5:17 PM - Same Day
The cleanup crew stood at the edge of the arena pit, staring down at the mess with expressions ranging from exhausted to openly annoyed.
"This is ridiculous," one of them said, gesturing at the crystalline formations scattered across the sand. "We've got beetles the size of cars, centipede corpses everywhere, and now this."
Another crew member knelt beside one of the larger crystal structures, tapping it with a crowbar. The geometric formation didn't budge. "It's not ice. It won't melt. We're going to have to break it apart piece by piece and haul it out."
"How long?"
"Hours. Maybe all night. Definitely can't do the 4 PM match tomorrow—we'd need at least until afternoon just to clear the basics."
Big Mama emerged from the tunnel entrance carrying a tray of water bottles for the crew. "Well, at least it was entertaining. That King fighter knows how to put on a show."
"Entertaining for you," the first crew member muttered. "We're the ones who have to clean it up."
She handed out the bottles with a shrug. "Consider it job security. Could be worse—could be unemployed."
The crew got to work, heavy equipment already being wheeled in. The sound of crystalline structures being shattered and loaded into disposal carts echoed through the empty arena.
—
Training Area - 5:23 PM
Lucius pushed open the door to the training facility, his body still sore from the earlier match but functional. Dr. Lois had cleared him for light activity, and sitting in his quarters wasn't productive.
The space was empty.
Except for one.
Odd stood near the heavy bags, working through a combination sequence. His movements were careful, deliberate, focused on technique rather than power. Sweat darkened his shirt despite the relatively low intensity.
He noticed Lucius entering and paused, genuine surprise crossing his face.
"King? What are you doing here?" Odd grabbed a towel, wiping his face. "Shouldn't you be resting or something? You just fought a triple threat a few hours ago."
Lucius moved to one of the benches, sitting down carefully. His ribs protested slightly. "Could say the same about you. Your match is tomorrow."
"Yeah, well..." Odd gestured vaguely at the heavy bag. "Figured I should get some work in. Was planning to visit you in medical later, actually. See how you were holding up after that insane fight."
"I'm fine. Bruised, but functional."
"Fine, he says." Odd shook his head, a slight smile appearing. "You crystallized half the arena, nearly drowned, killed a giant spider with your fist, and knocked out Plague. But yeah, totally fine."
Lucius's expression didn't change. "It worked out."
Odd sat down on the bench across from him, still processing. "So what brings you here? Thought you'd be taking it easy before the finals."
"Getting ready for the finals," Lucius replied simply. "I'll be facing whoever wins tomorrow. You or Adam Mavrick. Seemed like a good idea to prepare."
"Right. The finals." Odd's expression sobered slightly. "Against Adam."
"Or against you."
"Let's be real—it's going to be Adam." Odd's tone carried no bitterness, just pragmatic acceptance. "I know what I'm up against tomorrow."
Lucius studied him for a moment. "You could forfeit. You've already proven yourself. Made it to semifinals. That's more than most fighters accomplish."
"I could," Odd agreed. "But I won't. I came here for a reason. I need to give it everything i got."
"Admirable. Stupid, but admirable."
Odd laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Just being realistic." Lucius leaned back slightly, mindful of his ribs. "Adam Mavrick is dangerous. You know that."
"Yeah, I know. Three-time champion. High tier. Multiple abilities. Fast, strong, experienced." Odd counted off on his fingers. "I've heard the stories."
"Stories don't do him justice," Lucius said. "He's been fighting at elite level for over a decade. Military background before the tournament circuit. Every match he's in, he's evaluating, analyzing, breaking down his opponent's patterns. And once he figures you out, he doesn't give you room to adapt."
Odd was quiet for a moment. "You fought him before?"
"No. But I've watched him. Studied his matches." Lucius's analytical mind had spent considerable time reviewing Adam's tournament history. "He's methodical. Doesn't waste movement. Doesn't showboat. Just systematic dismantling of whoever's in front of him."
"Great. So I'm screwed."
"Probably."
"Again with the confidence."
Lucius's expression shifted slightly—not quite a smile, but close. "You asked for honesty. But that doesn't mean you should go in unprepared. You've got abilities. You've got training. You've got determination. Use them properly, and you might surprise him."
Odd looked up. "You think I have a chance?"
"I think you have the chance to make him work for it. To show him you're not just another opponent to crush." Lucius stood, moving toward the training mats. "And if you're going to do that, you need to refine what I've been teaching you."
"Now? You just got out of medical."
"Light sparring. Technique work. Nothing that'll aggravate my ribs." Lucius gestured for Odd to join him. "Unless you'd rather go in tomorrow with what you've got."
Odd stood immediately. "No, I'm good. Let's do this."
They moved to the center of the mats, taking positions across from each other.
"Show me your defensive stance," Lucius said.
Odd settled into position—weight balanced, hands ready, body slightly lowered to utilize his gel-based abilities for impact absorption.
Lucius circled slowly, observing. "Good foundation. But you're too static. Adam moves fast—not William Walker fast, but fast enough. If you're planted, he'll read your defensive options and exploit the gaps."
He demonstrated, shifting his own weight in subtle increments. "Stay mobile. Small adjustments. Keep him guessing where your defense is strongest."
Odd mimicked the movement, finding the rhythm.
"Better. Now, when he comes in with power strikes—which he will—don't try to block everything. You'll exhaust yourself." Lucius threw a slow-motion punch. "Redirect. Absorb what you can't redirect. Use your gel properties to dissipate force, not resist it directly."
They worked through the mechanics, Lucius providing corrections as Odd adjusted his technique.
"Your hardening ability," Lucius continued. "You harden at impact point. That works against normal fighters. Against Adam, you need to anticipate. Harden before impact, then release immediately after to maintain mobility."
"Won't that use more energy?"
"Yes. But the alternative is getting hit so hard your hardening doesn't matter." Lucius demonstrated with his own crystalline prosthetic, the geometric formations shifting slightly. "Timing over duration. Quick bursts, not sustained defense."
They continued drilling. Odd's movements gradually became more fluid, more efficient.
After twenty minutes, Lucius called a pause. "Enough technique. Let's talk strategy."
They sat at the edge of the mats, both breathing slightly harder.
"Adam's going to test you early," Lucius said. "Probably within the first thirty seconds. He'll throw something fast and powerful to see how you react. If you panic, he'll know. If you freeze, he'll know. If you handle it well, he'll adjust his approach."
"So what do I do?"
"Handle it well. Show him you're not easy prey." Lucius's tone was matter-of-fact. "After that, he'll start breaking you down systematically. He'll find your patterns, your tells, your weaknesses. And he'll exploit them until you can't defend anymore."
"You're really selling this fight."
"You asked what to expect. That's what to expect." Lucius looked at him directly. "But here's the thing—Adam respects determination. I've seen it in his matches. Fighters who give up easily, he crushes without a second thought. Fighters who keep getting up, who refuse to quit even when they're outmatched... he respects that. Sometimes he even shows mercy."
"Sometimes?"
"Sometimes." Lucius didn't sugarcoat it. "Other times, he finishes what he started. It depends on how you carry yourself."
Odd processed that. "So basically, fight smart, don't quit, and hope he's feeling merciful?"
"More or less."
"Fantastic plan."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"The tribunal," Odd said eventually. "That whole thing yesterday. You really think it was just for entertainment?"
Lucius nodded. "Mike Ross wanted to see how I'd react under pressure. Wanted to evaluate me. The charges were never the point—watching me defend myself was the point."
"That's twisted."
"That's the Big Boys. They don't do anything without ulterior motives." Lucius's expression darkened slightly. "Mike Ross is dangerous. Not because he's physically powerful, but because he treats people like experiments. Like toys to manipulate and observe. He orchestrated that entire tribunal just to gather data on me."
"Did it work?"
"Probably gave him exactly what he wanted. Showed him how I think, how I argue, how I handle pressure." Lucius's tone carried quiet frustration. "Which means he'll use that information eventually. Just a matter of when."
Odd looked uncomfortable. "You think he's planning something else?"
"I think he's always planning something." Lucius stood, stretching carefully. "But that's my problem, not yours. You focus on Adam. That's enough to worry about."
They returned to the mats for another round of drilling. Lucius worked Odd through various scenarios—dealing with speed attacks, handling power strikes, maintaining stamina under pressure.
By 6:15 PM, Odd was visibly fatigued but moving with noticeably better efficiency than when they'd started.
Lucius called the session. "That's enough. Any more and you'll be too sore tomorrow."
Odd nodded, breathing hard. "Thanks. Seriously. I know you didn't have to do this."
"You've earned it. You've trained hard. You deserve to go in prepared." Lucius picked up his towel. "Just remember—if you can't win, give up. There's no shame in acknowledging when you're outmatched. You've already done more than enough by making it this far."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I mean it, Odd. Your daughters need their father alive. Don't throw your life away for pride."
Odd met his eyes, something shifting in his expression—gratitude mixed with determination. "I understand. But I'm still going to give it everything I've got."
"I'd expect nothing less." Lucius headed toward the exit. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be brutal."
"Hey, King?"
Lucius paused at the door, looking back.
"Thanks. For everything. The training, the advice, all of it. Whatever happens tomorrow... I appreciate it."
Lucius nodded once, then left.
Odd stood alone in the training area for a moment longer, then gathered his things and headed back to his quarters.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
—
Next Day - 12:45 PM
The arena buzzed with anticipation.
Semifinals, Fight 2. The last match before the finals. After this, only two fighters would remain.
The cleanup crew had worked through the night, finally clearing enough of the crystalline debris to make the arena functional again. Some fragments still remained embedded in the sand—too deep to extract without damaging the pit floor—but the main combat area was clear.
In the commentary booth, Jamal and Haurang prepared for the broadcast.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are BACK!" Jamal's voice carried that familiar energy. "After an extended cleanup following yesterday's INSANE triple threat, we're ready for Semifinals Fight 2!"
"Odd versus Adam Mavrick," Haurang added, pulling up fighter statistics. "This is a significant tier mismatch. Odd is solidly tier 3 with optimal ability usage. Adam Mavrick is tier 4, pushing tier 5 in the right conditions. On paper, this shouldn't be competitive."
"On paper!" Jamal emphasized. "But Odd's shown heart throughout this tournament! Made it through that brutal fight with Son Tec where those mystery creatures nearly killed him!,won against reaper , Survived to semifinals! This guy doesn't quit!"
"Heart matters," Haurang agreed. "But against someone like Adam, who's won this tournament three times, who has over a decade of elite-level combat experience... heart may not be enough."
In the fighter section, Lucius sat in his usual spot. His ribs were still sore but manageable. Seung Hoon sat nearby, tablet in hand but inactive—no betting today.
"You think Odd's got a shot?" Seung asked quietly.
"No," Lucius replied simply.
"That direct, huh?"
"Adam's on a different level. Odd knows it. I know it. Anyone who's watched Adam fight knows it." Lucius's tone was matter-of-fact. "But Odd's not fighting to win. He's fighting to prove something to himself. To his daughters. That matters more to him than victory."
Seung looked at the empty arena floor. "Still seems like a waste. Getting beaten down when you know you can't win."
"Depends on your definition of waste." Lucius's eyes remained fixed on the pit below. "Sometimes showing you won't quit matters more than the outcome."
The Jumbotron activated, displaying fighter information:
ODD
ADAM MAVRICK
The stat comparison was stark.
"And here we go!" Jamal announced. "In the blue corner—the father fighting for his family, the underdog who's defied odds to make it this far—ODD!"
The blue entrance opened. Odd emerged, and the crowd gave him solid applause. Respect for making it this far. Appreciation for his determination.
He looked calm. Focused. Not confident—he knew what he was facing—but ready.
"And in the red corner—the three-time champion, the systematic destroyer, one of the most dangerous fighters in tournament history—ADAM MAVRICK!"
The red entrance opened, and Adam emerged.
Six-foot-two, powerfully built, moving with the controlled precision of a career fighter. His dark buzzed hair and hard features gave him the appearance of someone who'd seen too much violence and internalized it completely. His heavily scarred arms spoke of decades of combat.
The crowd's reaction was different—a mixture of awe and apprehension. Adam Mavrick was a known quantity. A proven killer.
Both fighters reached their positions.
Odd settled into his stance—mobile, defensive, ready to absorb and redirect. Everything Lucius had taught him.
Adam stood like a brick wall. Hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed, dark eyes fixed on Odd with the flat assessment of a predator evaluating prey.
"Fighters ready!" the announcement echoed.
Odd's breathing steadied. His hands shifted slightly, preparing.
Adam didn't move. Just watched.
"BEGIN!"
For two seconds, neither fighter moved.
Then Odd attacked.
He came forward with purpose, closing distance quickly. His approach was direct but controlled—not reckless, but committed.
Adam remained motionless, that brick-wall presence unchanged.
Odd came in close. Threw a simple straight punch aimed at Adam's face.
Adam's hand shot out to grab the incoming fist—
But Odd's gel ability activated. His body twisted mid-punch, the slippery coating letting him flow around Adam's grab attempt. He came with a cross instead, his other hand driving toward Adam's jaw.
And at the moment of impact, Odd hardened his fist.
POW.
The punch connected.
Adam's face turned to the side slightly from the force.
The arena went silent for half a heartbeat.
Then erupted.
"DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?!" Jamal's voice cracked with disbelief. "Did Odd just LAND A CLEAN HIT on Adam Mavrick?!"
"He did," Haurang confirmed, his analytical calm showing surprise. "Used the gel's slippery property to avoid the grab, then hardened at impact. Excellent technique application."
In the fighter section, Seung sat forward. "Holy shit, did you see—"
"I saw," Lucius said quietly. His expression showed the faintest hint of approval. 'Good. He listened. Applied the training.'
Odd didn't celebrate. He immediately backed away, creating distance, resuming his mobile defensive stance.
Adam turned to face him.
His expression hadn't changed. No anger. No surprise. Just that same flat assessment.
Then he moved.
He vanished.
One moment standing fifteen feet away, the next appearing directly behind Odd before Odd could react.
His hand came around in a backhand strike that caught Odd around his obliques with devastating force.
The impact sent Odd flying.
His body tumbled through the air like a ragdoll, spinning uncontrolled, before crashing into the electromagnetic barrier wall with a sickening BOOM.
Odd hit the barrier hard. His gel ability activated reflexively, softening his body to absorb and dissipate the impact force. It saved him from broken bones, but the collision still drove the air from his lungs.
Before he could even think to move, Adam was there.
A punch aimed directly at Odd's abdomen, moving with pile-driver force—
Odd rolled away.
The punch hit the barrier wall instead.
BOOM.
Shockwaves rippled across the electromagnetic field, the entire barrier system vibrating from the impact. The crowd felt it in their seats.
"JESUS!" Jamal shouted. "That punch would've killed him! Odd barely avoided it!"
Odd was on his knees, trying to get up, breathing hard.
Adam turned to face him once more. No wasted movement. Just systematic pursuit.
He dashed forward, appearing in front of Odd in a blur. His hand raised for an axe chop aimed at Odd's head—
Odd's hands shot up, catching the attack.
His arms shook with effort. The weight behind Adam's strike was immense. Odd's knees were pushed into the floor, legs sinking slightly into the sand.
He couldn't hold it. The force was too much. He was being crushed—
His gel ability activated. Made his body slippery. Let him slip out from under the attack, sliding away as Adam's hand crashed down into empty sand.
Odd rolled, came up in a crouch, looked for Adam—
Gone.
He looked left. Right. No sign.
Then up.
Adam was above him, having launched into the air. Coming down with an axe kick aimed at Odd's shoulder—
Odd didn't move.
The kick connected.
But at the moment of impact, Odd hardened himself completely. His entire body became rigid. His legs sank into the floor from the downward force.
And his hands grabbed Adam's thigh.
Using the momentum of Adam's own attack, Odd went forward. Drove his shoulder into Adam's center of mass. Used every ounce of strength to slam Adam's back into the floor.
BOOM.
The impact created a crater. Sand exploded outward.
Odd didn't hesitate. He followed up immediately, pinning Adam to the ground, and attacked.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
His fists came down in rapid succession, hardening at each impact. Targeting Adam's face, his torso, anywhere he could reach.
The crowd was on their feet.
"THIS IS INCREDIBLE!" Jamal screamed. "Odd's got him pinned! He's actually landing hits on Adam Mavrick!"
"Technique over power," Haurang observed. "He's using Adam's own momentum against him, then capitalizing during the brief vulnerability. Textbook fighting."
Seung grabbed Lucius's arm. "He's doing it! He's actually—"
"Wait," Lucius said quietly.
Adam's hand shot out.
Electricity crackled around his fingers, arcing in bright blue-white patterns.
Odd saw it just in time. He dove away, rolling backward, creating distance.
Adam rose from the crater.
And his entire body became covered in electric charge.
Not shooting electricity outward—he covered himself in it. The crackling energy formed a second skin, running across his arms, his torso, his legs. Arcing between contact points. Making him glow with lethal voltage.
"Adam's finally using his abilities!" Haurang called out. "This changes the dynamic completely!"
Adam moved forward. Not rushing. Deliberate. Slow. Like a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to go.
Then he vanished again.
Appeared directly in front of Odd with a punch that would've been instantly lethal—
Odd tried to harden in time—
Too slow.
The electrified fist grazed his chest as he twisted away. Even the glancing contact was devastating. The electricity arced into his body. His hardened defense offered no protection against electrical current.
Odd's chest opened. Blood splattered across the sand.
He stumbled backward, hand going to the wound. Not deep enough to be immediately fatal, but bad. Very bad.
Adam continued his advance. Closer. More deliberate. Each step measured.
The crowd's earlier excitement had shifted to apprehension. This wasn't competitive anymore. This was execution.
Odd backed away, trying to create distance, trying to think through the pain—
Adam vanished again.
Appeared right in front of him with another electrified punch aimed at his head—
Odd dodged.
Barely. By inches. The electricity crackling past his ear close enough to feel the heat.
What followed was systematic dismantling.
Adam attacked. Odd dodged. Countered when he had openings. His gel ability let him flow around some strikes. His hardening absorbed others. But the electricity made direct blocking impossible. Every contact point sent voltage through his body.
He was getting slower. The chest wound was bleeding freely. Exhaustion setting in. His defensive movements becoming more desperate, less controlled.
But he kept fighting.
Kept dodging. Kept trying to counter. Kept refusing to go down.
Adam's expression remained unchanged. Just that flat assessment. Watching. Evaluating.
Then something shifted in Adam's posture. A subtle change. Recognition.
He'd seen enough.
Odd threw a desperate hardened punch—
Adam caught his wrist mid-strike.
Then moved.
Speed that made his earlier attacks look slow. A blur of electrified violence.
His other fist drove into Odd's ribs. CRACK. Bones broke.
Knee to the abdomen. Air exploded from Odd's lungs.
Elbow to the shoulder. Dislocation.
Uppercut to the jaw. Odd's head snapped back, blood and spit flying.
Devastating combo. Nearly killing force behind every strike.
Odd's hardening was active but didn't matter. The impacts broke through. The electricity conducted through his defensive ability, frying nerves, disrupting muscle control.
He collapsed.
Tried to get up. Hands pushing against sand. Legs not responding properly.
Adam grabbed him by the neck.
Lifted him off the ground with one hand. Odd's feet dangled. His hands grabbed at Adam's wrist but couldn't break the grip.
Adam began to squeeze.
Slowly. Methodically.
Odd's hardening activated around his throat. The gel ability reinforcing. Trying to protect vital structures.
But Adam just squeezed harder.
The hardening began to crack.
Audible fractures. Like ice breaking under pressure. Odd's defensive ability failing centimeter by centimeter.
His face was turning red. Then purple. Oxygen cut off. Vision blurring.
But his eyes stayed open. Still conscious. Still refusing to give up.
The crowd had gone silent. This wasn't entertainment anymore. This was watching someone die.
In the fighter section, Seung's face had gone pale. "He needs to forfeit. Someone needs to—"
"He won't," Lucius said quietly. His hands were clenched on the armrest. 'Give up, Odd. You've proven enough. Give up.'
Adam's grip tightened further.
The cracks in Odd's hardening spread. Deeper. About to fail completely.
Odd's hands fell away from Adam's wrist. Going limp. Consciousness fading.
But he still tried to kick, he wasent giving up, and it seemed like he was about to die.
But then lucius stood.
His voice cut through the arena like a blade. Not shouting. Not loud. But carrying absolute authority that made everyone freeze.
"ENOUGH."
The temperature dropped.
Not metaphorically. The actual air temperature plummeted. Breath became visible. People's skin broke out in goosebumps.
But worse than the cold was the pressure.
It came down like a physical weight. Crushing. Oppressive. Making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything except experience pure, primal terror.
Everyone in the arena felt it.
Death was staring at them.
Not metaphorical death. Not the idea of death. Actual death—ancient, absolute, inevitable—looking directly into their eyes and making them understand exactly how fragile they were. How easily they could be ended.
The prey instinct in every human brain screamed RUN.
But nobody could move.
In the commentary booth, Jamal's hand had frozen on his microphone. His mouth was open but no sound came out. His entire body locked up.
Haurang's analytical mind tried to process what was happening, but all conscious thought had shut down. Only the base animal brain remained, screaming in terror.
In the fighter section, Seung had gone completely white. His hands gripped his seat so hard his knuckles were bloodless.
In the hidden observation room, Hannah's fingers had stopped tapping. Her entire body was rigid. The fear bypassed everything—her training, her composure —and struck directly at her core survival instinct.
Charlotte stood frozen beside her, tablet forgotten, barely able to process what she was feeling.
In a separate booth, alone, a shadowy figure sat forward.
The fear touched him too. Everyone felt it, no exceptions.
But where others experienced terror, he felt something else.
Excitement.
A slow grin spread across his face.
He stood, straightened his suit, and walked out of the booth without a word.
On the arena floor, Adam's grip on Odd's throat had loosened involuntarily.
His eyes—dark and flat, the eyes of someone who'd killed dozens of people without flinching—were wide. Actually wide.
He was afraid.
Genuinely, completely, undeniably afraid.
His body had released Odd without conscious decision. Pure survival instinct overriding combat training. His throat worked, trying to swallow. Trying to process what was happening.
He couldn't look away from Lucius.
Lucius stood in the fighter section, looking down at the arena floor. His royal blue eyes were fixed on Adam with absolute focus.
His voice came again. Still not shouting. Still carrying that terrible authority.
"If you kill him, you will die by these hands. Let him live, and I forfeit our match."
Not a threat. A statement of fact. Absolute certainty delivered with the weight of an avalanche.
Adam wanted to respond. Wanted to argue. Wanted to do anything except stand there feeling this impossible terror.
But his voice wouldn't work. His body wouldn't respond. Every instinct screamed that moving would mean death.
Odd dropped from Adam's hand.
Collapsed to the sand, unconscious but alive.
Adam stood there, breathing hard, staring at Lucius. His hands were shaking. Actually shaking.
He'd faced death before. Multiple times. Had killed people. Had been nearly killed himself.
This was different.
This was something beyond human. Beyond normal threat assessment. This was absolute certainty of annihilation if he made the wrong move.
The pressure lifted.
Suddenly. Completely.
The temperature returned to normal. The crushing weight disappeared. The feeling of death's gaze moved away.
Lucius turned and walked toward the fighter section exit.
Not hurried. Not slow. Just walking. His expression was neutral again, as if nothing had happened.
The arena remained silent.
Then sound returned all at once—gasps, shouts, confusion, people trying to process what they'd just experienced.
"What—" Jamal's voice was shaky. "What the hell was that?"
Haurang couldn't answer. His hands were trembling.
Medical personnel rushed onto the field toward Odd, who was still on the sand, neck bruised but breathing.
Adam stood motionless, still staring at where Lucius had been. His hands slowly stopped shaking. His senses gradually returned.
And with them, realization.
He'd been afraid. Genuinely terrified. Had released Odd involuntarily.
Had been completely dominated without a single strike being thrown.
His jaw clenched.
By the time he turned to look for Lucius, the fighter section was empty. Lucius was already gone.
—
TO BE CONTINUED