"He indeed is!" Nikolas nodded from the side, his eyes narrowing as he glared toward the distant tent of the Year Two team. "Jacob is playing dirty this ti... He thinks doing this will win them the team match by keeping us blind to their trump card!"
"I can’t believe what he just did!" Ricky descended the stairs, his face flushed with a rage that seed to radiate from his entire body. He had spent the last hour ntally preparing to showcase his overwhelming abilities; he wanted to devastate his opponent in front of the crowd and the scouts.
After all the psychological pumping up from John and the validation from Nikolas, he had ended up achieving a victory without throwing a single punch. To soone as ego-driven as Ricky, a forfeit felt more like an insult than a win.
"I’m sure in a fair fight, you’d have crushed him," John said casually, his voice smooth. "Just take it as a deserved rest. In the team battle, we’ll pay them back double for their cowardice. They’re running scared, Ricky. They know they can’t take you head-on."
Ricky nodded, though he remained silent, his jaw still tight with frustration. Cissel simply shoved her eyes away, looking bored by the drama, yet her sharp gaze never left the arena floor.
This ti, weirdly, John didn’t get any notification about Ricky’s Familiarity increasing. But as he stood there, he realised he didn’t truly care anymore. He had already fulfilled the requirent of that part of the quest. All that remained now was to secure the second part and maximise his rewards.
"Next match in a minute!" the comntator announced, his voice booming through the speakers.
Elena began to prepare herself, her hands slightly trembling as she checked her makeup in a mirror in her hand. John noticed the tension in her.
"Don’t overstress yourself," John said, turning to her with a reassuring look. "Just fight normally. Your opponent is soone on your level. Even if a year gap is present, your training has made you far stronger than them. You’re in our team, Elena, and that alone is enough to testify about your strength."
"Thanks," Elena’s face bead with a sudden, bright smile. Monts ago, her expression had been darkened by the anticlimactic end of Ricky’s match. John had feared she might act like Luke—letting the mounting pressure take over and failing the match before it even started.
In truth, John didn’t care deeply about the individual match point itself. He cared about the psychological warfare. Her victory would pile more pressure on the Year Two team, making them feel like they had no hope or prestige left except through a desperate win in the final team match. He wanted them backed into a corner.
"She is fighting well," Nikolas remarked on the early blows between Elena and her opponent. He had always been an admirer of Elena’s fighting style, and John suspected that if the teacher ever ca across a Miraculous Potion, he would likely give it to her without a second thought.
Nikolas’s assessnt was on the mark. Elena was fighting with a ferocious spirit. Her opponent was a girl like her, but a total opposite in appearance and deanour.
While Elena was polished and attentive to her looks, the other girl looked more like a darker version of Cissel—gloomy, serious, and clearly possessing zero care for her physical appearance. Even her hair was dishevelled, standing out in wild spikes as if she had just been electrified.
The match progressed much more slowly than the previous bouts, serving as a tactical grind between two normal students. It was a battle of attrition. After twenty gruelling minutes of exchanged strikes, Elena finally found an opening and secured the victory by knocking her opponent unconscious with a well-tid fast punch in the face.
"It’s a Year One Win!" the comntator shouted. A loud, thunderous applause erupted from the audience for the second ti today!
The first match had been exciting as it took everyone by surprise, as it was Year One’s victory, but this one—a close, grinding fight between two evenly matched combatants—had the audience on the edge of their seats.
"Great job!" John welcod her back, offering his congratulations. Elena was visibly exhausted, sporting a few fresh bruises on her face and arms, yet she was beaming with a wide smile that stretched from ear to ear.
John left her to enjoy the victory, but as he turned away, he found Nikolas giving him a long, aningful glance.
"What are you up to now?" the teacher asked, his eyes glinting. He knew his student well enough by now to know that that specific look on John’s face ant a sche was in motion.
"You’ll see," John replied with an evil smirk.
The comntator finally announced his turn for the fifth and final individual match. John slowly climbed the stairs, stepping onto the stage and seeing the vast arena for the first ti from that elevated perspective.
It was indeed a scene to behold. Thousands of eyes were focused on the stage, focused on him and his opponent. It was a level of attention he wasn’t used to in his past life, yet he felt strangely calm.
He waited for his opponent to take his position, but John didn’t even spare the boy a single glance. Instead, he turned toward the crowd, raised his hand high, and projected his voice so the entire stadium could hear:
"I can’t be a slow student and not learn from the shaless act of my seniors in Year Two. Besides, they look a bit petty with just one point in their record. Since they forfeited their match just to hide their abilities, I’ll also do the sa for mine... I forfeit!"
His words bood like thunder, vibrating through the arena and taking everyone by surprise. The entire audience fell under a heavy, stifling silence, everyone sharing the sa thought: this kid has balls!
As he delivered those arrogant words and the thinly veiled insult, John focused his gaze directly on the Year Two staging area below. He locked eyes specifically with the third student—the secret weapon who had tried to act smart by forfeiting earlier.
Seeing John’s defiant gaze, the student didn’t scowl; instead, he smiled in return. It was a chilling, silent acknowledgent, as if the real aces of each year were formally greeting each other before the real carnage began.
John didn’t linger on the stage a second longer. He slowly walked down the stairs in a deliberate, slow manner, every step projecting a confidence that bordered on arrogance. When he finally landed back in front of his team and his teacher, the silence was shattered.
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