A massive holographic screen flickered to life above the arena, bathing the remaining rookies in its blue light. Names began to shuffle rapidly in a randomized algorithm before snapping into place, displaying the first set of matchups.
The first few duels were a messy affair. Nerves, exhaustion, and raw, unrefined skill led to clumsy brawls more than actual combat. Hunters tripped over their own feet, swung wildly, and were often defeated by a single, well-placed tap from their opponent.
Theodore watched from above, his expression unreadable.
Then, the screen updated.
<< MATCH 7: RUSSELL ZODIAC vs. MARIA >>
Russell let out a short, incredulous laugh.
He looked across at his opponent.
She was of average height, with her dark hair tied back in a practical braid. Her armor was standard issue, like his, and she held a simple, unadorned spear.
She seemed… unremarkable.
He stepped onto the designated platform, a confident smirk on his face.
"Ha! A girl? Is this a joke?" he said, loud enough for those nearby to hear. He placed his hand on Emma's hilt but didn't draw her.
"Sorry, but I don't raise my hands on a woman. Maybe you should just forfeit."
Maria didn't flinch. Her expression remained calm, almost bored. She tilted her head slightly, a faint, mocking smile touching her lips.
"Oh? Already scared? What a coward. You'd rather make excuses than fight."
The smirk vanished from Russell's face. His pride—already stung by the Magus's earlier nepotism comment—flared white-hot.
"Coward? My foot!" he snapped.
In one fluid motion, he drew Emma, the blade singing as it left the scabbard.
"Fine then, come on! Let's see how long you can keep up with that toothpick!"
He assumed his now-familiar wide stance, ready to overpower her with brute force.
The moment Theodore's holographic hand signaled the start of the match, Russell lunged.
It was the same reckless, wide-arcing slash he'd used on the Grunts.
Maria didn't try to block it.
She moved.
It was a blur of efficient motion. She sidestepped the telegraphed attack with an inch to spare, the wind of it rustling her hair. As Russell's momentum carried him forward—off-balance—she didn't thrust with her spear.
Instead, she reversed her grip and slammed the metal-capped butt of the weapon hard into the back of his knee.
Russell grunted in pain and surprise, his leg buckling. Before he could recover, the spear shaft whirled in her hands, becoming a blur. It cracked against his wrist with pinpoint accuracy. A sharp, numbing pain shot up his arm, and his grip on Emma loosened.
With a final, devastatingly fast motion, she swept his other leg out from under him.
Russell hit the durasteel platform flat on his back, the air driven from his lungs.
Before he could even process what had happened, the sharp, cold point of Maria's spear was resting gently on his throat.
The entire exchange had taken less than three seconds.
Silence fell over the arena.
Maria looked down at him, her expression still utterly calm.
"Looks like I kept up," she said, her voice quiet but carrying across the stunned silence.
She didn't smirk.
She didn't gloat.
She simply stated a fact.
High above, Archmagus Theodore allowed himself a small grunt of approval. The boy had power, but the girl had skill.
And in the crucible of Titan, skill almost always won.