The arena lights dimmed just as the sixth round concluded, the air still vibrating from the aftershocks of Owen’s breakdown. A medical unit rushed across the arena floor, wheeling the trembling student toward the psychiatric wing. The whispering crowd barely had time to settle before Dean Frederick stepped forward, tapping his microphone.

  His voice was steady, but the tension in the air made it echo strangely.

  Dean Frederick: “Students… before we move on, there is something unexpected I must announce. I’ve just received word—rather abruptly—that this year’s Midterms will now be sponsored by A&M.”

  His words drifted across the arena like a cold draft. Confused murmurs. Glances exchanged. A&M? Here?

  Dean Frederick: “As for why, I assure you… I’m just as in the dark as you are. Their official reasoning is that you, this year’s class, have attracted their attention—your growth, your potential. And so, without further delay… let’s welcome the founders of A&M. Franklin and Sera Sagewell.”

  A deep mechanical rumble shot through the stadium.

  The roof began to split open.

  Students shielded their faces as a blinding shaft of sunlight speared down from the sky. Then a shadow swallowed the light—an enormous crystalline sphere descended from the clouds, its surface shimmering with refracted rainbow light. A long hiss escaped the sphere as steam peeled off its surface.

  The sphere landed with a graceful boom that shook the floor.

  A seam cracked open. Light spilled out.

  Then came the Sagewells.

  Franklin stepped out first—a tall, sharply handsome man in a charcoal gray suit and a razor-red tie. The suit fit him perfectly, but everyone’s eyes were drawn to the thing that didn’t fit the picture at all: his left arm. Its skin was bone-white and marbled with glowing yellow veins that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  Beside him stood Sera—taller, poised, her long white hair cascading like silk behind her. Her golden eyes shone with unsettling clarity, far too bright for a normal human. Her elegant white dress flowed as if gravity barely touched it. Like her husband, her right arm was the same unnatural white with those same luminous veins.

  But the real shock?

  It walked between them.

  Logan.

  Gone was the meek boy in a lab coat and glasses. He was dressed in a pristine white suit lined with gold accents, his usually unruly hair neatly swept back. The absence of his glasses revealed mismatched eyes—one a calm, icy blue and the other a burning gold that mirrored his mother’s.

  The crowd froze.

  Students leaned forward, breath held. Even the teachers stiffened.

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  The Sagewell family stepped fully into the arena as RefBot rearranged the platform for their announcement.

  Franklin spread his arms, voice booming with false warmth.

  Franklin: “Greetings, brilliant minds of Chikara Academy. It is a true pleasure to stand before you. As your dean has said, my family will be sponsoring your Midterms this year. Consider this a gesture of our faith in you.”

  His smile was flawless.

  His eyes were not.

  Sera’s voice followed, soft yet resounding across the arena.

  Sera: “Indeed. And we mean full support. Our son Logan has spoken endlessly about the incredible individuals he’s encountered here. The friendships he cherishes… the students he admires.”

  She gently placed her hand on Logan’s shoulder.

  “Why don’t you tell them, sweetheart?”

  Logan stiffened. The confident posture he walked in with cracked like thin ice.

  Logan: “I… uh… yes, as Mother said, the students here—”

  Sera: “Why don’t you give us a few names, darling? Tell them who you believe has the highest potential.”

  A soft chuckle from some of the audience.

  A hard silence from Logan.

  Logan: “Mom… that wasn’t part of the—”

  A single blur of motion.

  Franklin’s hand clamped around Logan’s arm.

  Hard.

  The microphones didn’t catch a sound, but the students near the front heard it: a wet squeeze. Logan’s expression twisted. A thin line of blood trickled from beneath Franklin’s grip and dripped onto the pristine white of Logan’s sleeve.

  Franklin didn’t look at his son.

  He only smiled.

  Franklin (softly, but amplified): “Do as your mother asked.”

  Logan swallowed.

  Shoulders trembling.

  Eyes glassy.

  Logan: “…Yes. Father.”

  He exhaled shakily.

  “In my honest opinion… the students with the most potential are… Emma Lucero… Jonathan Motarell… Aaron Nanazawa… Caitlyn Sanguis… Kai Almenara… Mai Dolan…”

  He hesitated.

  “And… Hiruzen Yuki.”

  A ripple of murmurs surged through the audience.

  Some shocked.

  Some jealous.

  Some terrified.

  Jonathan leaned toward Emma.

  Jonathan: “Hey… maybe Logan isn’t so bad after all. The guy clearly recognizes greatness when he sees it.”

  Emma didn’t smile.

  She folded her arms tightly.

  Emma: “Something’s wrong. Don’t you remember Shinjuku? Taser. Aqua. Rika.”

  Jonathan blinked.

  Then frowned.

  Jonathan: “Yeah… those thieves we caught. But then they slipped away.”

  Emma: “Exactly. And the tiny bit of intel we got? They were hired by A&M.”

  She glanced at Logan—pale, sweating, silent.

  “And now they show up? This isn’t charity.”

  Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck.

  Jonathan: “So you’re saying this whole sponsorship thing is… what, a setup?”

  Emma: “I’m saying they didn’t come here to help us. They came because they want something.”

  Franklin clapped loudly—once. The sound cracked like a gunshot and silenced the arena.

  Franklin: “Well now! Enough chit-chat, my young scholars. Let us return to the excitement of the Midterms.” He turned to the dean.

  “Mr. Frederick, who will grace the arena next?”

  Dean Frederick straightened his posture—nervous, but determined.

  Dean Frederick: “The competitors for Round Seven will be Emma Lucero… and Terrance Ignacio. Please report to the arena floor.”

  Emma rolled her shoulders, taking a deep breath.

  Emma: “Looks like it’s my turn.”

  Jonathan grabbed her arm.

  Jonathan: “Hey—listen. The nurse just texted me. Hiruzen’s done with recovery. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  A small smile tugged at Emma’s lips.

  Emma: “Good. Then make sure he’s watching.”

  Her eyes sharpened.

  “Because I’m about to show all of them—A&M included—what my training has really done.”

  She stepped toward the center of the arena as the crowd roared to life.

  High above them, the crystalline sphere glowed faintly.

  And from its shadowed reflection, Logan watched her walk away…

  Blood still dripping from his sleeve.

  End Chapter