Lila heard her name before she felt her legs move.
"Match Four—Lila Butters of Halo vs Timmy of Tropic Thunder. Competitors to the Mercy Deck."
The tunnel lights shifted green. The roar of the bowl rolled in like a wave.
"Okay—yep—time to go." She slapped her cheeks twice. "C'mon, Butters. Water Queen time."
Kai and Aria bumped her fists on the way past.
"You got this," Kai said.
"Win fast," Aria grinned. "I want dessert."
Lila laughed, but her fingers shook a little on her water staff as she jogged down the tunnel.
The light at the end exploded into color.
Then sound.
The moment her boot hit Mercy Deck, the Magnara Grand Amphistad screamed her name. Two hundred twenty thousand people, all at once. Some chanting "LI-LA! LI-LA!" Some just howling.
Heat. Lights. Colos-Lens halo showing her ten stories tall over her own head.
She couldn't hear her own breath.
Oh. This is the world stage.
Her heart kicked faster. She felt very small and very seen at the same time. Every drill in Royal Aqua training grounds , every night she'd fallen asleep on a mat with her mom yelling, "Again!" in her dreams—it all stacked on her shoulders, heavy and right.
Don't trip, don't trip, don't—
She didn't trip. She walked to center, staff resting across her shoulders like it belonged there.
Up in a skybox rimmed with soft blue wardlight, a woman in an immaculate dark coat, hair the same gold as Lila's but cut sharp, leaned on the rail.
Laila "Water Demon" Butters watched her daughter with a face that looked calm from far away and anything but up close.
"I know that aura," she said quietly.
Light brushed the glass as someone stepped up beside her, presence warm and steady.
"Hard to miss," William Lockhart said.
Laila didn't turn right away. "Tch. I could smell the holy horse-boy from the hallway."
William huffed. "I bathed before I came. That's the thanks I get?"
She glanced over, mouth tugging. "You still smell like stables and Light plates. Some brands don't wash off."
"Coming from 'Water Demon,' I'll take that as a compliment."
Their shoulders bumped once—easy, familiar—and then both of them looked back down at the field.
"She's really out there," William said. "Your kid. In this mess."
Laila's fingers tightened on the rail for a breath before she relaxed them. "She insisted," she said. "Wouldn't shut up about standing where we stood. You know how Elric's students get."
A corner of William's mouth lifted. "Yeah. I remember."
"Don't you dare get sentimental on me," Laila added, eyes still on Lila. "Just watch her work."
"Wouldn't miss it," he said, voice gone softer around the edges. "Pretty sure Elric's watching, wherever he is."
"Then he can grade her later," Laila muttered. "Right now, I'm watching for opening."
Across from Lila, Timmy of Tropic Thunder sauntered out like the arena belonged to him.
Shorter than Carlos. Leaner. Brown skin, messy dark hair, Tropic Thunder colors hanging loose. His jacket wriggled at the seams like something was crawling under it.
The crowd's cheer dipped into a weird little ripple when he walked. Not boos. Not cheers. Just...uneasy noise.
He rolled his shoulders, looked Lila over once, then grinned too big.
"So you're the healer," he said. Voice light, almost bored. "The one hiding behind the Black Clan and the monk."
Lila's smile flattened. "I'm the one who's gonna make you take a nap. You must be new."
Timmy chuckled. "Cute." He tapped the side of his neck, where a faint scar ran under his collar. "Couple days ago, on the Aratrum? I fought your shadow boy. Rin Kairo. Cut him up and tossed him off the rail. He only lived 'cause they dragged him out of the clouds."
Lila blinked.
Couple days ago? She'd just watched Rin carve a Britannian prettyboy in half-speed.
Liar, she thought.
Her knuckles tightened on the staff.
"...Funny," she said, voice calm in that not-actually-calm way. "I just saw him walk off his match. You must mix up your fairy tales."
He shrugged. "Maybe I finished him and they patched him. Maybe I was being nice then." His grin sharpened. "My bugs liked his blood, though."
Something chitined scratched against his jacket from the inside, like a hundred tiny legs adjusting.
The hair on Lila's arms stood up.
Timmy's grin widened. "You won't even make it that far. You can't touch me. Not with my friends hungry."
Lila's playful air dropped off like a coat.
Her shoulders squared. Her eyes cooled.
"I'll make you regret saying that," she said, voice suddenly very small and very sharp. "Every word."
He laughed and spread his arms. "If you can get through my swarm, healer girl, I'll be impressed."
At center, Hillary Black raised his hand. His gold-rank badge winked in the light.
"Field change—swamp set," he called toward the Oath Dais. "Anchors ready."
The Oathmaster lifted two fingers.
"Granted."
The Mercy Deck shuddered.
Lines of faint sigil light raced out from the Engine Spine, webbing under Lila's boots, under Timmy's. The clean stone of the arena darkened, softened.
Water bled up through invisible seams.
The ground sagged, then reshaped—stone splitting into mud islands and tangled root clumps, slick black water filling channels between them. In seconds the flat deck became a swamp forest: twisted trees reared from the muck, bark slick and dark; hanging moss dripped from invisible rafters; pale mist rolled in low, swallowing ankles.
The crowd roared at the shift like Magnara's team had just scored.
"Yo, look at that—"
"Swamp set!"
"Bad terrain for lightning, perfect for—oh, that healer's in her element—"
A fat insect buzzed past Lila's ear and vanished into the fake canopy. The smell of wet rot and standing water rushed up, so real it stabbed.
On the Dais, the Oathmaster watched the new battlefield settle, expression somewhere between priest and showman.
His voice slid out over the sound-net, smooth and deep.
"Another spectacle for Magnara," he said. "Observe, citizens. Terrain bends, Let us see which of these two can adapt, improvise, and endure. Let us see if they have what it takes...to call themselves Seekers."
Hillary Black dropped his hand between them.
"Match Four," he said. "Begin."