Trainer Haud struck his heavy staff against the ground, making the sand tremble as he announced the start of the second match:
"The next fight… Eil Ren versus Shala Ren. Step forward!"
His voice was loud enough to make dozens of clan members turn toward the arena the moment they heard those two names together. Unlike Eil's first fight, this one was truly worth watching.
Eil advanced with steady steps toward the center of the arena, his breathing even, his shoulders relaxed—despite his body still reacting internally to the strain of his first round. As for Asher, he had quietly withdrawn into the back of his shared mind, giving Eil full control.
Eil raised his hands, taking a simple fighting stance. Nothing flashy—yet stable, balanced… calm.
A few meters away, Shala Ren stood as if she were part of the earth itself—solid, unmoving, and her silence heavier than many spoken words. She was the daughter of the clan's only living ancestor and his direct disciple. Everyone knew she was the number one talent of the third generation.
The absolute prodigy.
She didn't move.
Didn't raise her hand.
Didn't show any intention to attack.
She simply watched Eil.
Her green eyes followed every motion he made—how he lifted his arm, the small tilt of his shoulder, even the faint tremble in his left toe from exhaustion.
(Incredible…) Eil thought as he swallowed hard.
Inside his mind, Asher's cool voice responded:
(Don't move. She's trying to read your rhythm. If you attack first, she'll punish you with something extremely unpleasant.)
(I'm nervous, man!)
(Me too… I'm just good at hiding it.)
(Lucky you…)
Seconds of charged silence passed. A gentle breeze swept across the sand, lifting a few grains around their feet, as though the arena itself were holding its breath.
Shala was the first to speak.
"You've changed, Eil… you're no longer the child who cried every time he fell."
Her tone held no mockery—just a factual statement. Which somehow made it heavier.
Then she gave the faintest smile.
"That makes fighting you… more fun."
And in the next instant—she vanished.
Or rather… she moved so fast that vanishing seemed reasonable. Two rapid steps brought her straight toward Eil, her fist shooting for his shoulder like an arrow.
Eil raised his arm at the last moment—
Shhhk!
A small spark snapped from the clash of their energies.
Shala stepped back half a pace, raising an eyebrow.
One clan member whispered:
"He blocked it?"
Another replied in disbelief:
"She hit with at least forty percent…!"
Trainer Haud folded his arms silently, his sharp eyes missing nothing.
Shala attacked again.
This time, a barrage of punches—right, left, high, low—and Eil had to block, maneuver, or take the blows. Her fists were so fast the air itself seemed to split around them.
Eil blocked one—
Dodged the second—
The third struck his shoulder—
He bent under the fourth.
But clearly… she was better at blending her energy with her body. Her flow was smoother, her spiritual rhythm far more refined.
(Eil… relax your tension… breathe deeply.) Asher instructed.
(She's trying to kill me!)
(She's just trying to beat you. She'll kill you later if you break her nose.)
(ASHER!!!)
(Wrap the energy around your arms only—not your whole body. If you release everything, we'll expose too much…)
Eil inhaled deeply, focusing his energy where Asher directed.
Suddenly, a faint resonance shimmered around his forearms… as if the air itself grew heavier.
When his fist collided with hers again—
BOOM!
The impact rang louder, and the sand trembled beneath them.
Shala actually stepped back this time. She stared at Eil for two seconds, then said:
"Good… very good."
It was genuine admiration—without a hint of flattery.
But she wasn't the type to retreat out of awe.
She tightened her right fist, wrapped her body with concentrated energy… and dashed forward at double speed.
Eil lifted his arms to block—
Her punch struck him hard enough to push him half a meter back.
Then another blow to his shoulder—bak!
And a third toward his jaw—he narrowly dodged it.
Sweat streamed down Eil's neck; his breathing quickened.
But his eyes didn't leave her for a moment.
The spectators around the arena erupted in whispers:
"They're evenly matched!"
"Is that really Eil Ren?"
"No way… Shala has never taken this long with anyone!"
But the truth was far from equal.
Eil was fighting with everything he had, while Shala… was using sixty percent at most.
(Eil… listen carefully.) Asher's voice turned unusually firm.
(You've proven your strength. That's enough. If you keep this up, they'll start asking questions we don't want to answer.)
(You want me to—?)
(Yes. You're going to lose… slowly. And convincingly.)
Eil exhaled deeply.
(Alright… I'll do it.)
In the following exchange…
His defense grew slightly slower.
His steps less steady.
His breathing more strained.
Shala raised an eyebrow—perhaps she noticed—but brushed it aside. She likely assumed fatigue was finally catching up.
She lunged—
BOOF!
Her fist slammed into his right shoulder, making him stumble.
Some clan members gasped aloud.
Eil tried attacking again, but his movements now felt heavy. Shala read the weakness effortlessly and exploited an opening—
A sharp blow to his ribs.
"Agh!" he cried out.
(Perfect… one more step.) Asher whispered.
Eil rose slowly, lifting his left fist shakily, as though barely able to continue.
Another strike from Shala landed on his shoulder—he allowed himself to react more dramatically this time.
Then—
A weakened knee…
A slip in the sand…
And he fell to one knee.
Haud raised his staff instantly.
"Stop!"
Shala lifted her hand, expecting the verdict.
"The winner… Shala Ren!" the trainer announced firmly.
Eil collapsed onto the sand, breathing heavily, while Shala approached him and extended her hand.
"You were strong, Eil. Not like last year," she said sincerely.
He took her hand and stood.
"And you… are still as annoying as ever."
She raised an eyebrow, but her smile remained.
"Seems you haven't changed that much after all."
She walked back to her place with composed confidence.
Eil returned to stand with the other clan members, sweat dripping from his chin, yet his conscience at ease.
Inside him, Asher said:
(Well done, Eil. A beautiful loss… convincing… and very useful.)
(It still bothers me…)
(I know… but winning would've drawn far more attention than we can afford right now.)
Eil looked toward the arena. The next round had already begun, and Shala was wiping the floor with anyone who stepped up.
One walked in confidently… and was carried out.
Another tried attacking first… and ended up flying out of the arena.
Meanwhile, Asher…
Was eating popcorn.
Yes—popcorn.
No one knew where he got it from.
Not even Eil could comprehend it.
(Where did you—?) Eil asked, stunned.
(Shhh… this is the best part. That boy is going to get launched in two seconds.)
And indeed—two seconds later—the boy soared out of the ring.
Eil rolled his eyes hard, then sat down to wait for the session to end, while Asher enjoyed the scene like he was watching a theatre show.
And so…
One of the most exciting training days came to an end.