"3... 2... 1... Begin."
Commander Reeves' voice echoed through the arena, and the fight erupted into action.
Before Ben could even take a step forward, the pale, skinny boy—Henrik—raised his right arm, elbow pointing directly at Ben's face.
In a flash, the skin, muscle, and flesh beneath Henrik's elbow split open, his tricep disconnecting from the rest of his arm yet still attached by glistening tendons and vessels. From within the opening, a black gun barrel emerged as if it had been waiting there all along, the flesh peeling back like a hidden compartment.
All of this happened in less than a second before a bullet blasted forth, striking Ben's jaw with surgical precision.
Mateo jerked forward to the edge of his seat. The opening move had come so fast he nearly missed it. What if Alex had a quirk like that—something lethal and instantaneous? The chattering room fell silent, all eyes locked on the screen as they waited to see if Ben had survived.
Smoke curled from Henrik's organic weapon as he reset, the gun sliding back into his flesh, skin sealing behind it without a trace. What kind of quirk allowed someone to generate firearms within their own body? Mateo felt a wave of relief that he wasn't facing such an unpredictable opponent.
But Ben remained standing. As the smoke cleared, he appeared completely unharmed. He simply smiled at Henrik, settling back into a fighting stance as if nothing had happened.
Is that what Ben meant by "resilient"? Mateo wondered. He'd just absorbed a bullet without flinching. Was it some form of shock absorption, or pure invulnerability?
Henrik didn't hesitate to press his advantage. He charged forward, his right forearm splitting open as a gleaming metal blade erupted from within. He slashed at Ben's midsection with devastating force, aiming to disembowel him. Ben barely had time to react—but he didn't need to. The blade sliced through his shirt, fabric tearing with a sharp rip, but it skidded harmlessly across his skin without leaving so much as a scratch.
Henrik spun around, eyes widening as he processed his failed attack. Without breaking stride, he unleashed his gun arm again, firing three rapid shots targeting Ben's head, heart, and other vital points—methodically testing for any weakness in Ben's seemingly impenetrable defense.
Ben charged forward this time, absorbing each hit without injury. Yet physics still applied—each bullet's impact sent shockwaves through his body, pushing him back several steps despite his invulnerability. He grimaced, fighting against the momentum, determined to close the distance.
"Stop!" Commander Reeves' voice boomed through the speakers. "The outcome here is clearly a stalemate. You may proceed to the waiting room for evaluation."
Mateo exhaled slowly. It was the logical conclusion. Henrik could unleash an arsenal from his own body, but Ben could withstand anything thrown at him. Henrik might fare differently against someone with offensive capabilities, but Ben's defensive quirk made him the immovable object in any confrontation.
Around him, spectators grumbled about the anticlimactic fight, some bloodthirsty viewers openly wishing for at least a broken limb or two.
As Ben and Henrik were escorted to the waiting area, Mateo heard his name called.
"Mendoza and Velez! You're up."
Mateo's pulse quickened as he followed Commander Reeves toward the arena doors. Alex was already there, bouncing lightly on her toes, energy radiating from her compact frame.
"Ready to lose?" she asked, a predatory grin spreading across her face.
"Don't count on it," Mateo replied, though his mouth had gone desert-dry.
The massive doors swung open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the sprawling arena—a meticulously crafted simulation of an urban war zone. Half-collapsed buildings jutted from the ground at dangerous angles, overturned vehicles created barriers across broken streets, and scattered debris offered countless hiding spots and tactical advantages. In the distance, the sounds of simulated gunfire and explosions created an atmosphere of chaotic realism.
"This environment replicates conditions at the eastern front," Commander Reeves explained, her voice clinical and detached. "Familiarize yourselves with the terrain. Combat begins in five minutes."
She left them at the entrance as a holographic countdown materialized in the air above the arena.
"So," Alex said, stretching her arms overhead with deliberate casualness, "what's your plan?"
Mateo ignored her, focusing instead on surveying the battlefield. The arena stretched before him, easily the size of a football field. The ruined structures created multiple engagement levels—he could fight from the ground or seek higher positions for tactical advantage.
"Silent treatment? Fine." Alex rolled her eyes. "But don't say I didn't give you a chance to forfeit."
The countdown hit zero, and a deafening horn blasted through the arena, signaling the beginning of their combat.