The hallway outside the arena vibrated with noise—cheering, arcane echoes, the crackle of elemental displays from earlier rounds. Emma adjusted the cuff of her new uniform, steadying her breath as she stepped toward the lift platform.
Behind her, a familiar voice slipped into the noise like a blade parting silk.
Hiruzen:
“Hey… did I miss anything?”
Emma froze. Slowly, she turned—then sprinted straight at him.
Emma:
“Hiruzen—!”
She slammed into his chest with a hug so aggressive it threw him a step back. And then—
SLAP!
Her palm cracked across his cheek.
Hiruzen:
“—Ow! What was that for!?”
Emma (voice quivering):
“For making me think you died again, you idiot! After everything we went through in the sim—after everything that happened last time—you really went and got yourself put in the Med Bay after your first round!?”
Hiruzen didn’t look away. He didn’t try to deflect it with humor. He just took it.
Hiruzen:
“I know. And you’re right. I pushed way too hard. But I had to win, even if—”
Emma:
“—If it costs you your life. I know what you were going to say.”
He stiffened.
Emma (lower, softer):
“Something’s been eating at you. I can see it. Especially after your fight with Adam—and especially after what happened inside the training sim. But we don’t have time for this now. When Midterms are over… you’re telling us everything.”
Hiruzen swallowed, then nodded once.
Hiruzen:
“Yeah. Okay. I will. Just go win your match already.”
Emma exhaled sharply and gave him a final shove.
Emma:
“Watch closely. I’ve learned a few tricks I’ve been dying to try out.”
Jonathan raised a lazy hand.
Jonathan:
“Go get him.”
The arena lit beneath her feet as she walked out. Her new attire gleamed under the stadium lights: a sharp, white dress that moved like liquid silk, long sleeves stitched with faint photonic veins, a high collar carrying the emblem of the owl—Athena’s insight, Annabeth’s precision.
Across the field stood Terrance: tall, broad-shouldered, muscles carved like a volcanic cliff face. His varsity jacket burned red with the school crest—a roaring lion.
Terrance rolled his shoulders, magma-steam hissing from the cracks forming along his arms.
Terrance:
“So you’re my opponent? Nice. I wanted someone fast.”
Emma smirked.
Emma:
“Fast won’t save you.”
RefBot descended, holographic eyes blinking.
RefBot:
“Mr. Sagewell, your family must vacate the arena. The seating transition is now commencing.”
The family’s spherical transport shifted, unfolding like a blooming metal flower into three royal thrones. They hovered high above, overlooking the arena like gods observing mortals.
Franklin Sagewell leaned forward, eyes sharp.
RefBot:
“Competitors ready?”
Terrance:
“Born ready.”
Emma:
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Always.”
RefBot:
“Begin Round Seven of Midterms!”
Emma vanished.
A white-gold streak blitzed across the arena—her signature Lightspeed Kick—but instead of striking Terrance, her foot plunged through him as if he were smoke.
No—lava.
The moment she passed through, the ground sizzled; the patch where his body had been turned liquid and glowed orange-hot.
Emma skid to a halt, eyes narrowing.
Terrance:
“Nice opener, but you’ll need better instincts than that.”
He threw a punch.
It wasn’t a punch.
His fist ballooned into a colossal molten gauntlet and launched forward at hypersonic speed, the air popping like thunder.
Emma tilted her head.
Emma:
“Too slow.”
She flickered aside, a pulse of light erupting behind her. Her finger extended—photons condensed to a needle-tip.
Emma:
“UV Shot.”
The beam fired instantly—no flash, no charge-up, just pure ultraviolet death—and perforated Terrance’s shoulder. A small, clean hole burned through molten flesh.
He clutched it, bewildered.
Terrance:
“What!? How!?”
Emma:
“I ionized the air around your lava. Destabilized the cohesion. Your turn.”
Terrance’s expression darkened.
Terrance:
“Talking big after a tiny wound, huh? Let’s turn up the heat.”
He slammed his palms together.
Terrance:
“MAGMA SURGE!”
Veins of molten rock erupted outward like living serpents. As they cooled mid-flight, they formed jagged obsidian spikes that rained across the battlefield.
Emma danced through them, bending and pivoting like starlight given form.
She touched two fingers together.
Emma:
“Azure Bind.”
Bands of hard-light—blue, crystalline, beautiful—wrapped around Terrance.
But molten tendrils ignited from his back, melting the restraints instantly.
Terrance:
“You can’t cage a volcano.”
He punched downward.
The ground detonated. Lava geysers burst upward, flooding the arena into a boiling wasteland.
Emma launched upward, generating a platform of pure light beneath her feet.
Emma:
“Okay… this is getting messy.”
Terrance laughed up at her.
Terrance:
“What’s wrong? Running away already?”
Emma:
“No. I’m deciding how flashy I want your defeat to be.”
His face twitched.
Terrance:
“…What?”
More lava whips shot toward her. Emma blurred, leaving afterimages woven from indigo light.
Emma:
“Spectral Mirage.”
Dozens of illusions swarmed the tendrils, confusing them while she gathered red-light heat in her palms.
Emma:
“Crimson Lance!”
The beam speared through the battlefield. The heat alone evaporated patches of lava. Terrance took it full-force, skidding backward.
He hissed through his teeth.
Terrance:
“Tch… gonna have to use that, huh?”
He thrust his arms out; the lava hardened suddenly into obsidian shards.
Terrance:
“Obsidian Shards!”
They launched in a storm.
Emma didn’t flinch.
Golden light wrapped around her like wings.
Emma:
“Radiant Shield.”
The barrier appeared—smooth, spherical, shimmering. Every shard that hit it ricocheted in unpredictable angles, turning Terrance’s attack back on him.
Panic flashed across his eyes as he dodged frantically.
Emma:
“You done stalling?”
Terrance smirked, chest rising.
Terrance:
“It’s ready.”
He leapt back, slamming his hands together. The arena quaked. Fissures ripped across the obsidian as molten cores surged beneath.
Emma:
“Oh, here we go.”
He thrust his hands up.
Terrance:
“CATACLYSM CORE!!!”
The ground beneath Emma burst. A volcanic explosion swallowed her—lava, firestorms, pyroclastic clouds so hot they warped the air.
Terrance exhaled triumphantly.
Terrance:
“And that’s that. Match—”
Then the light exploded.
A pillar of white burned away every ember, every drop, every plume of ash. The arena was purified in a heartbeat.
Emma floated at the center.
Untouched.
Her body radiated divine brilliance—white crowned with prismatic undertones.
Emma:
“Radiant Apex. I learned it during my training. Want to see what else I figured out?”
Terrance’s pupils shrank.
He tried to reactivate Cataclysm Core—
But she was already behind him.
CRASH—!
A point-blank Crimson Lance hammered into his back, knocking him to his knees. Before he could move, Azure Bind wrapped around him again—this time reinforced, glowing with violet undertones.
Emma hovered above him, light gathering so intensely it hummed.
Emma:
“I did say I’d embarrass you.”
Her entire body shifted to violet—a wavelength sharper, deadlier, invisible.
Emma:
“Ultraviolet Edge!”
The attack detonated as an unseen blade of UV radiation. The resulting violet explosion rocked the stadium. When the dust settled, Terrance lay scorched, a deep cut carved across his chest.
Emma knelt, clutching her burnt arm with a hiss of pain.
RefBot:
“Winner of Round Seven—EMMA LUCERO!”
Emma stepped off the arena, still clutching her arm. Hiruzen and Jonathan rushed toward her.
Far above, the Sagewell family exchanged interested looks.
Sera Sagewell:
“My word… she’s impressive. I see why you spoke highly of her.”
Logan Sagewell:
“She’s far stronger than before. That training sim changed both of them.”
Franklin steepled his fingers.
Franklin:
“And you said Hiruzen was in that simulation as well?”
Logan:
“Yes. But he already had his round.”
Franklin’s eyes sharpened, something calculating stirring in them.
Franklin:
“No. The boy will fight again.”
He lifted a hand.
Franklin:
“Frederick. Approach.”
Dean Frederick hurried over, bowing low.
Dean Frederick:
“Yes, Franklin?”
Franklin:
“I don’t care what the rules say. Hiruzen Yuki will participate in the next round. Am I understood?”
Frederick froze.
Dean Frederick:
“But sir, the regulations clearly—”
Franklin didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
Franklin:
“Am. I. Understood?”
A visible shudder ran through the Dean.
Dean Frederick:
“Yes.”
Franklin narrowed his eyes.
Franklin:
“Yes what?”
A beat of suffocating silence.
Dean Frederick:
“…Yes, sir.”
End Chapter
