**Riyan's POV**
The arena attendants were still cleaning scorch marks from Ava's flames when the next match was announced. I settled into my seat in the participants' viewing area, eyes fixed on the battlefield below.
Alex Karots versus Raven Zeus.
Protagonist versus anti-villainess. Destined rival versus daughter of the Principal. This was one of those matchups that would define power hierarchies for the entire first year.
Alex emerged first—blue hair catching the light, those distinctive bluish-white eyes scanning the arena with surprising calm for someone about to face a monster. He looked exactly like what he was: a protagonist. Clean-cut features, determined expression, that indefinable quality that made people want to root for him.
I hated it on principle.
Raven appeared from the opposite entrance, and the crowd's energy shifted immediately. She moved with the casual confidence of someone who'd never truly doubted their own victory. Her grayish-white hair fell loose around her shoulders today, and those golden eyes held the bored expression of a predator facing prey that might—*might*—provide a moment's entertainment.
Everything about her screamed superiority. The way she walked, the tilt of her head, even her breathing seemed calculated to project absolute dominance.
"You may begin when ready," the referee announced, stepping back behind protective barriers.
Alex drew his sword—a clean motion, economy of movement suggesting formal training. The blade sang as it left its sheath, already beginning to glow with channeled mana.
Raven didn't draw her weapon. She simply stood there, one hand resting casually on her sword's hilt. "Whenever you're ready."
The dismissiveness in her tone would have broken lesser fighters' composure. Alex, to his credit, merely smiled—that bright, protagonist smile that promised he'd never give up no matter the odds.
Then he attacked.
---
His opening strike was textbook perfect—a diagonal slash augmented with water magic that would overwhelm most defenses through sheer volume. Water and blade became one, the technique creating a pressurized edge that could cut through reinforced steel.
Raven's blade flickered.
That was all—just a flicker of movement almost too fast to track. Alex's attack was redirected downward, his stance broken, and suddenly Raven's sword was pressing against his throat.
She pulled back, returning to her ready position. "Again."
Alex's shocked expression lasted only a moment before transforming into renewed determination. *Of course,* I thought. *Protagonists don't learn from near-death experiences—they get excited by them.*
He attacked again, this time with more complexity. His sword wove patterns in the air, each strike flowing into the next, creating a continuous offensive that left no obvious openings. The technique was impressive—clearly something he'd practiced for countless hours.
Raven blocked every strike with minimal movement, her blade moving only as much as absolutely necessary. She wasn't even trying to counter-attack, just demonstrating the fundamental gap between them.
"Ancestral Rees Sword Art—Second Form: Preach!"
Holy light erupted along Alex's blade as he deployed one of his signature techniques. The attack came from three angles simultaneously—a clever use of light refraction to create illusory strikes alongside the real one.
Raven's response was almost lazy. "Demonic Sword Formation Art—First Formation: Defensive Form."
Her stance shifted, weight lowering, and her blade became a barrier that didn't just block—it *absorbed*. Each of Alex's strikes hit that defense and simply stopped, all momentum nullified. The rebound force sent him stumbling backward, his grip on his sword wavering.
My eyes narrowed with interest. *Demonic Sword Formation Art. One of her father's signature techniques.*
The art had seven formations, each representing a different combat philosophy. I'd read about it in the novel but seeing it executed was something else entirely. The way she transitioned between defensive postures, how the technique seemed to predict attacks before they fully formed...
*I need to learn that,* I decided. *That would complement my spear techniques perfectly.*
Alex refused to give up. His attacks continued, each one showing slight variations as he tried to probe for weaknesses. His determination was admirable, even if it was ultimately futile.
The crowd was eating it up—the underdog protagonist battling against overwhelming odds. They wanted to see him succeed, to witness the miracle comeback.
They were going to be disappointed.
Raven's bored expression finally shifted. Not to interest, exactly, but to the decision that playtime was over.
"Demonic Blood Sword Art—Ninth Form: Sickly Wrath."
The technique name was deceptive. Nothing about the attack was sickly—it was pure, concentrated violence given form. Her blade cut through the air, and reality itself seemed to protest, dark energy trailing in the weapon's wake.
Alex's eyes widened. He threw everything into defense, holy magic erupting around him in a protective barrier that shone like a miniature sun.
The barrier shattered on impact.
Not slowly, not with dramatic cracks spreading across its surface. It simply *broke*, and Raven's strike continued through, catching Alex across the chest with the flat of her blade and sending him flying across the arena.
He hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and didn't get up.
"Winner: Raven Zeus!"
The crowd erupted—half cheering for Raven's dominance, half sympathizing with Alex's valiant effort. Medical staff rushed to his unconscious form, checking for serious injuries while praise for both fighters echoed through the Colosseum.
I leaned back in my seat, processing what I'd witnessed.
Alex had been outmatched from the start. Raven was a full rank above him—C+ versus his C—and had years of elite training under the Principal's direct supervision. But what struck me was how *easily* she'd won. She'd barely used any of her real arsenal.
No Corrupted Thunder Art. No eighth or tenth forms of her sword techniques. Nothing that approached her actual limits.
*She's been holding back against everyone,* I realized. *Saving her true strength for when it actually matters.*
The thought was both frustrating and exhilarating. When we eventually fought—and we would, that much was certain—she wouldn't be holding back. I'd face the real Raven Zeus, the anti-villainess who could stand toe-to-toe with the protagonist even with all his plot armor.
"Truly a cockroach-like existence," I muttered, watching medics help Alex to his feet. Even unconscious and defeated, he'd left an impression. The crowd loved him. They *wanted* him to succeed.
That was the protagonist's real power—not his techniques or his holy affinity, but his ability to make people believe in him.
Well, belief wouldn't save him from what was coming.
The final semifinal match was announced: Noha Kai versus Yanel Gates.
I'd face the winner in my next match. Time to scout the competition.
---
Noha Kai was everything the phrase "battle freak" suggested. She stood in the arena with barely contained excitement, her entire body practically vibrating with anticipation. Short-cropped red hair, scars visible on her exposed arms, and a smile that was equal parts joy and violence.
She fought with her fists and feet—no weapons, just pure martial arts augmented with aura. Her Martial Prodigy talent meant she could learn and integrate techniques with frightening speed, creating a fighting style uniquely her own.
Yanel Gates, by contrast, was methodical and calm. His close-combat talent manifested differently—perfect timing, flawless positioning, the ability to end fights with minimal wasted motion. Where Noha was a whirlwind, Yanel was a scalpel.
Their match was brutal and beautiful in equal measure. Noha's aggressive rushdowns met Yanel's precise counters, creating a chess match played at superhuman speeds. Each exchange left both fighters slightly more battered, neither willing to yield an inch.
In the end, Noha's raw enthusiasm overwhelmed Yanel's calculated defense. She caught him with a spinning kick that carried enough force to crack the arena floor, and he went down hard.
"Winner: Noha Kai!"
She helped him up immediately, grinning and already chattering about the techniques he'd used and how much fun the fight had been. Despite being injured herself, her first concern was complimenting her opponent's skill.
*Sick battle freak indeed,* I thought, but not without respect. Noha lived for combat in a way that was almost pure. No ulterior motives, no political calculations—just the joy of testing herself against worthy opponents.
Which meant she'd come at me with everything she had.
Perfect.
---
The announcement echoed through the Colosseum: "Next match: Unknown versus Noha Kai!"
I stood, rolling my shoulders to loosen tension. This would be different from fighting Ava. My cousin had technique and power, but she fought with noble restraint, always aware of appearances and reputation.
Noha? Noha would try to break me, and she'd smile the entire time.
As I walked toward the arena entrance, I caught Raven watching me from across the viewing area. Those golden eyes held a promise—*Soon. We'll settle things soon.*
I nodded slightly, acknowledging the unspoken challenge.
But first, I had a battle maniac to deal with.
"Let's defeat that future sick battle freak," I muttered, stepping into the light of the arena.
The crowd's roar washed over me as I emerged, mask still firmly in place. Noha was already waiting, bouncing on her feet like a boxer before the bell.
Her grin widened when she saw me. "Finally! Everyone else was boring, but you? You took down the Asura Princess! This is gonna be FUN!"
The referee raised his hand. "Combatants ready?"
I settled into my stance, spear materializing in my hands. Dark Spirit Spear Art pulsed through my mind, techniques aligning with battle instinct.
Noha's aura flared, red and eager. "Let's GO!"
"BEGIN!"
---
**Current Tournament Standings:**
**Finals Bracket:**
- Raven Zeus (Defeated Livia Descartes, then defeated Alex Karots)
- Unknown/Riyan vs Noha Kai (Current Match)
The Ranking Battle had reached its critical phase. One more victory, and I'd face Raven for first place.
One more victory, and I could execute my plan perfectly—reveal my identity at the peak moment, cement my dominance, and watch the protagonist's confidence shatter.
But first, I had to survive a battle maniac who lived for moments exactly like this.
*Let's see what you've got, Noha Kai.*