I felt strange.

  It was the kind of strange feeling you feel after a long, scorching day at school, when all you want is to collapse in bed and vanish into sleep. But your body aches for something else, something colder. So you step into the shower and let the icy water cascade over your overheated skin, and as it seeps into you, everything slows. Your mind clears. The dull monotony, the suffocating heat, the exhaustion, it all fades.

  And for that brief moment, you can only breathe. You can only feel.

  That’s what this was.

  I knew exactly what to do now.

  If I didn’t have a weapon, then I would become one…….speaking of cold showers, is it just me, or is the Arena getting a little bit chilly-

  “WHAAAAAAT—”

  Gabno’s voice rang across the arena, only to screech into silence as his horn cut out mid-shout. He smacked the device with his palm, frowning.

  Even his horn couldn’t handle his voice.

  “Sorry about that, folks! But anyway—WHAAAAAAT! Did I really see that? Did Beric just Waterfall Counter with his bare hands?!”

  Malo, pulling himself upright again, slid into a tight infighter’s stance. His shoulders forward, guard high, feet bouncing lightly. His eyes locked on me. Then he lunged.

  Dang, dude, I don’t even get a second to think about what just happened?

  His left jab shot out. I swiped it aside, twisting just enough to make his right cross whistle past my ear. He snapped into a left hook, but I caught his arm with both hands and pulled. The motion yanked him slightly off balance, giving me just enough space to drive my elbow into his jaw.

  The strike landed with a dull crack. Malo’s head snapped back, and I could see that it had some effect as he stumbled back.

  Dude.

  “What?”

  You can actually win.

  “Don't jinx it, nimrod.”

  Malo surged forward again, this time layering jabs behind his guard. Each one snapped toward my face like a piston. I weaved and backpedaled, each dodge tighter than the last, my feet scraping the dirt. But something about the way he was moving nagged at me. His jabs felt weaker.

  What was he trying to do?

  Yo, behind you! He’s herding you to the hole!

  Oh. That’s it.

  Not bad at all.

  I kept my face blank, pretending I hadn’t noticed. Jab after jab after jab. I let him think he was pushing me, until eventually, my heel touched the edge of the depression in the ground. My weight shifted and I “stumbled” right into his trap.

  Malo’s eyes lit up. His right cross blasted toward my face like a hammer.

  Right on cue.

  I whipped my palm upward, redirecting his punch skyward. I was already bracing for the follow-up hook. His lead foot sliding forward confirmed my suspicion.

  But instead of the hook, pain exploded in my leg.

  I looked down just in time to feel Malo’s knee slam against the side of my thigh.

  “Gh—!” My guard dipped for a split second, and that was all he needed. His straight right drove into me with punishing force, sending me tumbling backward out of the pit.

  Good news: I was out of the hole.

  Bad news: Malo wasn’t slowing down.

  He chased with terrifyingly fast combos. One-two. One-two. Over and over, the jabs and crosses hammered me. I deflected what I could, absorbed what I couldn’t. Each blow sent jolts rattling through my arms and ribs.

  Iron Shell wasn't enough.

  I needed more.

  The crowd gasped and murmured, awed at Malo’s relentless onslaught. Each punch looked lethal, each strike the kind of blow that would drop any other man in one hit.

  But I still kept my guard up.

  I have to wait.

  I endured more one twos.

  I noticed a slight delay in Malo’s tempo.

  His breath grew ragged. His hands weren’t as fast now, with each strike slowing down more and more, until finally, he snapped forward and grabbed me in a clinch.

  He did this to stall, to allow him to get his energy back.

  Malo pinned me close, his weight crushing against my torso.

  This clinch narrowed my options. There wasn’t much I could do.

  I looked up at him. “Not bad. You’re shutting down my movement, limiting what I can do."

  I was surprised he even knew how to clinch.

  "But the thing about narrowing options-”

  I tightened my core. My fist coiled against his chest.

  “is that it makes the choice obvious.”

  I drove a one-inch punch straight into his sternum.

  The impact thundered through him. Malo’s eyes bulged, and he staggered backward, coughing, one hand clutching his chest. He nearly fell.

  “Lightning Pierce!” Merilda and Cedric shouted in unison.

  Elder Alric chuckled under his breath. “He really can pull off anything, huh?”

  From their seats, it looked like Lightning Pierce. They weren’t wrong. It was, technically. Just not the one they knew.

  Just a different version of the one-inch punch, though honestly, it doesn’t really have that big of a difference-

  Hmm.

  “What?”

  It’s weird. How do you even know so much martial arts stuff? Boxing, Muay Thai, MMA, now the one-inch punch. Just what the hell were you doing back on Earth?

  “You want the real answer?”

  ?

  “I read online comics about high school delinquents beating the shit out of each other. While reading them, I kind of naturally picked up the techniques from what they used.”

  ……....What? So you didn’t actually do martial arts?

  “Nope. Just comics.”

  Sys rubbed his head.

  How does that even make sense?

  “I practiced them in my room sometimes.”

  And how’d that go?

  “I broke my right arm."

  Sys cackled like a hyena.

  I froze when Malo suddenly yelled, his palm cracking across his own cheek.

  What the hell was that about?

  Malo asked himself the same thing.

  What was he doing? Why was he exhausted already? Why couldn’t he keep up with Beric’s pace?

  The truth was clear. He wasn’t used to fighting like this, mixing body strengthening magic with the “Brawling” style Jain had taught him. He had never truly trained it.

  And well, why bother?

  He never needed to. No one pushed him this far. Before, Jain nagged him to practice his Form, but Malo dismissed it every time.

  What was the point of training for a challenge that didn’t exist?

  But, here it was. Here was the challenge.

  Here was the fight that had started everything.

  And yet here he was, gasping, falling behind, cursing himself for being so arrogant.

  What use was strength if you didn’t even know how to wield it?

  Malo then shivered as he felt the winds begin to fly, carrying a slight chilly feeling to them.

  “No.”

  Malo glanced upwards.

  The lost clouds that he had known for so long now were grouping together.

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  They had a destination.

  It was going to happen soon, but no, Malo couldn’t let that happen.

  This was the fight he had been waiting for.

  “I’ve waited so long for this, and I have the audacity to fall behind?”

  Malo’s fists trembled.

  He couldn’t let that unstoppable force end the fight early.

  But, he also didn’t want the fight to end because of fatigue. He didn’t want his own negligence to ruin it. To lose this battle would mean admitting that all the years before—all the effortless victories, all the wasted days, all the silent pain—had been meaningless.

  And that thought was unbearable.

  He didn’t like the concept of having been able to change such an outcome if he was stronger.

  He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I don’t care if I’m tired. I don’t care if I’ve never mastered this. I refuse to end this fight like a coward.”

  His gaze burned into Beric.

  Here was an opponent worthy of everything he had.

  Malo would not let it be ruined.

  “That’s why I’m done.” His voice shook with fury and exhilaration. “I know it’d be smarter to hold back to whittle you down. But I don’t want that. I don’t want this fight to end in such a way. I’ll finish this here on my terms.”

  He raised his hands. His stance was familiar, but different. One leg lifted, balanced, ready to check or strike. His guard was tighter and more dangerous.

  “I refuse to keep holding back. And I hope you feel the same.”

  Alright then. This is it, huh?

  If he’s going to go wild, I’d need something fluid, something like……...Aikido blended with Jeet Kune Do.

  I dropped into a low, fluid stance, feet a little wider than shoulder-width, knees loose. My right hand hovered forward, palm open, ready to parry or redirect whatever Malo threw my way, while my rear hand stayed close to my chin. I angled my body just enough to make myself a smaller target, keeping my weight balanced so I could pivot, sidestep, or step in at a moment’s notice.

  “I want this fight to be perfect,” Malo said. “That’s why I’ll end it before any outside force ruins it. I’ll end it here, now, while it still matters.”

  “I’ll end it before it comes.” Malo thought to himself.

  I have to end it in one singular attack. I have to perfectly time a parry and counterattack him with the full force of an attack. That means I have to purposely make an opening, to incite a strong attack. But, if he sees that coming, it’ll only bite me back.

  I have to end this now.

  “I have to end this now.” Malo thought.

  The crowd felt it.

  Malo felt it.

  Sys felt it.

  I felt it.

  This fight was going to end here.

  Malo burst forward.

  I stood, ready to parry, but just as Malo raised his fist, I felt it.

  He felt it.

  The crowd felt it.

  Sys jolted.

  We felt rain drops.

  One splattered on my cheek. Another on my arm. Malo froze mid-step. We all turned our faces upward.

  The bright sky that had bathed the tournament in light was gone, smothered by a blanket of heavy gray clouds.

  More drops fell. Dozens. Hundreds. Until the arena was swallowed in a curtain of rain.

  It was raining.

  Gabno groaned into the mic, the sound loud enough to make Adam wince in both cringe and annoyance.

  “Why does it have to rain now?” Gabno muttered under his breath.

  What a buzzkill. Of course, during a fight that was about to reach its climax, between two people who were going to end it with one more clash, the rain decided to ruin it.

  Gabno was severely annoyed. “Unfortunately, my fellow viewers, as you can all see, it’s begun to rain. Normally, this wouldn’t be such an issue, but-”

  Before he could finish, Gabno ducked under the announcer’s table. Jain quickly joined him.

  Around the arena, spectators scrambled for cover. Some shoved themselves beneath benches or conjured quick barriers of shimmering mana overhead. A few loyal fans simply stood in place, letting the rain soak into their clothes.

  The reason why was simple. It wasn’t just rain anymore.

  It was a storm.

  You know those days, those deceptively normal mornings where you’re sitting in class, staring absently out the window, and the sky suddenly shifts? From what used to be a sunny morning with a few white clouds that littered a calm, baby blue sky, there now forms dark clouds curling in on themselves, and the sky taking on a color similar to the night sky.

  And when you realize it, just a few seconds later, you hear a faint tap-tap-tap sound on the glass.

  But, for some reason, you don’t think much of it.

  “Ah, it’ll be gone before I head home.”

  That little lie, that form of consolation, is used because of course you forgot your umbrella. The forecast swore it’d be sunny. And forecasts never lie…….right?

  But then the bell rings. You pack your bag, exit the class, and you join the wave of students pushing toward the door, only to stop cold at the entrance. Because outside isn’t just rain. It’s hell.

  Trees whipping, bent nearly to the ground. Streets turned into rivers. A curtain of water so dense you can’t see three feet ahead. Every raindrop slamming down like bullets rattling from a machine gun.

  And all you can think is: “I should’ve brought an umbrella.”

  Yeah. That was this storm.

  Thankfully, I had my barrier. A faint gray dome hummed around me, breaking the wind and diverting the sheets of water.

  Malo didn’t use one.

  He just stood there, staring up into the black sky.

  And I couldn’t lie, he looked badass doing it. Especially when I was struggling just to keep my footing against the gale.

  “Now, uh—” Gabno’s voice wavered, the mic catching in the wind. “With weather like this, to ensure fairness and, um, the safety of both fighters, we’ll have to ask the combatants if they’re willing to continue.”

  How considerate of them.

  I glanced at Adam, who was forcing his way toward us, shoulders hunched, legs braced against the gusts.

  “Did you two hear what Gabno said?” he shouted, his words nearly swallowed by the wind.

  “Yeah!” I called back.

  “So, what do you want to do?”

  I hesitated.

  Could I even win in this storm? The rain blurred my vision and muffled noises. My timing that was needed for a perfect counter would be affected by this.

  If you ask to end the match early, you’ll fail the quest.

  “……..And?”

  If you fail it, I’ll penalize you.

  “Which is?”

  Ever heard of the pregnancy challenge?

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Nope. Not doing that.

  I opened them again and shouted, “I’m fine with continuing.”

  Adam blinked in disbelief. “Are you—”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  He scratched his head, water dripping from his hair. “If you say so.”

  A sudden gust shoved him sideways. He steadied himself, then turned toward Malo. “Well, Malo, I’m sure you feel the same, so—”

  “It’s all ruined.”

  The words cut through the storm.

  Both Adam and I froze, staring at him.

  “The perfect fight is gone.”

  ……..Yo?

  “Malo, what are you talking about?” I asked.

  “As always,” Malo muttered, his eyes never leaving the sky, “the rain has come to ruin everything.”

  I glanced at Sys.

  He glanced back.

  Neither of us had a clue.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Adam said, “but I still need an answer. Do you want to keep fighting?”

  Malo turned his gaze on him. His eyes were empty. “Why?”

  “Huh?”

  “Why should the fight continue? What’s the point?”

  Adam faltered. “Uh, this is your first appearance in the Winged Fangs Tournament. Being part of the Zenith Generation, it’s expected you’d at least finish the fight.”

  Oh, that's right.

  “Hey, Sys,” I whispered, “what’s with this ‘Zenith Generation’? Gabno keeps saying it, and the elders mentioned it in the past.”

  Now’s not the time. This is serious business right here.

  "Nice excuse."

  Malo’s voice rose. “Are you saying I have to continue because of my name? Because I must prove myself again? Haven’t I done enough? Haven’t I entertained you all already? Why do I still have to fight?”

  Adam lifted his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m not saying you have to fight. I’m just saying it’s expected.”

  “Expected.” Malo spat the word like it was poison. His gaze shifted to me. “Then what about me? I’ve been fighting just to amuse the crowd, just to polish a reputation I barely care for. What about my opinion? What if I don’t want to fight?”

  Adam blinked. “Why wouldn’t you want to fight?”

  Malo glared. “With these conditions, Beric can’t show his true skill. The noise, the rain, it ruins his counters by ruining his senses. How could he fight me properly like this?”

  Wait. How’d he know that?

  It’s obvious. That’s all you’ve been doing—countering. It doesn’t take a genius.

  Malo’s eyes bored into mine. “Am I right?”

  I cleared my throat. “You’re right.”

  He swung back to Adam. “See? There’s no point. If Beric can’t be at his best, this fight is worthless.”

  “Whoa.” I raised my hands. “Hold on now! I’m fine with continuing. Yeah, I’ll be at a disadvantage, but so what? I’ve been disadvantaged from the start. Some rain won’t change that much.”

  It will.

  “Shut the hell up.”

  “He’s right,” Adam said firmly. “Beric’s been fighting with everything he has despite the odds. And even now, he still wants to go toe-to-toe with you.”

  Malo tsked. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t be the same.”

  Dude, just accept it. What’s the matter with-Oh wait.

  I snapped my fingers. “Hey, Adam, can’t you just make a barrier over the arena? It could keep the rain out, and we could keep fighting normally within it.”

  Adam sighed. “Good idea, but all the mana’s tied up reinforcing the arena and maintaining the city’s protective encasement. That barrier keeps the beasts out. If I divert the power, Malo’s strikes would tear this place apart.”

  Oh.

  I scratched my cheek.

  “Huh, that sucks, but eh, what can you do?” I turned to Malo. “Don’t worry about me, big guy. You should worry about yourself. How are you going to fight in all this rain?”

  He turned that dead-eyed stare on me. For a second, it was like looking into a corpse.

  “That’s my point,” he said flatly. “This cursed rain cripples us both. It ruins everything. The fight won’t end like how I had wished for, like how any of us had wished for. It’ll end because the storm decided to appear.” His jaw clenched. “I hate it.”

  “I get that, but so what? My counters won’t be picture-perfect, but—”

  “Exactly!” Malo snapped. His voice thundered louder than the storm. “Without them, you’re nothing. Without that skill, you’re just another ordinary opponent.”

  Ouch.

  Where the hell was all this anger coming from?

  Malo turned away, fists trembling at his sides. He stared down at the soaked ground.

  “It took her,” he whispered. “And now it took my fight.”

  Her?

  I opened my mouth to ask, but the words froze in my throat. A chill swept through the arena, colder than the rain. My eyes drifted toward the direction that it came from, and my eyes fell on Jain who stared back at me.

  His expression was somber. He shook his head slowly.

  I shut my mouth.

  Malo stood alone in the storm, trying to hold himself together. He tried to pretend the downpour wasn’t clawing into his skin, that the winds weren’t dragging at his balance, that the chill wasn’t worming into his bones.

  But he couldn’t. Not anymore.

  He’d never been able to ignore the rain. Or rather, once, long ago, he could. But not since then.

  As the storm roared, Malo thought of the unfairness of it all.

  How he’d waited for years. Years of dull fights, of empty victories, of never understanding why his opponents burned with passion when he felt nothing. Years of waiting for a battle that would make him feel alive again.

  And now, finally, it was here. The reason he still fought. The reason he’d dragged himself into the Winged Fangs Tournament.

  And, just as always, the rain came.

  The same ruthless, merciless rain.

  The same rain that had locked him indoors as a boy, away from the sky.

  The same rain that had stolen the warmth of the sun from him.

  The same rain that…………had taken someone dear to him.