The tournament surged forward, a symphony of fists and fury across the neon-lit battle domes of Xyprus Academy. Fighters rose. Fighters fell.
And one name echoed louder with each round.
Kairon Vex.
He didn't celebrate.
He didn't boast.
He didn't bleed.
Opponents came armed with augments, style algorithms, and AI-predictive counters. Kairon dismantled them with movements that felt... primal. Improvised. Efficient.
To the untrained eye, he looked like a prodigy. To the instructors — he looked like a problem.
And to Vaelric Thorne, he looked like an insult.
Upper Stands, Private Skybox
Vaelric leaned forward, eyes narrowing as Kairon delivered a third-round knockout with a single elbow to the throat. No drama. No delay.
It's not just technique, he thought. It's instinct.
Beside him, a few top-seed students whispered.
"You think he's military-grown?"
"No tags. No scans. Some say he's from the Outer Districts."
"I heard he's a Thorne clone."
"Bastard son, maybe?"
"But look at him — doesn't have the look."
They were right.
Kairon didn't have the Thorne fire.
No golden-etched glare. No royal posture. No pride.
He was pale, almost sickly in the wrong light. Black hair, yes — but not sleek, wild. And his eyes…
Dark. Dead. Hollow.Like they weren't seeing the world — they were measuring it.
When he looked at you, it wasn't hatred or arrogance.
It was like he was watching you decay.
Tournament Lounge – That Evening
Vaelric descended into the lounge later than usual. It was filled with murmurs, quiet stares. Kairon sat alone at a bench, drinking water, taping his wrists.
Some students cleared the room.
Vaelric didn't stop walking until he stood right in front of him.
The room went still.
"You," Vaelric said.
Kairon glanced up. "Me."
"You're getting attention."
Kairon nodded. "So are you."
"Where did you train?" Vaelric pressed.
"I didn't."
"Bullshit."
Silence.
Kairon tilted his head slightly. "Why do you care?"
"You're in my arena. People are talking."
"Let them."
"You fight like you're hiding something," Vaelric said. "That bothers me."
Kairon's eyes finally sharpened — the first sign of emotion. Not anger. Not fear.
Recognition.
"You're used to being the only predator in the room," Kairon said quietly. "Now you're not."
For the first time in years, Vaelric's jaw tightened.
Outside, Moments Later
Instructor Rhys watched the cameras, noting every body movement, every word exchange.
Kaien stood beside him.
"He'll have to face him eventually," Rhys said.
Kaien nodded. "When that happens… it won't just be fists flying."
Later That Night – Dream Fragment
Kairon slept uneasily. In the dark of his mind, flashes surged.
A throne of bones.
A scream, unending.
A fist wreathed in fire.
Then…
A voice.
"He is not your rival.He is your reminder."