The tournament did not stop.
Despite Isaac's defeat.
Despite the President's intervention.
Despite the whispers already rippling through the Academy like an uncontrollable wave…
Rules were rules.
And the tournament had to go on.
Diopha's Withdrawal
In a secondary chamber of the Academy, Diopha sat alone.
Seated.
Back straight.
Breathing slow and controlled.
Before him, a translucent window opened in silence.
[Daily Quest — Body & Foundations]
Objectives:
• 10,000 controlled squats
• 5,000 slow strikes (perfect alignment)
• 3 hours of bodily meditation
• 1 hour of post-combat analysis
Reward:
• Permanent physical reinforcement (minor)
• Increased host-body stability
Diopha let out a soft sigh.
"Still just as sadistic…"
But he stood up.
Without hesitation.
He knew why he was doing this.
Not to run.
Not out of weakness.
Because fighting his friends made no sense.
Milim.
Douriel.
They weren't obstacles.
They were part of his path.
And more than that…
He felt something else calling him.
A deeper discipline.
A foundation.
The power he wielded didn't just need to be endured.
It needed to be earned.
Mini Zenkai floated in the corner of the room, silent.
No instructions.
No judgment.
Just a presence, watching.
The Arena — A New Phase
In the central arena, the atmosphere had changed.
Gone was the raw excitement of the early rounds.
What remained was focus.
The remaining participants now understood one thing:
The Academy's true level had just been revealed.
And it was terrifying.
Matches followed one another.
Some were swift.
Others brutal.
A few highly technical.
But two names kept surfacing in hushed murmurs.
Milim.
Douriel.
Milim — Reader of Kings
Milim stepped onto the field without arrogance.
A closed book in her hand.
Not as a weapon.
As a symbol.
When the match began, her aura shifted.
Not crushing.
Commanding.
Each step she took seemed to align the space around her.
Her movements were precise—almost regal.
She didn't force anything.
She commanded, unconsciously.
Her opponent launched a frontal attack.
A mistake.
Milim simply raised her hand.
The ground subtly rose beneath her foot, redirecting the strike just enough to make it meaningless.
"Too direct…" she murmured.
A moment later, the fight was over.
No severe injuries.
No unnecessary violence.
Just a clean victory.
In the stands, some shuddered.
"She still hasn't shown anything…"
"It's like she's waiting for something."
Douriel — The Absolute Fist
Douriel was the complete opposite.
No book.
No speeches.
Just his fists.
When he entered the arena, he calmly removed his jacket.
"Let's go."
His opponent used magic.
A mistake.
Douriel advanced.
Every strike he threw corrected the one before it.
Not stronger.
More precise.
His movements weren't tied to any single style.
They were the result of thousands of styles—absorbed, refined, and reduced to their essence.
One strike.
Then another.
And finally—
A perfect blow.
The opponent collapsed, unable to continue.
Douriel exhaled slowly.
"…Still not enough."
The Final Announced
The announcement echoed through the arena.
"Final match of the inter-class tournament!"
"Milim versus Douriel!"
A respectful silence followed.
No cheers.
No taunts.
Everyone understood.
This fight would be different.
In the stands, Diopha watched from afar, seated apart, arms resting on his knees.
He had just completed his first set of quests.
His body burned.
Yet he smiled.
"You've grown…"
Mini Zenkai floated a little higher.
Still silent.
But attentive.
Before the Clash
Milim and Douriel faced each other just before entering.
"No holding back?" Milim asked.
"None," Douriel replied.
A brief silence.
Then a shared smile.
"Let him watch," Milim said.
"Always," Douriel answered.
Somewhere, Diopha closed his eyes.
The tournament continued.
But he…
had chosen a different battlefield.
End of Chapter 13
Was stepping aside an act of restraint… or the first move toward something far greater? What do you think Diopha is truly preparing for?