The arena's shields shimmered back to life, cycling kinetic energy across the barrier walls.
David Ruiz stood at the edge of the sparring platform, adjusting the tape on his forearms. Across from him, Elira Morn slid her fingers down the flat of her katana, the edge faintly glowing with pulsing blue Desyre.
From the seats above, Kael leaned forward slightly, gaze sharp. Cyrhelle sat beside him, her cat curled in her lap, quiet. Levi chewed on a protein bar he didn't seem to like.
"Think he's got a plan?" Levi asked.
Kael didn't answer.
"Probably not," Cyrhelle said softly. "But he's smart. He learns fast."
"Cadet: Elira Morn. David Ruiz…
Begin."
The buzzer rang.
Elira dashed in.
David raised a wide hexagonal barrier just in time—then crack! Her katana sliced straight through the first layer with a flash of light, cutting down to the ground.
The crowd gasped.
"She's really cutting through those?" Levi muttered.
"Desyre-enhanced blade," Kael replied. "She channels it to slip through density."
"Great," Levi said. "So she's a surgeon with a lightsaber."
David dropped back, layering new barriers rapidly and stacked like folded glass. But Elira kept pressure tight, circling with graceful footwork, her blade humming through the air.
Another swipe — another barrier gone.
David grunted. His breathing sharpened. His defense was folding too quickly.
David narrowed his eyes, shifting behind a thicker construct, one that pulsed slowly with dense willpower.
"Direct won't work," he muttered under his breath. "She'll keep carving."
He clenched his fist — not to block this time, but to catch.
When Elira dashed in again, he let her katana strike into a partial opening—a trap. The outer layer gave way on purpose, allowing the blade to pass—
—but the next layer shifted behind it and locked around her arm.
"What—?" she muttered.
The barriers twisted inward, overlapping around her forearm. She struggled, but her katana was stuck — still in hand but unable to move. She could have phased it trough— but David dropped a second barrier behind her, closing the space and pinning her in a wedge.
"Clever," Kael murmured.
Levi blinked. "He's sealing her movement, not her blade."
Elira gritted her teeth and tugged—too late. David dashed forward, closed the gap, and with a lunge—
grabbed her wrist.
His eyes locked with hers. "Sorry."
He twisted slightly—just enough for the katana to slip from her hand, flipping it once before he tossed it out of the arena bounds.
The buzzer screamed.
"Match over! Winner — David Ruiz!"
The crowd erupted.
Kael, Cyrhelle, and Levi watched as David offered Elira a respectful bow. She gave a curt nod, brushing sweat from her brow.
Levi let out a low whistle. "Didn't think he had it in him."
Kael watched silently as David stepped down, hand pressed to his ribs. His knees wobbled slightly from overexertion.
Cyrhelle leaned forward. "He's pushing his limit."
As if on cue, David stumbled slightly on the last step.
"Oh, hell," Levi said. "That's a clinic trip."
Kael stood, but Cyrhelle stopped him gently. "He's got medics."
Charlotte stepped up the stairs a few minutes later, a cold compress resting on her shoulder and a faint line of sweat on her neck. She blinked when she saw the seat next to Kael empty.
"Where's David?" she asked, sitting beside Cyrhelle.
"Clinic," Levi said. "Won his match. Nearly blacked out doing it."
Charlotte raised a brow. "Seriously?"
"Seriously seriously," Levi added. "Guy just disarmed someone with a Desyre katana. I'd need a year of therapy after that."
Charlotte smirked faintly, then glanced over at Kael, who remained quiet.
"You okay?" she asked him.
Kael nodded, still watching the arena.
She followed his gaze — the next match was being prepared.
Cyrhelle tucked her sketchpad back into her bag. "He fought well."
Charlotte nodded once. "We all are."
The buzzers began to hum again, a new name flashing on the board.