The arena felt different when we returned. The air was thick with anticipation, but something else lingered beneath it—an undercurrent of unease that I couldn't quite place. Romaji and I made our way back to our seats, where Mashù sat watching the current match with unusual intensity.
"Mashù, what has happened so far?" Romaji asked, settling in beside him.
Mashù didn't take his eyes off the arena floor. "Well, uh, Yoku seems to really like Aoi, so he doesn't really want to hurt her."
Romaji groaned. "Oh, uh... well, he's a goner."
As if on cue, Aoi's lightning technique connected with devastating precision, sending Yoku sprawling across the arena floor. He didn't get up.
"And Yoku goes down!" the announcer's voice boomed. "The winner of this match is... Aoi Raitoningu!"
Yoku stumbled back to our section, a dopey grin plastered across his face despite his loss. "Well, guys, I think I'm in love."
"Bro, why would you purposely lose like that?" Romaji demanded.
"I couldn't hurt someone so beautiful. That's my future wife right there." Yoku gazed toward where Aoi was accepting congratulations from her teammates.
I couldn't help myself. "She's not even looking your way, dude."
"Shut up! Everyone can't have it as easy as you!" Yoku's face flushed. "Yo, Writer, give me a significant other also! I'm down bad here!"
"Who is he talking to?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"I don't know," Romaji replied with a shrug.
Migan's voice cut through our conversation. "Well, on to the next match."
S.E.I.D.'s ethereal form materialized above the arena. "Anjero Sutanrì..."
My stomach dropped. Guess I'm up next.
"Versus Jeremi Naeme!"
"Oh, come on!" The words escaped before I could stop them. Of all the opponents I could have drawn, it had to be him. Not after last night's strange visit, not with the way he'd been acting.
"Well, folks, this should be a good one!" the announcers declared, their enthusiasm grating against my nerves.
I looked up at S.E.I.D.'s glowing form. "S.E.I.D., what's with these picks for me?"
The spirit's response was oddly stilted. "I... I... I... I am not obligated to answer that."
Well, that was weird. The way S.E.I.D. had stuttered, as if fighting against some outside control, sent a chill down my spine.
Up in the headmaster's box, I saw Aado lean toward one of the staff members. "Rafaeru, can you go check that out?"
"Already on it..." came the response.
I descended to the arena floor, my mind racing through possible strategies. Jeremi was already waiting, and the intensity in his eyes hadn't diminished since last night. If anything, it had grown stronger.
"While that's being fixed, are you two ready?" Migan asked, positioning himself between us.
"Yeah, I guess," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
"Been waiting for this," Jeremi replied, his voice carrying an edge that made my skin crawl.
"Ready... Set... Fight!"
Jeremi wasted no time closing the distance between us. "I guess you got your wish early, Jeremi," I said, raising my guard.
"There's no one else in this tournament I'd rather fight. Show me that power that defeated Tenki!" His eyes blazed with an almost feverish excitement.
"You're a little too excited about this, but I've gotten stronger since, so let's do this. VAPOR FISTS!"
My hands erupted with the familiar mist of my vapor technique, each punch trailing streams of condensed moisture. Jeremi met my attack with his own.
"Ominous Strike!"
The dark energy that surrounded his fist was the same technique I'd seen him use before, but something about it felt different now—more concentrated, more dangerous. "I've seen that move before!"
We clashed in the center of the arena, trading blow for blow. Each impact sent shockwaves through the air, the sound of our techniques colliding like thunder. Jeremi matched me strike for strike, his movements fluid and precise.
"Geez, you're not playing around, huh?" I panted, sweat beading on my forehead.
"Why are you holding back?" Jeremi's question came out as an accusation.
"Who says I'm holding back?"
His next words made my blood run cold. "Use your real strength, or I'll kill you here and now."
I took a step back, my guard dropping slightly in shock. "Woah, buddy, chill out. It's not that serious. What's going on with you today?"
"Nothing." Jeremi's expression was unreadable. "Fight me seriously. With the intent to kill."
Something was seriously wrong. This wasn't normal competitive spirit—this was something darker, more desperate. "I'm good, but I won't lose to you. VAPOR BULLETS!"
I launched a barrage of compressed vapor projectiles, knowing they wouldn't be enough to finish the fight but hoping to create some distance to figure out what was happening with him.
"Those won't do anything!" Jeremi batted them aside with contemptuous ease.
But that was exactly what I'd counted on. Using the distraction, I circled behind him with vapor-enhanced speed. "Don't you think I know that? Aalto Vapor Fist!"
My technique connected—a rapid combination of vapor-enhanced strikes that caught Jeremi off guard. The final blow sent him to one knee, the first real damage I'd managed to inflict.
"Damn, that hurt!" Jeremi's grin was almost manic as he looked up at me. "This is good."
Then something changed. A small device in his ear—an earpiece I hadn't noticed before—began blinking rapidly. I could just barely hear a voice coming through it.
"What? No! I'm finally having fun! Don't you dare—"
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the entire academy. A massive fireball erupted from the North wing of the school, the shockwave strong enough to crack windows throughout the complex. Debris rained down as alarms began wailing throughout the arena.
"Rafaeru!" Aado's voice carried across the chaos, his usual composure shattered.
"Woah! What's going on?!" I shouted, struggling to keep my balance as the arena floor shook.
"Everyone! Please evacuate through the six exits!" the announcers' voices had lost all their entertainment flair, replaced by barely controlled panic.
The crowd erupted into chaos. Students and spectators surged toward the exits in a massive, disorganized wave. Our group tried to maintain some semblance of order.
"Everyone, this way!" Mashù called out, directing people toward the nearest exit.
"Follow the main character to this exit!" Romaji shouted with his usual bravado, though I could hear the fear underneath.
"Go this way!" Yoku added his voice to the chorus.
I was about to join them when I saw it—a strange, shimmering barrier materializing across Exit 1. A figure I didn't recognize stood before the trapped crowd, his hands raised as if conducting an orchestra.
"GALACTIC JAIL!" His voice carried over the screaming. "I got all the people leaving Exit 1."
"What is this?!" Mashù's voice was filled with confusion and rising panic.
At Exit 2, another figure emerged. Ruisu—the same student who'd forfeited against Jeremi, the one with the poison spirit.
"Toxic Paralysis! I got Exit 2."
"Why?" Romaji's question echoed what we were all thinking.
Then, at Exit 3, a voice I recognized with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"Trick Room! Oh, look what I got—a bunch of people, and a bonus prize. Yoku, how've you been, buddy?"
Osore. One of Yoku's supposed friends from Spirit East.
"This is not the time for games, Osore! Let us all go!" Yoku's voice cracked with betrayal.
"And why would I do that?" Osore's casual tone was chilling. "Exit 3 is secured."
Through all this chaos, I'd lost sight of Jeremi. He'd been right in front of me when the explosion happened, but now—
"Where's Jeremi?" came a voice through what must have been a communication system between the attackers. It was Ruisu speaking.
"Earpiece—I believe he's still in the arena fighting," Osore replied, his trick room shimmering ominously.
"What? Why? He's ditching the mission." Ruisu's voice took on an edge of panic. "Jeremi, get your behind to him now! The others can't fight him without you. Jeremi? Jeremi?!"
The pieces clicked into place with horrible clarity. This was a coordinated attack. Jeremi had been part of it from the beginning. The explosion, the blocked exits, his strange behavior—it had all been planned.
But Jeremi had gone off script. He'd stayed in the arena with me, ignoring his orders, focused only on our fight.
I turned to find him standing exactly where I'd left him, his earpiece discarded on the arena floor, crushed beneath his heel. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw something that might have been regret.
"I told them I wasn't done yet," he said quietly, raising his fists once more.
Behind us, the academy burned. Around us, students were trapped like animals in cages. And in front of me stood someone I'd almost considered a friend, who'd apparently been an enemy all along.
But for reasons I couldn't begin to understand, Jeremi Naeme had chosen to ignore his mission, betray his co-conspirators, and continue our fight.
The question was: why?