The infirmary was quiet, broken only by the faint hum of medical equipment. Arvian and Aron lay on neighboring beds, the white ceiling stretching endlessly above them.

  Arvian still couldn’t shake the discomfort of his blindness. Turning his head slightly toward Aron, he spoke, his voice tinged with frustration.

  “So… has this ever happened to you before? Getting blinded by your own attack?”

  Aron paused for a moment before answering, sounding more thoughtful than amused.

  “No. This is a first for me. I’d say it’s a pretty strange situation.”

  With nothing else to do, Arvian found himself unusually chatty.

  “Hey, you’re the student council’s secretary, right? You must know the student president pretty well.” He hesitated, then asked what was really on his mind. “Who do you think will win? The student president… or Toma?”

  Aron let out a slow breath.

  “That’s a difficult question. The student president’s ability is incredibly powerful—but he’s also extremely hot-headed.” His tone darkened slightly. “I’ve known him for a long time. He was always arrogant, but not like this. Not to this extent.”

  That only made Arvian more curious.

  “So what changed? What made him so ruthless?”

  Aron didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his words were heavy.

  “He lost. And in that defeat, he realized he’s not special—just another student. Knowing there are people stronger and more talented than him became unbearable.”

  After a brief pause, he continued. “Last year, he was defeated in the finals by a first-year. That student was so exceptional he ended up joining one warrior Division. The president wanted to leave his name carved into the academy’s history… but in his own eyes, he failed.”

  Aron’s voice dropped lower.

  “If he loses today, everything collapses for him. He knows it. That’s why he’ll do anything to win.”

  Then, quietly, “That’s all I can say.”

  A smile slowly spread across Arvian’s face.

  “Just so you know, Toma is doing everything he can.” There was certainty in his voice. “I saw his eyes. That determination is terrifying.”

  He let out a soft laugh.

  “I’ve known him since we were kids. Believe me, he used to be weak. He didn’t even have an ability back then.”

  The smile widened, filled with pride. “But he had a dream. Willpower. Perseverance. He trained every single day without exception just to reach this point.”

  Arvian clenched his hand on the bedsheet.

  “He’ll never back down. He’s not ordinary. And he won’t be stopped.”

  ***

  Meanwhile, in the stands, Toma’s family was watching the match alongside Arlen.

  Emion sat with Nira on his lap, his eyes fixed on the arena. A proud smile spread across his face as the crowd roared.

  “What a great boy Toma has become… and look at that fan base,” he said warmly, then gently pointed forward. “Nira, look. That’s your brother Toma down there.”

  Nira immediately leaned forward, her small hands clenched with excitement.

  “Go, Brother Toma!”

  Beside them, Toma’s mother sat with her arms crossed, tension written clearly on her face.

  “I just hope he doesn’t mess things up,” she muttered, barely taking her eyes off the arena.

  Toma's family's conversation was broken up by the commentator, who started to introduce the match.

  “And if I’m seeing this correctly, we have several distinguished guests watching today’s match from the VIP section,” he announced. “Captain Matas Lysell of the Ice Division—who also attended the previous match—Lady Thalia, captain of the Water Division, Zarek of the Lightning Division, Elarion of the Wind Division, and Silren of the Royal Division. From here in the stands, we thank you for honoring us with your presence.”

  Even in the VIP section, the tension was unmistakable.

  Matas Lysell sat in silence, his gaze steady and unreadable as he followed the battle below. Beside him, Thalia appeared visibly tense, her fingers clasped tightly together—no doubt still affected by yesterday’s match involving her brother, Velk.

  The captain of the Royal Division, Silren, watched the fight while standing. He was a tall man, slightly over 190 centimeters, seemingly in his thirties. His dark green hair, streaked with lighter shades, framed a face that always wore a faint smile. His eyes, however, were barely visible, as if deliberately hidden behind lowered lids or long lashes.

  Standing not far from him was Captain Elarion, equally tall, with long gray hair and calm gray eyes, also focused on the arena.

  Noticing the two standing together, the Lightning Division’s captain wandered over.

  Zarek—twenty years old, 186 centimeters tall, yellow hair streaked with black, yellow-tinted eyes, and a body covered in tattoos—grinned as he joined them.

  “The atmosphere here is brutal,” he muttered lightly. “Captain Lysell is as icy as ever. But now even Thalia looks so tense that I don’t dare talk to her.” He chuckled. “Which is a shame, because I’d really like to ask her out right now. What do you think, Captain Silren?”

  Silren’s smile widened slightly.

  “Good grief—you’re lively today, Zarek. But it’s no wonder Miss Thalia is so nervous. Yesterday’s match between her cousin and her brother completely turned into a scandal. Moreover, a blazing scandal. His gaze returned to the arena. “And it seems that only that blue-haired boy down there can put out the flames.”

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  That sparked Zarek’s curiosity.

  “By the way,” he added, glancing between the two captains, “who do you think is going to win this match?”

  Elarion answered first, his voice calm and measured.

  “Hard to say—but my money is on the Vandemire boy.”

  Silren tilted his head slightly.

  “Hm. I disagree. I think the blue-haired one will take it. There’s something in his eyes—determination, sharp and dangerous.”

  Zarek’s eyes lit up.

  “That’s a great answer ! In that case, I’m rooting for the blue-haired guy too!”

  ***

  But inside the arena, the match had already begun.

  The bell had barely finished ringing when Toma charged forward without hesitation.

  A Blue Nova flared around his fist as he swung, but Velk reacted instantly. A high-pressure jet of water shot toward Toma, forcing him to twist aside.

  Blue light burst from Toma’s hands in response.

  He countered with a Blue Nova strike, then unleashed a rapid barrage of glowing blue orbs from both palms, firing as fast as his body would allow.

  Velk moved smoothly, weaving between the attacks. Some orbs were dodged, others were swallowed by walls and streams of water formed in an instant.

  That was all Toma needed.

  He slipped behind Velk in a blur of motion.

  A powerful spinning kick slammed into Velk’s back, knocking him forward. Before Velk could fully recover, Toma followed up—his left hook cracked against Velk’s side, then a right straight snapped his head sideways.

  Toma pivoted again, launching another spinning kick aimed straight at Velk’s head.

  But Velk recovered at the last moment.

  A violent surge of water exploded outward, blasting Toma clear across the arena and sending him skidding to the far end.

  Velk straightened and laughed loudly, spreading his arms as if performing for the crowd.

  “Nice try. But this isn’t a street fight,” his voice rang out confidently. “You won’t beat me like that.”

  Toma wiped the corner of his mouth, eyes burning as he pushed himself back up.

  “Oh, I know,” he shot back. “I’ve just wanted to smash your face in for a long time.”

  “That kind of thinking won’t bring you victory,” Velk snapped, already attacking again as another jet of water roared toward Toma.

  This time, Toma dodged.

  But the water followed.

  No matter where he moved, the stream twisted and chased him like a living thing. Even when Toma launched himself into the air, the water surged upward after him.

  Toma clenched his teeth.

  Blue Nova energy erupted from his core.

  A massive beam of blue light blasted forward, colliding head-on with Velk’s water stream.

  Even the commentator couldn’t stay silent.

  “So far, this match has been incredibly even,” his excited voice echoed through the arena. “But now we’re witnessing a fascinating clash—Toma’s Blue Nova beam versus Velk’s water stream! Which one will endure longer, and whose power will overwhelm the other?”

  Velk raised both hands.

  The water surged faster.

  Tighter.

  Sharper. More precise.

  Toma broke into a run, blue energy flickering around him as it absorbed incoming strikes—until one slipped through.

  Cold slammed into his shoulder from the side. His balance broke. He dropped to one knee, the stone beneath him slick and soaked.

  Velk didn’t hesitate.

  Water rose above him, towering, then crashed downward as if the arena itself wanted to drown Toma in a single breath.

  “This is dangerous!” the commentator shouted. “If Toma gets trapped now—!”

  The Blue Nova flared.

  Not outward.

  Inward.

  Then it exploded apart.

  A blue wave tore through the water, crushing it and forcing Velk backward—not to the ground, but enough to disrupt his stance.

  Toma pushed himself up, panting. His arms trembled, but his eyes were steady.

  Now he advanced.

  The Blue Nova changed.

  It wasn’t just force anymore.

  It was rhythm.

  Each step made it pulse. Each movement sharpened it. Velk raised walls of water to defend, but holding them grew harder with every exchange.

  Water shattered into blue light.

  Blue energy drowned in water.

  Neither yielded.

  Velk retreated—only a little, but deliberately.

  Toma stopped across from him.

  Both exhausted.

  Both ready.

  “Ladies and gentlemen…” the commentator slowed his voice. “This match is far from decided. But for the first time… Velk is being forced to adapt.”

  The Blue Nova glowed faintly, but it didn’t fade.

  The water moved more quietly, but it remained.

  The silence shattered.

  Velk moved first—not attacking, but spreading his hands.

  Water was drawn toward him from everywhere. From the ground. The air. The cracks in the stone. Thin strands pulled together like invisible threads.

  He didn’t rush.

  He had learned.

  Toma felt it immediately.

  The Blue Nova didn’t ignite.

  It waited.

  It shaped space.

  Velk stepped sideways, slowly, water curving with him in an arc—an invisible wall forming.

  Step forward, and Toma would collide with it.

  Dodge, and it would close in.

  “This is tactics now,” the commentator noted. “Velk isn’t overpowering—he’s enclosing the space.”

  Toma tensed his fingers. Blue light pulsed faintly.

  He stepped forward.

  Water slammed into his shin, hard enough to throw him off balance. It didn’t hurt—but it warned him.

  Velk reinforced it instantly.

  The water came from the side now.

  Toma retreated, then dove—but the wet stone betrayed him. His footing collapsed. Another cold strike hit his back.

  He dropped to his knees.

  “Toma is in trouble!” the commentator cried. “Velk has taken control!”

  Velk didn’t rush.

  He didn’t need to.

  The water rose again.

  Toma lifted his head. The wave forming wasn’t massive or dramatic.

  It was inevitable.

  It wouldn’t sweep him away.

  It would crush him.

  Hold him down.

  That was when the Blue Nova answered.

  It didn’t explode.

  It didn’t push.

  It condensed.

  Blue light clung to Toma like armor. When the water pressed down, it didn’t shatter the energy—

  —it was forced aside.

  Slowly.

  Relentlessly.

  The air vibrated as the two forces ground against each other.

  Velk frowned.

  This was new.

  Toma stood up—heavily.

  Every step hurt. Every movement strained him. But he didn’t stop.

  The blue light grew stronger with each advance.

  If I stop now, it’s over.

  One step.

  Then another.

  Velk retreated.

  This time, not on purpose.

  The water wavered.

  Its rhythm broke.

  Toma seized it instantly.

  The Blue Nova surged—not explosively, but in waves, driving forward.

  Velk crossed his arms, a wall of water rising—

  —but the blue energy pushed through.

  It didn’t break the wall.

  It overwhelmed it.

  Velk slid backward, boots carving lines into the wet stone.

  “That’s it!” the commentator burst out. “Toma adapted! This isn’t just an attack anymore—this is pressure!”

  Velk stopped, panting. The water still surrounded him, but it no longer obeyed with certainty.

  Toma was gasping as well. The Blue Nova pulsed weakly now—it couldn’t last forever.

  They stood facing each other again.

  Closer than ever.

  Velk slowly raised his hand.

  Toma clenched his fist.

  Neither backed down.

  “And now…” the commentator whispered, “…now we find out who can last longer.”

  The two forces moved at the same time.

  Velk’s water no longer surged the way it had before.

  It was broken. Fragmented. As if it, too, had grown tired.

  Toma felt it instantly.

  The Blue Nova didn’t grow stronger—

  —it grew clearer.

  He stepped closer.

  Velk attacked, but the timing was off. The strike came a fraction too late.

  That was all Toma needed.

  The blue energy didn’t explode outward. It drew inward, tightening, compressing—then released itself as a single, razor-sharp impulse.

  When it reached Velk’s wall of water, it didn’t shatter it.

  It slipped through.

  Like it had found a flaw.

  Velk staggered.

  He tried to pull the water back under control, but the rhythm was gone. His foot slid on the soaked stone, his balance collapsing as his body tilted sideways.

  Toma didn’t pause.

  One more step.

  One more strike.

  Velk slammed into the ground, the water around him spreading outward, thinning, losing cohesion. He tried to push himself up—

  —but his arm shook violently and failed him.

  His breathing broke apart.

  By now, Velk was completely unhinged.

  His face was bruised and swollen, his expression twisted as his hands clawed at his own hair.

  “No—no, no, no, no!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Damn it all! I’ve had enough of you!”

  Then something in him snapped.

  Grinding his teeth, Velk forced himself upright, drawing in what little control he had left.

  And he played his final card.

  “DELUGE!!!”

  The shout echoed like a command.

  Water exploded into the arena from every direction. In an instant, massive glass barriers rose along the edges to protect the stands—but inside, the battlefield transformed completely.

  A raging sea swallowed everything.

  Toma vanished beneath the surface.

  The commentator’s voice rose sharply over the chaos.

  “Velk Vandemire has unleashed Deluge! The arena has become a true ocean! But what will happen to Toma, who is now completely submerged beneath the water?!”