Oniu, Drei, Nixxin, and Kael were eating at the back of a bus when a teacher came inside.
"You probably already know why you're here, but in case you don't, we're having a scrim with another school in PC B. I suggest you keep your powers hidden before the tournament. Good luck, guys."
Drei spoke while eating mac and cheese. "Oniu, could you tell us what your magic is?"
Oniu took a sip of his coffee. "Well, I'm not really good with it yet."
Kael stood up and said, "That's okay. This is just a scrim."
Nixxin stopped eating and said, "It's scrim, pal."
Oniu continued, "My magic comes from a clan, but I still don't know which one. It's about buffing, healing, and nerfing using arrows or potions. But in this kind of fight, it's better to use arrows since they're faster."
Drei leaned back in his seat. "The teacher said to hide our powers, so I think it's better if you don't use healing or buffing. Just focus on nerfing the enemy. And you two, don't go all out yet. Save your strength for the finals. I'll focus on close combat with my dagger. Maybe I'll only use my skill when we're near the top of the bracket."
Nixxin nodded. "You're right, but we're not sure if those guys will hold back too."
Oniu replied, "Don't worry. I'll spam nerfs on them so they're forced to use their skills."
Kael lay back on his seat while drinking juice. "Drei, is your name really just Drei, or do you have other names? Because Drei sounds like dry. It even rhymes with it."
Drei got annoyed. "If you ask something that dumb again, your body will be dry."
When they arrived at the arena, they saw where the first match would take place. It was huge, just like the training grounds they were used to. The four of them walked behind three teachers.
Drei looked back. "Oniu, hurry up. What are you doing?"
Oniu ran toward him. "Sorry, I was taking pictures of the arena and writing things down."
Drei glanced at the pictures. "Finish that after the match. We still have to watch scrim records later. There are eighty groups participating, and everything is recorded. That means we'll be watching thirty nine groups later. Take notes while watching."
They stopped walking when they saw the other school's participants. Most of them looked cocky, except for one. At that moment, they realized that guy was probably the carry of the group.
As the game started, they were amazed by how large the area was. The main tower had a whole village inside it, with people training and preparing for battle. Everyone bought storage bags.
Drei broke a branch from a tree and handed it to Oniu. Oniu used it to draw a map on the ground.
"This is a four lane match," Oniu said. "That means each of us takes a lane. We fight individually at first. The real match begins in the late game."
Kael ran off to the second lane. Nixxin went to the third. Drei took the first. Oniu stayed in the fourth.
When Nixxin reached the first tower of his lane, he slowed his pace, letting his steps grow quieter as he approached the battlefield ahead.
The soldiers moved past him in steady lines, their armor clinking softly with every step. Some of them spoke in low voices, others laughed nervously, and a few turned back as if they were saying goodbye to something behind them. It felt too real.
Nixxin rolled his neck once, then shifted his weight forward.
At the center stretch of the lane, the terrain opened into a wide grassland. Blades of grass bent under marching feet as two groups of soldiers collided. Metal struck metal. Bodies moved in waves.
Then he saw him.
The same opponent from earlier.
The man stood a few meters ahead, his sword angled downward in one hand. His posture looked loose, almost careless, but his feet were planted firmly, balanced. His head tilted slightly, eyes locked onto Nixxin.
Nixxin inhaled slowly, lowering his center of gravity.
Then he burst forward.
His right foot slammed into the ground, pushing him ahead with force. His body leaned into the movement, arms tight, shoulders aligned. Each step accelerated him faster until the distance between them collapsed in seconds.
He twisted his hips and drove his fist forward.
The punch cut through the air in a straight line, fast and heavy.
The enemy reacted instantly.
The sword snapped upward, rotating into position with precise timing. The flat of the blade met Nixxin's fist.
Clang.
The impact echoed sharply.
The force traveled through Nixxin's knuckles, up his arm, into his shoulder. His body tightened on contact, muscles locking for a split second as his stance absorbed the recoil.
A visible dent marked the sword.
Nixxin pushed off the blade and slid backward, his feet dragging slightly against the ground as he reset his distance. His breathing stayed steady. His eyes stayed locked.
Then—
Something pulled him.
Not physically.
It felt like his body was being snapped backward along an invisible thread.
In an instant, his posture changed.
His feet returned to the exact position they were in the moment his fist struck the sword. His arm snapped back into extension, knuckles pressed against the same dented spot on the blade. Even the tension in his muscles returned to that exact instant.
His eyes widened.
"What—"
Before he could finish the thought, the enemy moved.
A sharp kick drove into Nixxin's side.
Because of his reset stance, his body was completely open.
The impact folded him slightly, lifting him off his footing and throwing him backward. He hit the ground hard, sliding across the grass.
Nixxin coughed, air escaping his lungs as he forced himself up.
He stepped forward again—
And it happened again.
Snap.
His body rewound to that same exact posture.
Fist against sword. Feet planted. Weight forward.
The same moment.
The same position.
The same mistake.
This time, the enemy didn't hesitate.
The sword moved in a clean, controlled arc.
Nixxin tried to pull back, but his body was still locked in that reset position. His muscles responded too late.
The blade passed through him.
Clean.
Precise.
For a brief second, he didn't feel anything.
Then everything split.
Nixxin respawned at the first tower, his body reforming in a flash of light. His knees bent slightly as he landed, his breath rushing back into his lungs all at once.
He stayed still.
His hands slowly clenched into fists as the memory replayed in his head.
The impact.
The mark on the sword.
The reset.
His posture.
Not the enemy's.
His.
Nixxin exhaled slowly, then straightened.
"So that's how it works…" he muttered.
He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers.
"If I land a hit…"
He tightened his jaw.
"…I get pulled back to that exact moment."
His eyes lifted toward the battlefield again, sharper now.
"Then I just have to make sure that moment isn't a bad one."
He leaned forward, feet shifting into a new stance, more cautious this time, more controlled.
Then he stepped out again.