Kieran was already bored by the second period.
His leg bouncing up and down. Classes dragged on. The clock felt like it moved in reverse. Every teacher sounded like they were mumbling through a fog, and all he could think about was the fact that, somewhere out there, a fight was waiting for him. One that he will remember forever, and it may be today.
Tanaka had gotten a fun match; Roy had… well, he had a match. But Kiearn? Kieran was worried his opponent would end up being some random nobody who thought having a soul art automatically made them strong.
By lunch, he was pressing his cheek against his hand while staring out the window, watching the clouds move faster than the hour hand on the classroom clock.
When the final bell finally rang, it felt more like mercy than anything else.
They regrouped at the station, all four of them, slumping down onto the benches as they waited for the train.
"Are you nervous?" Tnaka asked with his mouth half full with a croissant he bought from the convenience store as he noticed Kieran's restless tapping legs.
Kieran shook his head. "No. I'm just hoping I get someone actually worth the time."
"Careful," Brock muttered. "You don't want to jinx yourself."
Kieran kicked his foot lightly against the bench. "True, but it's still better than hoping for an easy win."
The train arrived with a loud groan of brakes. They all boarded, finding a corner near the back.
The recently strained relationship between Tanaka, Brock and Roy had finally closed, at least from what Kieran knew. A few days after their fight, Roy went to them and apologised, insisting that he didn't want to fight initially anyway, so he gave the other guy an easy win. Tanaka accepted with a weary shrug, irritation still flickering in his eyes.
Brock, on the other hand, refused to let it slide so easily. His silence was heavier than any insult, his jaw tight.
Roy had everything that I don't have, and he still threw it away.
Brock didn't want to accept it, but he did.
Roy carried something inside of him, a want, a need, but the words never left his mouth. Each time he thought to speak, Brock's scowl cut him down before he could rise. So he swallowed it, buried it, and let the moment pass. Whatever he had hoped for dissolved into the quiet, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of surrender.
The three walked on together, but the air between them slightly changed, different now than it used to be. The fight was, yes, but the feelings between them were not the same as before.
The conversation turned into speculation about Kieran's opponent that was listed as "Cyrus Valen", but there was no previous record of him.
So He was just as new as them.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the station near the venue… and realised it would take exactly twenty minutes to reach the arena. Which meant they were already late.
"Run." Roy simply said, and they did.
Through the back streets and the narrow alleys. Past the street vendors shouting prices and tourists blocking pathways getting scammed by scam artists. Kieran led, with Brock yelling for him to slow down and Tanaka threatening them to slow down or he will get lost.
Ten minutes of sprinting later, they reached the smaller venue. The combat hall was built beside the colossal white-stoned colosseum where the finals would be held in a few weeks.
Kieran bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. "We made it."
Roy, completely unfazed by the fact they barely arrived on time to Kieran's fight, looked around. "I'm hungry."
Kieran stared at him. "Seriously?"
Roy replied. "Seriously. I'll be back before it starts."
"Whatever. Just don't miss it."
Roy nodded and peeled off toward a line of food stalls set up along the outer plaza. The closer he got, the louder the smell of spices and sizzling oil hit him, and unfortunately, the prices were too high. Everything had been hiked up. Basic economics, sure. A right shift in the demand curve increases the price levels.
Still, it is annoying as hell.
He stopped at a stall where an old man was cooking a fresh batch of Aloo Gobi in a red-orange sauce.
Roy ordered two.
One thing about Roy that he didn't really know why he followed was that he never ate meat on Tuesdays. Someone had told him once, maybe a long time ago now, that you shouldn't. He couldn't remember who. Just that… that person told him it, and he followed blindly to them.
The old man handed over a little bowl with Aloo Gobi with chopped onions and coriander covering it.
Roy picked up the toothpick and stabbed at one of the pieces and at it.
The taste was good. Better than good. He thanked the vendor.
"Thank you, boy. Enjoy the food." The old cook smiled as he then turned to the next customer.
Roy simply nodded, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer as he headed back toward the venue.
Then he saw someone by the old stone fountain in the centre of the live plaza.
A massive, broad figure in a dark grey coat and an old knight's helmet. People stared at him while they walked past him.
He really was eye-catching, huh?
And maybe the one gauntleted hand really is the cherry on the cake, Roy wondered.
He saw him flicking a small coin into the fountain.
It was Thatch.
He had no surname. He had no face. Just the name itself, like a title.
Roy stopped.
Before he could call out, Thath's helmeted head turned in his direction. He'd felt him; of course he did.
Thatch walked toward him with long, heavy steps. Not fast. Not rushed. Just inevitable, like a boulder deciding to move.
"You're back early," Roy said once he got close enough, keeping his voice low.
Thatch didn't answer right away. He just looked down at Roy, then offered the smallest nod a man of his size could manage.
Roy glanced at the fountain. "Was that a good luck coin?"
Another nod.
Roy tossed the empty food container in the nearby bin and wiped his fingers on his blazer. "Yeah. We all are going to need it."
The knight's helmet tilted just slightly, as if amused.
Roy started walking toward the venue entrance, Thatch falling in step beside him. They didn't speak.
Some people walk together and fill the air with words. Others understand that silence is a form of conversation itself.
Thatch stopped just before the venue entrance and held something out.
A folded slip of paper, thick and worn around the edges.
Roy took it without thinking, unfolding it with one hand.
A single sentence written in Thatch's heavy, blocky handwriting, taught by him.
Roy stared at it for a moment.
He didn't reply. Didn't nod. But Thatch seemed to understand all the same. The big man gave him one last look and then turned and headed toward the side entrance reserved for staff and "special guests", his heavy footsteps falling into the crowd noise.
Roy remained where he was.
Introduce ourselves, huh…
He clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. He had completely forgotten about it. As much as he hated to admit it, Thatch was right.
Nova in Veil had stayed in the shadows long enough. Eventually, they had to step into the spotlight.
Not as rumours or ghosts, but as something more than that.
Something the world would have to acknowledge.
But an introduction had to be done properly.
It must have the right timing.
The right place.
The right stage.
If you announced your name in the wrong crowd, no one would remember. Worse, they'd forget seconds later.
He folded the note again and again until he couldn't and then slipped it into his pocket, watching the arena entrance like someone staring at a locked door.
Not yet.
He needed something that would reach everyone. To the rich. To the soldiers. To the merchants and to the outcast. He needed something that would carve itself into memory.
For a long moment, Roy just stood there in the crowd, expression blank, until he heard the announcer's voice echo out from the arena speakers.
"And as the Grand Tournament of Richt draws closer, these minor brackets will decide who rises and fades!"
"Champions may be forged today, but legends, legends are born in the colosseum!"
The crowd roared.
Roy's expression didn't change… But a small, dangerous smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.
Found it.
That was the stage he needed.
A place where everyone's attention will be, where the whole world would have its eyes on the arena.
The smile widened just a little more.
So that's where we'll say hello.
He headed inside to watch Kiearn's fight.