to the others I had seen before, clean lines, intact, nothing patched or worn.
Young.
Like the rest of them.
He looked at the two men in front of him and spoke without raising his voice.
"You are rats of the lowest scum," he said. "If you dare to fight me, I will spare your lives."
The words landed.
The announcer recovered quickly, voice rising to fill the sudden shift.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the pit! It is a three-way fight!"
The crowd reaction was slow, having not fully recovered from the shock of the challenge and who was making it.
The two scrappers hesitated, exchanging a glance that lasted just a fraction too long.
The otherworlder moved.
I didn't see the start.
One moment he was standing.
The next—
He was inside their space.
Too fast.
My eyes tracked where he ended, not how he got there.
His hand moved once.
A clean horizontal motion.
And blood—
A spray.
The first fighter's head separated cleanly from his body, lifted slightly before dropping, the rest of him following a second later. No resistance. No struggle.
Just… gone.
The pit went silent.
The silence was deafening, and even as i watched, my body going rigid from the suddenness of the fighter's death.
"Angel… are you seeing this?" I thought.
"I am adjusting," she replied. "Processing speed insufficient for full tracking."
That…
That wasn't good.
"Level reading?" I asked.
"Twenty-five."
I stared.
Level twenty-five. That was the highest I had seen.
By far.
If I was at seven—
That gap wasn't just numbers; this person was like a god to me
The second fighter broke.
"I surrender—"
The word didn't finish.
Another blurred movement.
His head dropped before the rest of him understood what had happened.
Two bodies.
Two pools of blood.
Flowing toward each other across the sand.
No one moved. No one spoke.
The pit was quiet.
The otherworlder stood there, expression unchanged, like none of it had required effort.
The smell hit next, the tangy smell of blood on sand.
I felt something shift in my chest.
If that had been me—
I wouldn't have seen it coming.
The thought settled.
Then—
A voice cut through the silence
"Enough posturing!"
Another figure moved.
From the stands.
From the group of otherworlders.
He jumped.
Across.
Several meters through open air before landing in the arena, feet first, the impact sending a small burst of dust outward.
That wasn't normal.
Not even close.
"Let's have our fight," he continued, rolling his shoulders once. "Show them how real people fight."
The first one turned.
Slowly.
Measured.
The two of them faced each other now.
Level twenty-five.
Both.
I didn't need Angel to confirm it, I could feel the difference already.
Something in the way they stood.
Something in the space between them.
The crowd stayed silent.
No one wanted to miss this.
I leaned forward slightly.
Didn't realize I had.
Angel spoke.
"Entering high-speed analysis mode."
That felt different.
This—
This was something else.
Not like the fights before.
Not like mine.
Not even close.
The gap was real.
And I was looking straight at it.