Viktor made the next move, switching to his most formidable technique. tal stread from various points on his body, reshaping into dozens of razor-sharp tendrils that whipped around him like tallic tentacles—his Nano-Blade Projection.
"Now we see what the Academy Eleven prodigy is capable of," Lucas murmured. "Those nano-blades can slice through standard level 3 armor like paper. I have fought soone like this before. Gave hell,"
In the observation deck, even Commander Albright looked montarily concerned. "Dangerous technique for a first-year to attempt," he said to the official beside him. "Requires exceptional neural connection to control that many independent vectors."
Adrian recognized the threat imdiately. The nano-blades could slice through his defenses if he wasn't careful, potentially ending the match—or worse. He needed a solution, and fast.
As the first wave of blades shot toward him, Adrian made his decision. He ignited explosions all over his body in rapid succession, creating a chaotic barrier of shockwaves around himself. The continuous detonations disrupted the nano-blades' trajectory, keeping them at bay but draining his energy reserves dramatically.
'He's stalling,' Commander Albright thought. 'But for what?'
The crowd was on their feet now, the display of raw ability from both first-years surpassing all expectations. Even the third-year battles happening simultaneously were drawing less attention.
Adrian, surrounded by his explosive barrier, began to move. Not retreating, but advancing through the storm of nano-blades, each step accompanied by precisely tid detonations that cleared his path.
Viktor's eyes widened in surprise. No one had ever willingly moved toward his Nano-Blade Projection before. He intensified the attack, sending more blades from all angles, but Adrian kept coming, his Shock Armor flaring brighter with each step.
"He's going for a direct confrontation," Noah realized aloud. "If he gets close enough..."
"Point-Blank Detonation," Sophie finished, her voice barely audible over the crowd's roar.
"As much as I hate them now, the Albright's are freaks!!" She added.
Viktor realized Adrian's strategy too late. As Adrian closed the final few ters, Viktor made a desperate play. With a sharp gesture downward, he switched his tactics to tallic Morph, liquefying the tal flooring beneath Adrian's feet and then instantly resolidifying it, trapping Adrian's legs mid-stride.
Adrian lurched forward, suddenly immobilized from the knees down. The crowd gasped as he lost his balance, his explosive barrier faltering.
The nano-blades converged, sensing vulnerability.
"It's over," Commander Albright said flatly, disappointnt evident in his voice.
But Adrian wasn't finished. As the blades closed in, he slamd both fists into the tal encasing his legs and triggered his most powerful technique—Point-Blank Detonation.
The explosion was deafening, a concentrated blast that shattered his tal prison and launched him directly at Viktor like a human missile. The force was so great that the platform beneath them cracked, sending shards flying in all directions that were barely contained by the energy barrier.
Viktor, caught by surprise at Adrian's escape, desperately tried to recall his nano-blades to form a defensive barrier, but they were too widely dispersed. Instead, he reinforced his Liquid tal Armor to maximum density, bracing for impact.
Adrian collided with Viktor with catastrophic force, the explosion surrounding both combatants in a sphere of concussive energy. For a second, they were hidden from view within the blast cloud.
The entire arena held its breath.
Then, as the smoke cleared, both fighters erged—still standing, but severely battered. Adrian's gear was in tatters, blood seeping from nurous cuts where the nano-blades had connected. Viktor's armor was cracked and warped, steam rising from the superheated tal.
They stood facing each other, swaying slightly, neither willing to concede.
"Incredible determination from both academies' representatives!" the announcer shouted over the deafening crowd.
Commander Owen watched, transfixed. 'This isn't just a first-year match anymore,' he thought. 'They're fighting like third years,'
Albright who was close by heard him but said nothing in return even though he recognized he was the one being addressed.
Adrian's reserves were nearly depleted. He could feel it in the trembling of his muscles, the difficulty in focusing his explosions. One more major technique would be all he could manage. Across from him, Viktor was struggling too, his tal manipulations becoming less fluid, requiring visible concentration where before they had seed effortless.
In the stands, Academy Twelve's section was on their feet, shouting encouragent. The ladies voices in particular rose above the others: "Co on, Adrian! One more blast!"
Viktor made the first move. Gathering every scrap of tal still under his control, he ford a massive hamr, swinging it in a wide arc toward Adrian's head.
Adrian ducked under the swing, the hamr passing so close that he felt the wind of its passage. As Viktor's montum carried him forward, Adrian saw his opening. With the last of his strength, he pressed his palm against Viktor's chest plate and whispered, "Sorry about this."
"BVVVVVV-THWOOOOOM!!!"
The explosion that followed was different from the others—not larger, but more focused, all its force directed inward rather than outward. The tal armor covering Viktor's chest caved inward from the pressure, and Viktor was launched backward, his body slamming into the energy barrier with bone-jarring force before crumpling to the platform.
Adrian remained standing, arm still extended, smoke curling from his fingertips.
For three heartbeats, the arena was completely silent.
Viktor didn't get up.
"Victory to Academy Twelve's Adrian Albright!" The announcer's voice broke the spell, and the crowd erupted.
Noah released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Beside him, Kelvin was jumping up and down, shouting incomprehensibly. He knew if kelvin was being honest, he didn't particularly like Adrian but all pettiness aside, it was a ti of joy for the twelfth.
Sophie simply stared, her expression a mixture of relief and amazent.
"That final technique," Noah said quietly. "Did you see what he did?"
"He won, that's what he did!" Kelvin exulted.
"No, I an the explosion itself. He inverted it—directed the force inward instead of outward. That's..." Noah trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Innovative," Lucas supplied, appearing beside them. "Most explosion users can't control the directional force that precisely. You gotta give it to him, he is a true Albright,"
In the observation deck, Commander Albright's stern expression had softened almost imperceptibly. "Acceptable performance," he said, nodding once. To anyone who knew him well, this was high praise indeed.
On the platform, dical teams rushed in to attend to both fighters. Viktor was already regaining consciousness, wincing as the dics examined him. Adrian stood shakily, allowing himself to be supported as they led him toward the exit.
As they passed near by the back stage area where so of the Twelfth students were gathered, Adrian's eyes t Noah's briefly. There was no triumph in that gaze, only exhaustion and perhaps a question—who was next?
Noah gave him a small nod of respect. Whatever standard Adrian was being held to, he had more than t it today.
"And with that incredible opening match," the announcer continued, "we move to the next pairing for the first-year division!"
The scrambler began cycling through nas again. Noah turned his attention back to the display, aware that his own na could appear at any mont. But his thoughts remained on the battle he had just witnessed.
'If that's the level of the first match,' he thought, 'what am I in for?'
The holographic display slowed, new nas crystallizing into view. The crowd's roar renewed as fresh combatants prepared to take the stage, but the benchmark had been set. Two first-years, eting for the first ti, had demonstrated abilities beyond their years—and in doing so, had raised the stakes for everyone.
In the dical bay, Adrian finally allowed himself a small smile as the dics worked on his injuries. His father had been watching. For once, just maybe, he hadn't seen failure.
_____
In a reserved section of the stands designated for Academy Twelve faculty, the first-year horoom teachers watched as dical teams attended to Adrian and Viktor. The excitent from Adrian's victory still rippled through the crowd, conversations analyzing every move of the spectacular opening battle.
Miss Brooks sat with perfect posture, her usual composed deanor showing just the faintest hint of satisfaction in the slight upturn of her lips. Beside her, Mr. Vain adjusted his immaculately tailored uniform jacket, his aristocratic features pinched in grudging acknowledgnt. Mr. Rourke slouched in his seat, one leg casually crossed over the other, working his way through a container of noodles with indifference.
"Well," Vain finally broke the silence between them, smoothing back his perfectly styled hair, "Albright perford adequately. Though his form was sloppy in the third exchange."
Rourke snorted but didn't look up from his al, chopsticks moving hastily.
Miss Brooks turned slightly toward her colleagues. Those who knew her recognized that subtle movent—it was the equivalent of soone else leaping to their feet in excitent.
"Sloppy?" she echoed, her voice cool and asured. "Adrian demonstrated exceptional explosion control. Particularly that final technique."
Vain waved his hand dismissively. "Expected of Commander Albright's son. Though I doubt the Commander will see it that way." He glanced toward the observation deck where the senior officials sat. "Nothing is ever quite good enough for the Vice Headmaster."
There was an uncomfortable truth to his words that none of them disputed.
The holographic scrambler continued cycling through nas for the next match. Rourke paused his eating long enough to wash down his food with a long drink, seemingly oblivious to the rivalry simring beside him.
Miss Brooks gathered her tablet and stood. "I should check on Adrian. Ensure the dical team is properly addressing his injuries."
Vain's eyebrow arched. "How... attentive of you."
"He's my student," she replied simply.
"And one victory," Vain added with a thin smile, "hardly establishes Class 1B's superiority. When my representatives take the platform—" he glanced at the scrambler, "—you'll see what real Academy Twelve excellence looks like."
Miss Brooks adjusted her glasses, the light reflecting off them montarily. "Is that so?"
Rourke continued eating, eyes fixed on the arena floor as if the conversation didn't rit his attention.
"Class 1A has always set the standard," Vain continued, his tone dripping with aristocratic certainty. "This year will be no different."
"Perhaps tradition is due for an upset," Miss Brooks replied. She rarely engaged in their competitive banter, not from modesty but from a genuine disinterest in what she considered petty posturing. Today, however, sothing had changed.
Vain chuckled. "Your optimism is charming, Brooks."
She turned to leave but paused. The faintest smile played at the corner of her mouth as she looked back over her shoulder.
"Adrian's performance was impressive," she conceded, "but my best hasn't even stepped onto the platform yet." Her gaze drifted to where Noah sat with the other Academy Twelve students. "When he does... you might want to watch closely."
"Another of your ordinary prodigies?" Vain asked with false politeness.
Miss Brooks shook her head once. "Not ordinary at all." She looked directly at both her colleagues, her eyes suddenly intense. "An Eclipse is coming."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, leaving Vain montarily speechless.
Rourke finally looked up from his al, chopsticks pausing midway to his mouth as he watched her departure. For just a mont, his usually disinterested expression flickered with sothing that might have been curiosity—or concern.
Vain recovered quickly. "Dramatic as always," he muttered, though there was a new tension in his shoulders.
In the arena below, the next pair of nas crystallized on the holographic display, and the crowd's attention shifted to the upcoming battle. But among the Academy Twelve faculty, sothing had changed. Miss Brooks—who never participated in their rivalry, who never made claims she couldn't support—had just thrown down a gauntlet.
An Eclipse was coming. And sohow, that simple statent carried more weight than all of Vain's polished boasting.
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