Évra steps forward.
Her footsteps are heavy, but that's not what freezes the air.
It's the invisible electricity.
That absurd shiver running down your spine when your body already knows what your mind refuses to admit.
She's not a teacher.
She's a storm.
Valie warned me: today would be more physical.
I should've run.
I should've listened to that thing deep inside me screaming at me to escape.
But I'm still here.
Évra's arms change.
Tighten. Swell.
Her flesh becomes mass, strength—living weapons.
She speaks.
"Here is my first power: Gorilla Arms. Your goal is simple. Survive."
I swallow.
And I'm not the only one.
One step back.
Uncontrolled.
It isn't cowardice—
it's a memory.
The memory of death. Of her eyes.
The day she broke me.
Then Aris steps forward.
Straight. Determined.
"I fully intend to return the favor."
He isn't unafraid—
he's crushing his fear before it can paralyze him.
Évra bursts into laughter.
"Well, well! Motivated, aren't we? The other two weaklings, take notes. You won't survive by running away. You'll need determination, audacity, discipline. And above all… desire. The desire to live."
I clench my teeth.
No way I stay in the background.
I summon a gun.
Shoot.
The bullets crack through the air—
and bounce off her.
She doesn't even flinch.
Great. I look like an idiot.
I toss the weapon aside.
Pointless. Ridiculous.
Aris moves.
No—
he explodes.
He shoots forward like a shockwave.
An impact tears through the air in front of me.
Évra's body is hurled against the Coliseum wall.
I blink. Too slow.
He hit her. Hard. Too hard.
But his body tenses, trembles.
I can feel him wavering.
I walk toward him.
"Well done, man. I'd love to punch her too."
He doesn't look at me.
Only mutters:
"The gap between her and me… is still enormous. Damn it."
I laugh internally.
My turn. My moment.
I imagine something huge—
a real weapon.
A rocket launcher appears in my hands.
I lift it.
Aim at where Évra crashed.
Fire.
BOOM—an explosion.
BOOM—another.
BOOM—a third one, for style.
Silence.
A voice behind me:
"Bee stings? Your little sack was more impressive."
I turn.
Évra.
Unharmed.
Almost amused.
I hate this woman.
I gather my energy. Strike—
a blow to her ribs.
She doesn't react.
"That's it? Let me show you what a real attack looks like."
Her fist falls.
Not a fist.
A mountain.
A building.
The whole world crashing down onto my skull.
I slam into the ground.
I bleed.
My head rings.
I want to sleep.
To flee.
But I stand. Slowly.
Because I have one rule:
I have to live.
Her smile widens.
"Tenacious. A real cockroach. But you're at your limit."
She turns toward Aris.
He hits her.
One punch. Two. Three.
Massive blows.
The hits echo across the arena.
Évra withstands them.
Doesn't move.
He is the one who falls.
"You can imitate my strength three times over. But it still isn't enough to defeat me."
She walks toward me again.
But a red shadow passes me.
Fortuna.
Calm.
Distant.
She steps forward.
"Évra. Shall we play?"
Silence.
Évra smiles. Slowly.
Like a beast being offered a toy.
Then she laughs—
sharp and uncontrollable.
"Let's see what you can do… let's play. AHAHAHAHA!"
A wave ripples across the arena.
Space trembles.
A giant die appears.
One meter tall.
Steel-bright surface.
Each face gleaming like a sharpened blade.
Fortuna disappears—
not literally,
but as a presence.
Her aura quiets.
Her gestures become law.
She tilts her head.
"Your turn."
Évra steps forward.
Touches the die.
It shoots into the air—
spinning, wild, unstable, uncontrollable.
"Stop."
The die falls.
Hits the ground with a sharp thud.
Five.
Fortuna doesn't move.
She simply raises her hand.
Effortless.
Natural.
Absolute.
"Stop."
Six.
A flicker crosses Évra's eyes.
A flash of clarity—
or anger—
maybe both.
"And now?"
Fortuna moves.
Raises her hand.
And strikes.
A slap.
Nothing more.
But Évra staggers—
one step back.
Instinct betrayed.
Myth fractured.
Fortuna murmurs, soft as a breath:
"If I win the game… I win the fight."