The arena lights dimmed, the echo of the previous match still lingering in the air. When the lights flared back to full intensity, Dean Frederick stood at the center platform once more.

  Something was off.

  His usual authoritative posture was gone. His shoulders were rigid, hands clenched behind his back as though holding himself together by sheer will.

  Dean Frederick: Attention, students. Due to unforeseen circumstances, the participants of the next match have been… revised.

  A low wave of murmurs rolled through the stands.

  Dean Frederick: The new contenders for the eighth round of the Midterms are Hiruzen Yuki and James Vortan. Please proceed to the arena immediately.

  Hiruzen shot to his feet, pain lancing through his ribs.

  Hiruzen: What?! My last round barely ended—and I just got out of the med bay! I’m not even close to full strength.

  Emma’s gaze drifted upward toward the hovering thrones.

  Emma: This isn’t a coincidence. Ever since Logan’s family showed up, the entire arena feels wrong.

  Jonathan: Yeah. The guys we fought in Shinjuku? They worked for them. If they’re involved, this is intentional.

  Hiruzen exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

  Hiruzen:So that’s how they want to play it, he muttered. We can’t confront them here—but we also can’t let them walk away with so many unanswered questions.

  Dean Frederick’s voice cut through the conversation, sharper now.

  Dean Frederick: Mr. Yuki. Please make your way to the arena.

  Hiruzen straightened, ignoring the protest of his body.

  Hiruzen: We’ll finish this later. For now—sit back and watch me get another win.

  The arena floor hummed beneath Hiruzen’s boots as he stepped onto the battlefield.

  Across from him stood James Vortan.

  He wore a fitted red windbreaker over an athletic shirt etched with faint spiral patterns that seemed to shift when viewed directly. His stance was loose, confident—almost relaxed.

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  RefBot descended between them.

  RefBot: Combatants, confirm readiness.

  James: Ready.

  Hiruzen: Yeah.

  RefBot: Then the eighth round of the Midterms… BEGIN!

  Hiruzen moved instantly.

  He took a single step forward and slammed his foot down. A massive wave of jagged ice erupted from the ground, freezing the air itself as it surged toward James.

  James didn’t move.

  James: Radial Burst.

  The moment the ice neared him, it shattered—pulverized from the inside out by an invisible outward force. Frost scattered harmlessly across the arena floor.

  Hiruzen narrowed his eyes.

  Hiruzen: What the hell was that?

  James smirked as a faint, clear glow began to spiral around his body.

  James: My ability is called Centrifugal Core. I generate and weaponize rotational reference frames around myself. Real centrifugal force—scaling with angular velocity.

  The air warped as the rotation intensified.

  James: That burst was an instant acceleration of a rotating field, releasing outward force.

  Hiruzen: Great. Another physics nightmare.

  James: After this, you won’t have to think about it anymore.

  James raised both hands. The air between them compressed, spiraling inward.

  James: Gyro Lance!

  A hyper-pressurized jet screamed toward Hiruzen.

  Hiruzen thrust his palm forward.

  A towering ice wall erupted—but the lance tore straight through it, obliterating nearly half before dispersing.

  Hiruzen flash-stepped through the icy mist, appearing behind James and slamming an ice-coated fist into his back.

  James skidded forward, blood streaking from his mouth as he recovered.

  Hiruzen pressed the attack—rapid strikes to the jaw, ribs, and gut. With a sharp gesture, he froze James solid and leapt back.

  Hiruzen: Let’s see you spin your way out of that.

  The ground shook.

  The ice exploded outward. Shards lifted into orbit around James as he landed on one knee.

  James: Orbital Shrapnel!

  The shards fired like bullets.

  Hiruzen blurred between them—but a sudden, searing pain tore through his shoulder.

  Hiruzen: Damn it—!

  A shard pierced clean through. Blood poured freely.

  James straightened.

  James: Starting to slow down? Guess the med bay didn’t fix everything.

  Hiruzen clenched his teeth and slammed his hand over the wound. Ice surged instantly, sealing flesh and numbing pain.

  Hiruzen: Yeah. So I’ll finish this fast.

  Hiruzen raised both arms.

  Dozens of ice spears formed overhead.

  Hiruzen: Cryo-Spear Cascade!

  The spears rained down in staggered waves, forcing James to defend as orbital shards collided violently with the barrage.

  Hiruzen surged forward.

  A translucent blade formed along his arm. He slashed once, twice, three times—each cut leaving frostbitten wounds. He flipped back, ice snapping together into a segmented whip that cracked across James’ chest.

  Hiruzen jumps up into the air and encases himself in dense ice, before launching himself like a missile.

  Hiruzen: Subzero Comet!

  James tried to evade—but couldn’t.

  The impact sent him crashing into the arena wall. Stone fractured. Blood splattered.

  James slid down, coughing violently.

  James: Not… yet. I still have one more.

  He slammed his hands together.

  James: Event Horizon Spiral!

  A massive rotating field erupted, space warping as everything nearby was dragged inward at terrifying speed.

  Hiruzen dug his heels in, ice cracking beneath the pull.

  Hiruzen: Figures… then I’ll counter it properly.

  He raised one trembling hand.

  Boreas’ voice echoed in his memory.

  Temperature isn’t power. It’s control.

  A tiny sphere formed—glowing blue-white. The temperature plummeted instantly.

  Hiruzen: Cryo Singularity Lock.

  James stared.

  James: That tiny thing? What’s it supposed to do?

  Hiruzen: You’ll see.

  The sphere was pulled into the spiral.

  Air froze solid. Pressure collapsed. Rotation failed.

  The field shrank violently—then imploded with a thunderous crack.

  Silence.

  James dropped to one knee, staring in disbelief.

  James: How…?

  Hiruzen: I removed airflow and pressure gradients. Without those conditions—no more rotation.

  James laughed weakly.

  James: Guess that’s checkmate.

  RefBot descended.

  RefBot: Match concluded. Winner of the eighth round—HIRUZEN YUKI.

  Medics rushed in. Hiruzen helped James to his feet.

  Hiruzen: Good fight.

  James: Damn right it was.

  Above them, Franklin Sagewell watched with interest.

  Franklin: Fascinating. Just fascinating, even while injured, he adapts.

  He turned slightly.

  Franklin: Logan. Bring the boy to me. I wish to have a word with him.

  Logan: Yes, Father.

  As his son goes to get Hiruzen he just can't help but have a sinister smile plastered across his face.

  End Chapter