Age 750, May 6, Late Afternoon, Papaya Island
Ten
The sun was barely over the horizon as we gathered near the tournament proving grounds. The energy in the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation.
Jean and Ren stood beside me. Jean patted me on the back, her eyes sparkling with encouragement.
“Good luck out there, Ten.” She said warmly. “You’ve got this.”
Ren grinned, leaning in with a conspiratorial air.
“Good luck, son.” He said, his tone turning mysteries. “Don’t be surprised if you see a familiar face in the roster.”
“Oh?” I couldn’t help but smile back at him, a knowing glint in my eyes. “Did the big guy enter, too? I wondered why I hadn’t seen him yet.”
A few paces away, Master Roshi was giving his own pep talk to Goku, Krillin, and Chichi. His voice carried over the chatter of the crowd, a mix of stern advice and genuine encouragement.
“Do your best, boys.” Roshi said, his tone a blend of seriousness and pride. He then turned to Chichi, his expression softening. “And don’t worry, Chichi. Your father will arrive in time for the main matches.”
Chichi’s face lit up with a radiant smile, her confidence seemingly bolstered by Roshi’s words. I caught her eye and gave her a reassuring nod, knowing how much it meant to her to have her father there.
This tournament was going to be something none of us would ever forget— for better or worse.
Chichi, Goku, Krillin, and I broke away from the main group, our steps light with anticipation. Just as we started to head towards the entrance, Bulma’s voice rang out behind us.
“Good luck, everyone!” She shouted, waving enthusiastically.
We waved back, grinning, and then turned our attention to each other, chatting idly as we approached the tournament official.
He was a stern-looking man with a clipboard, calling out names with practiced efficiency. When he reached ours, he glanced up and gave a curt nod, instructing an aide to lead us into the gymnasium.
As we stepped inside, I was struck by the stark simplicity of the place. The gymnasium was vast and fairly bare, with nothing but large rings set up for the fights. The space was divided into numerous arenas, each marked by white chalk lines on the polished wooden floor.
The place was chock full of fighters, their presence nearly overwhelming. Everywhere I looked, there were people stretching, practicing moves, or simply sizing up the competition.
The sheer number of bodies in the confined space created an oppressive heat, and the smell of sweat was overpowering. It was as if the very air was saturated with the scent of determination and nerves.
We found a spot near one of the rings and settled in, continuing our conversation. Goku and Chichi seemed focused and excited, but Krillin’s nervous energy was palpable. He kept glancing around, his face tight with worry.
“Quite the turnout.” I remarked, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead.
“Yeah, it’s gonna be fun!” Goku said, a grin plastered on his face.
Krillin chuckled nervously, fidgeting with his gi. “I just hope I don’t get knocked out in the first round. There are so many strong fighters here.”
I stepped closer to Krillin and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Krillin, you just need to believe in yourself. You’ve trained hard for this. Trust in your abilities.”
As I spoke, I surreptitiously activated [Insight], checking Krillin’s status. When his stats popped up, I damn near whistled.
Mini Monk
Krillin – Lv 64
Race – Human
Age – 14
HP: 55,000
Ki: 30,000
Rep: 9,500/10,000 Liked
Having learned under the venerable Muten Roshi, Krillin has set out to the Strongest Under the Heavens tournament in order to prove to himself that he does indeed have what it takes to play in the big leagues.
He is currently feeling little to no confidence at his chances in the tournament.
Battle Power: 247
The boy had become more than twice as strong in a very short time. It was impressive, to say the least.
Chichi nodded, backing me up. “Ten’s right. You’ve come a long way, Krillin. Just focus on what you’ve learned and give it your all.”
Goku nodded vigorously. “Yeah! And remember, we’re all in this together.”
Krillin took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Thanks, guys. I’ll do my best.”
Even with our encouragement, Krillin’s eyes kept darting around at the musclebound fighters who dwarfed us. Despite the words of reassurance, he didn’t seem so sure.
As we waited for our matches to be called, I took a moment to absorb the scene around us. The tension, the anticipation, the sheer willpower emanating from every corner of the room— it was all building towards something incredible.
A portly man with a thin mustache walked up to a podium and fiddled with the microphone.
There was a bit of feedback, causing Chichi to cringe while everyone winced. I imagined, with her Namekian DNA, any loud noises truly were grating. The feedback stopped quickly enough, and the portly man began to speak, his voice booming through the gymnasium.
“Welcome, everyone, to the World Martial Arts Tournament!” He announced, his enthusiasm palpable. “It’s great to see so many talented fighters gathered here today.”
He continued, explaining the rules to us. “This stage is all about weeding out those unworthy to be on the world stage. Behind closed doors, you will do battle in your designated blocks until there are sixteen contestants left to progress to the next stage. Normally, this stage of the tournament results in eight contestants, but due to the great number of applicants this year, we’ve had to raise the number of contestants.”
The man paused, letting the information sink in. Around us, fighters were murmuring, some with excitement, others with apprehension.
The sheer volume of participants this year was daunting, but it also meant the competition was going to be fiercer than ever.
“You will be assigned to your blocks shortly.” the man continued. “Fight with honor and give it your all. May the best fighters advance!”
With that, he stepped down from the podium, and the gymnasium buzzed with renewed energy. Fighters began to form groups, discussing strategies and assessing the competition. We stood together, absorbing the information.
“This is it.” I said, feeling a surge of determination. “Let’s show them what we’ve got.”
Goku grinned, bouncing on his toes. “I can’t wait! This is going to be awesome!”
Chichi gave a firm nod, her resolve clear. “We’ve trained hard for this. Let’s make it count.”
Krillin, though still nervous, managed a small smile. “Yeah, let’s do our best.”
As the first few fighters began being called up, someone loudly called for Krillin. He went white as a sheet as he turned to see two young men approaching him. Chichi noticed his reaction and asked. “Who are they?”
Krillin swallowed hard. “They’re my upperclassmen from the Orin Temple.”
The two men reached us and greeted Krillin, their smiles polite but their words laced with disdain.
“Well, if it isn’t little Krillin.” One of them said, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a bit too much force. “We heard you were competing in the Tenkaichi Budokai. Really, Krillin? You think you have a chance here?”
“I do.” He said, looking down.
The other one chuckled, shaking his head. “No talent and no chance. You should’ve stuck to the temple where you could at least pretend to be good.”
Their laughter echoed as they walked off, leaving Krillin looking dejected. I felt a surge of anger on his behalf, but Goku stepped in, his expression serious but reassuring.
“Don’t worry about those guys, Krillin.” Goku said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve trained just as hard as me.”
Krillin took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Thanks, Goku.”
Just then, the official called out. “Son Goku!”
Goku gave us a quick, determined smile.
“I’ll be back soon.” He said, then turned and headed towards the ring.
I watched him go, then turned back to Krillin. “You’ve got this, Krillin. Just believe in yourself. You’re stronger than you think.”
Chichi nodded in agreement. “Show them what you’re made of.”
Krillin managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, guys. I will.”
We turned our eyes to Goku’s match.
Goku’s opponent was a muscle-bound, wide wrestler with a huge mustache. He towered over Goku, casting a long shadow across the ring.
“Give it up, kid.” The wrestler growled, his voice a low rumble. “Or I’ll turn you into a pretzel.”
Goku’s eyes lit up with excitement, his smile broad.
“I love eating those!” He exclaimed.
Next to me, I heard Krillin mutter. “Goku loves eating anything.”
I had to stifle a laugh. The wrestler’s face twisted with irritation at Goku’s response.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, brat.” The man said, his voice dripping with menace. He lunged at Goku, his massive arms outstretched, intending to crush the boy like a grape. But before he could even touch him, Goku disappeared in a blur of motion.
Everyone around us gasped in surprise, their eyes wide as they searched for Goku. The wrestler spun around wildly, confusion etched on his face.
“Where did he go?” He bellowed, frustration mounting.
Goku reappeared behind him, a playful grin on his face. He gave the man a gentle poke, but to his surprise, it ended up sending the wrestler flying out of the ring. The man tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop in a heap.
“What the hell?”
“He just poked him and the guy flew!”
“Nah, must’ve been a fluke…”
The crowd of fighters around us looked shocked and surprised, their expressions a mix of disbelief and awe at the runt’s strength. Krillin stared at his own hands in the aftermath, muttering to himself. I smiled slightly, knowing what he was thinking.
Just then, Chichi’s name was called. She stepped forward, facing off against a wolf-man who snarled as he approached. The announcer barely had any time to declare the beginning of the fight before he came at her with wild abandon, each claw strike missing its mark by the merest of margins.
Krillin turned to me, looking impressed. “Woah. Chichi’s really good. It’s like she’s reading his mind.”
And so it was true, I smiled as I watched her move to deflect his strikes before he even committed to his own. She hopped over a kick to her shin, stepped back from the following lunch before twisting around a few thrusts and dancing around him.
“You could say that.”
Eventually, she seemed to grow bored of the fight. With a swift motion, she swept the wolf-man’s forearm to the side, moving into his guard.
Her fist buried into his solar plexus, doubling him over. He fell to his knees and then face planted, unconscious.
The official declared Chichi the winner as the wolf-man was carted away. Chichi returned to us, her face calm and composed, but I could see the satisfaction in her eyes.
“Nice work, Chichi.” I said, giving her a nod of approval.
She smiled at me, and I could tell that the fight had not even awakened her killer instinct. “Thanks. Soon it’ll be your turn.”
I took a deep breath, watching as Krillin stepped into the ring. The gymnasium buzzed with excitement, but I could see the uncertainty in my friend’s eyes. Goku and Chichi stood beside me, their own victories still fresh in their minds.
“Next up.” The portly announcer called out, his voice echoing through the room. “Krillin versus Jin from the Orin Temple!”
I winced inwardly. Of all the opponents Krillin could have faced, it had to be one of his former tormentors. Jin, a towering figure compared to Krillin, smirked as he took his place across from our friend.
“You’ve got this, Krillin!” Goku shouted, his enthusiasm unwavering.
I could see Krillin’s shoulders tense as he glanced back at us. Despite our words of encouragement, doubt still clouded his features. I knew how hard he’d worked, how far he’d come since leaving the temple, but old fears die hard.
“Come on, Krillin.” I muttered under my breath, willing him to find his confidence. “Show them what you’re made of.”
The announcer raised his hand, ready to begin the match. I leaned forward, my heart racing. This wasn’t just a preliminary bout— for Krillin, it was a chance to prove to himself that he’d grown beyond the bullied kid from the Orin Temple.
I watched intently as Jin towered over Krillin, a condescending smirk plastered across his face.
“Listen, runt.” Jin sneered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’ll make this easy on you. Just give up now, and you won’t have to embarrass yourself.”
Before anyone could say anything, Krillin’s voice rang out, clear and defiant.
“I’m not a coward.” He declared, his eyes narrowing as he glared up at his former tormentor. “And I’m not the same kid you used to push around!”
Jin’s face twisted in anger. “Have it your way, shrimp!”
He lashed out with a vicious right hook, aiming straight for Krillin’s head. But to everyone’s surprise— especially Jin’s— Krillin ducked under the punch with impressive speed.
Jin, now off-balance, followed up with a barrage of kicks. Left, right, then a sweeping low kick— but Krillin evaded them all. He weaved and bobbed, his movements fluid and precise. Beside me, Goku couldn’t help but grin; all those hours of training were paying off.
As Jin’s last kick sailed harmlessly over his head, Krillin launched himself into the air. His small frame coiled like a spring, then exploded outward in a perfect flying kick.
The impact was thunderous. Jin’s eyes widened in shock as Krillin’s foot connected squarely with his chest. The larger fighter flew backward, his body arcing through the air before slamming into the gymnasium wall with a resounding thud.
A hush fell over the other fighters, followed quickly by an eruption of cheers. Goku whooped loudly beside me, while Chichi clapped her hands in excitement. As for me, I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face.
“That’ll show him.”
Krillin stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving but his stance firm. At that moment, he wasn’t just our friend who’d won a match. He was a fully fledged martial artist who’d faced his past and emerged victorious.
As we congratulated the boy, My attention was taken when the announcer called out the next match. “Hercule versus Pamput!”
A familiar figure with an afro strode confidently towards the ring, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was still strange to hear him called by his moniker, but if that’s what he wanted, I would respect his wishes.
“So that’s your friend Mark?” Chichi asked, leaning in close to be heard over the crowd’s excited chatter. “The one you learned alongside in Central City?”
I nodded, my eyes still on the ring. “Yeah, though he goes by Hercule now. It’s a stage name he used in street fights to make money, but I guess he’s decided to adopt it as his own now.”
Across from Hercule stood Pamput, the famous actor. I remembered watching his impressive performance in the Central Games. Despite his celebrity status, Pamput was no mere showman— he possessed genuine fighting skill.
“This should be interesting.” I mused aloud. “Pamput’s actually a fairly strong fighter, and I imagine that he’s improved since the Central Games. I’m curious to see how Hercule will fare against him.”
As the two fighters sized each other up, I found myself analyzing their stances, trying to predict how the match might unfold.
The air in the gymnasium crackled with anticipation. Goku, ever the fighting enthusiast, had edged closer to the ring, his eyes wide with excitement. Krillin, still basking in the glow of his own victory, joined us to watch the match.
I leaned forward as well, my curiosity piqued.
As the announcer prepared to start the match, I silently rooted for my friend, hoping he’d show everyone the results of his hard work and determination.
As the announcer’s hand dropped, signaling the start of the match, Hercule and Pamput exploded into action. The ring became a blur of motion, their bodies moving at speeds that left the crowd gasping.
Pamput struck first, a lightning-fast jab aimed at Hercule’s face. Hercule slipped to the side, the punch grazing his cheek as he countered with a vicious uppercut. Pamput barely managed to lean back, the fist whistling past his chin.
They separated for a split second before crashing together again. Fists and feet flew in a dizzying display of raw power. Hercule landed a solid hook to Pamput’s ribs, the impact resonating through the gymnasium. Pamput grunted but retaliated immediately, his knee driving up towards Hercule’s solar plexus.
Hercule blocked the knee with his forearm, the bone-on-bone contact eliciting winces from the crowd. He used the momentum to spin, his elbow slicing through the air towards Pamput’s temple. The actor ducked under the strike, dropping low and sweeping Hercule’s legs.
For a moment, Hercule was airborne, but he turned the fall into a backward handspring, landing on his feet just as Pamput charged in. They met in a furious exchange of blows, their arms a blur as they blocked, struck, and countered in rapid succession.
A collective “ooh” rose from the spectators as Pamput’s roundhouse kick connected with Hercule’s shoulder, spinning him around. But Hercule used the rotation to his advantage, completing the turn and delivering a devastating back fist that caught Pamput square on the jaw.
The actor staggered back, shaking his head to clear it. Hercule pressed his advantage, unleashing a barrage of punches to Pamput’s midsection. Pamput’s arms came down to protect his core, leaving his head exposed. Hercule capitalized, his right hand arcing up in a picture-perfect uppercut that snapped Pamput’s head back.
But Pamput was far from finished. As Hercule’s fist extended upward, Pamput stepped in close, trapping Hercule’s arm and attempting to drive his forehead Hercule’s nose.
To everyone’s surprise, Hercule broke through the lock and made his move. Dodging Pamput’s headbutt, Hercule caught the older man in a headlock and, with a roar, drove him down into the marble floor.
They crashed to the floor with a resounding thud, Pamput taking the brunt of the impact. Before the actor could recover, Hercule was on him, swiftly maneuvering into a tight stranglehold.
“Give up.” Hercule said calmly, his voice barely audible over the stunned murmurs of the crowd.
Pamput’s face contorted with effort as he struggled against Hercule’s grip. His legs kicked uselessly, trying to find purchase on the smooth floor of the ring. But Hercule’s hold was unbreakable, his technique flawless.
Seconds ticked by, feeling like an eternity. Pamput’s struggles grew weaker, his face turning an alarming shade of red. Still, he refused to tap out.
Finally, Pamput’s arms fell limp at his sides, his eyes rolling back. The referee rushed in as Hercule let go, checking Pamput’s condition before raising Hercule’s hand in victory.
“The winner! Hercule!”
The gymnasium erupted in a mix of cheers and bewildered chatter. I could hear the other fighters around us muttering in disbelief, trying to process what they’d just witnessed.
But as I watched Hercule help a groggy Pamput to his feet, the realization dawned on the others. Hercule had been holding back the entire time, gauging his opponent’s abilities before decisively ending the fight.
I couldn’t help but smile. Hercule had come a long way from the glory-obsessed wannabe I’d first met. He’d learned not just strength, but strategy and restraint. As he walked off the mat, his eyes met mine for a brief moment. The look we shared confirmed my suspicions.
Hercule had just announced his presence to the martial arts world, and I had a feeling this was only the beginning.
I felt a surge of anticipation as the portly announcer called my name. It was finally my turn to step into the ring. I banished thoughts of everything else as I made my way forward, taking a moment to size up my opponent.
He was a young man, taller than me, with brown skin that spoke of hours spent under the sun. His face was long, adorned with small, beady eyes that seemed to hold a quiet intensity. What caught my attention most was the small red dot on his forehead— a mark of the desert people.
His attire was distinct: a pristine white turban sat atop his head, while his body was draped in a flowing robe of orange and maroon. The colors reminded me of a sunset, rich and warm against his skin.
As we faced each other in the ring, I could feel the eyes of the crowd upon us. Goku, Chichi, Krillin, and Hercule were surely watching intently from the sidelines. The gymnasium had grown quieter, the spectators eager to see what this match would bring.
I took a deep breath, centering myself. My opponent’s calm demeanor suggested he was no novice to martial arts. His stance, though relaxed, held a readiness that spoke of years of training.
The announcer looked between us, preparing to start the match. In these last moments before the fight began, I quickly assessed my strategy, remembering all I’d learned and experienced on my journey so far.
As the announcer’s voice rang out.
“Ten versus Nam… Begin!” I braced myself for the fight. But Nam didn’t move immediately. Instead, he seemed to be steeling himself, his body filled with determination and a hint of desperation.
Nam – Lv 43
Race – Human
Age – 25
HP: 40,000
Ki: 10,000
Rep: 0/10,000 Neutral
Faced with a water shortage crisis, Nam has taken it upon himself to provide his tribe with the water required for them to live in the harsh climes of the desert region. He has to win this tournament at any cost, no matter what it is.
He is currently saddened to have to fight a child, but he will do his duty to his home regardless.
Battle Power: 145
My heart sank at what I saw in his status sheet, but I had no time to dwell on it. Nam suddenly launched himself forward, his body becoming a whirlwind of strikes.
His first punch came straight for my face, a lightning-fast jab that I deflected with my forearm. He followed up instantly with a vicious knee aimed at my solar plexus. I twisted my body, letting it graze my side instead.
Nam’s attacks came relentlessly. A roundhouse kick whistled past my ear as I ducked. I weaved away from an elbow strike that would have knocked out most opponents. His fists became blurs, targeting my vital points with precision and power.
Each of Nam’s strikes carried the weight of his village’s hopes. I could feel the desperation in every attack, the fear and determination behind each movement. But despite the ferocity of his assault, I found myself able to read and counter each move, so attuned to his Ki I had made myself.
Palm strike coming.
I deflected a palm strike, sidestepped a spinning back kick, and slipped past a series of rapid punches. Nam’s eyes widened with each failed attack, disbelief and growing despair evident in his gaze.
The anguish in Nam’s expression tore at me. I couldn’t bear to prolong his suffering. In a swift movement, I stepped inside his guard. My hand shot out, catching Nam’s wrist mid-punch. Using his own momentum, I pivoted, pulling him off balance.
Before Nam could recover, I swept his legs out from under him. As he stumbled, I placed my palm firmly on his chest and pushed. Nam flew backward, his body arcing through the air before landing outside the ring with a thud.
The match was over in seconds.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but I felt no joy in my victory. As I looked at Nam’s defeated form, I knew I had to find a way to help him and his village. This fight might have ended, but Nam’s struggle was far from over.
I reached down to help Nam to his feet, feeling a mix of relief and concern as I saw the utter defeat in his eyes. As he turned to leave, shoulders slumped, I quickly spoke up.
“Wait, Nam.” I said, causing him to pause. “You haven’t failed to get water for your village.”
“How did you…” He said, shaking his head as he held his stomach in pain. He tried to keep his dignity as he gave me a defeated smile. “No matter. You have won fairly, and I will respect that. I must go and help my village in any way I can now.”
“That’s what I meant.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you need water, then just grab some at the well; you’ve got a capsule, don’t you?”
Nam nodded, though he looked unconvinced. “I’m sorry, but I cannot afford the water. That is why I need the prize money, young man; and I will not accept your charity.”
I shook my head as I glanced at the announcer, who had been listening intently. He also nodded in understanding, stepping forward.
“The boy, Ten, was it? He is right— the water in these parts is plentiful, and more importantly for you, free.” The worker confirmed with a kind voice. “I’d be happy to have one of my aides show you to a nearby well. You can take as much water as you need for your people.”
Nam’s eyes widened, a glimmer of hope replacing the despair that had clouded them moments before.
“Truly?” He asked, his voice trembling slightly.
The announcer nodded again, gesturing for an aide to come. Quickly, a person bid the man to follow him. As they walked away, I saw Nam’s shoulders shake, overcome with emotion.
A sense of warmth spread through my chest at the action.
But my moment of satisfaction was abruptly cut short. A voice sliced through the air, instantly recognizable and chilling me to my core. My body tensed, every muscle going rigid as I slowly turned towards its source.
The noise of the crowd seemed to fade away, my focus narrowing to that single, familiar voice. A voice I had hoped never to hear again. As I scanned the gymnasium, searching for its owner, my mind raced.
So he’s here, after all.
The good feeling from helping Nam evaporated, replaced by a cold dread that settled in the pit of my stomach. I knew, with grim certainty, that whatever came next would change the course of this tournament— and possibly much more.
I turned slowly, my body tense, to face the man I thought I’d never see again. There he stood, as imposing as ever— General Blue of the Red Ribbon Army.
Calamity
Blue – Lv 150
“Blue.” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the shock coursing through me.
He was just as I remembered him: tall, handsome, with striking blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. But something was different, something I couldn’t quite place at first.
Blue’s lips curled into a smirk.
“Were you expecting someone different, my dear Ten?” He asked, his voice dripping with false pleasantry.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died in my throat as I suddenly sensed it— a coiled power lurking just beneath his skin. It was suppressed, controlled, but unmistakably there. This wasn’t the same Blue I had faced before.
As I studied him more closely, I noticed something else. His eyes, while still predominantly blue, now shimmered with an eerie green undercurrent. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a chill down my spine.
So he truly had been infected with the serum, too…
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I hadn’t wanted to believe the experience I’d undergone at the Lookout, but the proof was right in front of me now. How had he survived our last encounter? What was he doing here? And most importantly, what was he capable of now?
The bustling gymnasium seemed to fade into the background as Blue and I locked eyes. The tournament, my friends, even my quest— all of it momentarily forgotten in the face of this dangerous reunion.
I knew I had to be careful. Whatever Blue’s intentions were, I was certain they didn’t bode well for me or anyone else in this tournament.
I stood my ground, trying to maintain a calm exterior despite the turmoil of emotions inside me. Blue’s words washed over me, each one a reminder of the danger he represented.
“Impressed?” Blue asked, his smile growing wider as he noticed my recognition of his changed state. “The scientists have outdone themselves, wouldn’t you agree? Completely revived and perfectly regrown— a medical miracle, they called it.”
I remained silent, processing the implications of his words. The Red Ribbon Army’s capabilities were far beyond what I had imagined.
Blue continued, his voice laced with contempt.
“And yet here you are, as weak as ever. Still helping every fool that crosses your path.” He shook his head, as if disappointed. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, Ten. And soon.”
A chill ran down my spine at the thinly veiled threat, but I refused to show any sign of intimidation.
“For now.” Blue said, his eyes gleaming with that unsettling green shimmer. “I’ll have to satisfy myself with your eventual humiliation in this tournament. In front of the whole world, no less.”
I clenched my fists, anger mixing with my apprehension. Blue’s presence here threatened not just me, but everyone at the tournament— my friends, the other fighters, the innocent spectators.
“You won’t succeed.” I said quietly, my voice steady despite my inner turmoil. “Whatever you’re planning, I’ll stop you.”
Blue’s laughter echoed through the gymnasium, drawing curious glances from nearby contestants.
“Oh, Ten.” He said, his voice dripping with mock pity. “Your misplaced confidence is almost endearing. Almost.”
As he turned to walk away, Blue called over his shoulder. “Enjoy your little victories while you can. The real fight is yet to come.”
I watched him disappear into the crowd, my mind racing. My mind screamed at me to follow him— to end him now. But as the tournament worker called for the next match, I realized that for now, I had to focus on what was in front of me.
We’ll see who wins the real fight, this time. I thought.
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