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After what had happened with Fiona in the waiting room, Aldrich stepped onto the stage feeling invigorated, his senses sharpened, and his mind locked in place. He was ready.

Or at least, he thought he was.

The mont he entered the arena, he was t with thunderous cheers. Appreciated, only it wasn't ant for him.

The crowd erupted in a singular chant, a wave of excitent echoing across the stands.

"Kyle! Kyle! Kyle!"

His own na? Nowhere to be heard.

Aldrich exhaled through his nose.

"Co on, Al… You should be used to this by now," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to shake it off.

He had stood in arenas like this before. He had competed in enough tournants to recognize the swell of a crowd when they favoured one side over the other. But it had been a long ti since he was on the receiving end of that neglect, where all the cheers, all the anticipation, all the admiration were funnelled toward soone else.

This wasn't the kind of battlefield he was used to.

However, none of that mattered. He had to let it not matter so he could stay in the ga still.

He clenched his fists, pushing out the noise, forcing his focus inward.

"Filter out the distractions. Keep your mind where it needs to be."

He inhaled deeply.

"Think! What do I have to do—

A jolt ran down his spine.

His instincts scread at him, a primal warning surging through his veins. Before he could even register why, his body reacted on its own.

Aldrich launched himself backwards, feet barely skimming the ground as he took two swift, light steps away from his previous position.

And then—

A hand materialized from thin air, fingers outstretched, palm wide open, aiming straight for his throat.

Aldrich's breath hitched.

Had he hesitated for even a fraction of a second, those fingers would have wrapped around his neck, squeezing the air from his lungs. But he had moved, just in ti.

The hand hung there for a mont, grasping at empty space. Then, like a spectre forming out of nothingness, the rest of Kyle Dandada's body followed. First, his arm beca whole. Then his torso. His legs. His face. It was as if he had been sculpted from the very air itself, shifting from the realm of the unseen into stark, undeniable reality.

Aldrich's lips tightened.

"So, you're skipping the warm-up?"

That was how easily he had fallen before. That was how quickly Kyle had torn through him the last ti. But now?

This ti, Kyle wasn't facing the sa Aldrich Aldaman.

And that much had just beco obvious even to Kyle himself.

For the first ti, a subtle shift crossed Kyle's expression. It wasn't shock, nor was it frustration. No, this was sothing different.

Satisfaction.

Aldrich hadn't failed to et his expectations. As an S-rank student of Eldora Institute, this was the bare minimum.

But Aldrich wasn't about to let a simple evasion get to his head.

He steadied his breathing, suppressing the brief surge of adrenaline.

"This is nothing special. Just my instincts at work, sothing I should've been capable of from the very beginning."

No ti to get complacent.

Kyle's Art was unmistakable, it was Spatial Art. The ability to slip between space itself, appearing and disappearing at will. That much was clear.

What made Kyle even more dangerous was his ability to activate his Art seamlessly, without inscriptions, without seals, without warning.

He simply did it.

There was no casting ti. No telltale glow of mana. No indication of when or where he would strike next.

That made him nearly impossible to predict.

"Unless I attack first!"

Spatial Art users were always tricky opponents. Their strength lay in movent, in deception, in evasion. But there was one glaring weakness to their abilities.

It wasn't an attack-based Art.

Not in its rawest form.

Unlike offensive or defensive Arts, Spatial Art relied on mobility, not power. At best, it allowed for quick repositioning. At worst, it was used for retreat. It wasn't ant for brute force.

And if Aldrich could disrupt that mobility

Then this battle was his to win.

His fingers grazed the quiver at his back, drawing a single arrow.

He had to be mindful.

This wasn't an endless fight. His supply was limited. His quiver could only hold so many arrows, and this match could last minutes, maybe even hours if Kyle dragged it out.

"One arrow per sequence."

He would use each shot not just to attack, but to gather information. To read Kyle's movents. To track the rhythm of his Spatial Art.

Aldrich's grip tightened on the arrow.

"Observe. Adapt. Strike."

There was more to his combat style than just shooting arrows. But he wouldn't reveal that just yet. Not until the mont was right.

He nocked the arrow against his curved bow.

Kyle remained still, watching.

"Should I be grateful that he's allowing the ti to aim?"

Not that it mattered. Aldrich was fast. He could draw, nock, and fire in the blink of an eye if needed.

But why waste energy?

Why rush?

Every move needed to be deliberate. Every action had to serve a purpose.

He pulled back the string, adjusting for precision

And... He fired.

The arrow flew through the air, its speed remarkable, but Kyle was just as fast.

With little effort, he caught it.

The crowd barely reacted. It was expected. Kyle Dandada, catching an arrow? That was nothing impressive.

But then—

The silver arrowhead turned red.

Kyle's expression shifted, his pupils contracting as realization struck.

Aldrich smirked.

A low whine humd from the tip of the arrow, a signal of what was about to co.

Kyle hurled it away.

The instant it hit the ground—

Boom!

A controlled explosion burst forth, sending a shockwave across the arena. Dust billowed outward, leaving a small crater in the solid ground.

Kyle lowered his arm, gaze flicking toward Aldrich with sothing close to amusent.

"You learned a new trick."

It wasn't quite a surprise. It wasn't quite admiration.

But it was enough.

Enough to prove that Aldrich was no longer the sa opponent he had once been.

Aldrich exhaled, a fire burning in his chest.

He wanted this. He had trained for this.

And he wasn't done yet.

With renewed determination, he reached for another arrow.

A cocky grin played on his lips.

"I still have more in store."

Certainly?! An explosive trick wouldn't be all he had to show for the training session he had gone through this past two weeks.

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