Olmo finally walked away from Steil after what felt like an eternity of discussion.
Jelo glanced to his side and saw Ken shaking, his body tight with desperation. He didn't need to ask—Ken was itching to fight.
"Just chill, bro," Jelo said quietly. "I don't know how olmo decides who fights or when, but everyone here is going to be tested. Just wait your turn."
Ken swallowed and nodded.
Olmo turned back to the students.
"So far, so good," he said. "I like what I'm seeing… and I also don't."
The atmosphere stiffened.
"I like the fact that our Class Two students are very strong," olmo continued. "But our Class One students still have a lot to learn."
His gaze swept across the field.
"I see potential in all of you," he said. "But potential alone isn't enough."
He paused, then raised his hand.
"Without wasting any more ti, let's move on to the next fight."
"The next match—Jelo versus Mark."
The mont olmo said it, the air shifted.
Whispers rippled through the mory field.
"Mark…?"
"Mark is about to fight?"
"Why Jelo of all people?"
Voices overlapped, disbelief thick in every word.
"Couldn't they have paired him with soone else from our class?" a guy muttered to the girl beside him. "At least then we'd have a chance of seeing a fair fight."
He didn't bother lowering his voice. Jelo could hear everything.
"Jelo's an F-rank," the guy continued. "There's no way he's beating Mark—one of the Deadly Trio. An A-rank, for crying out loud."
Jelo glanced at him, scoffed quietly, and turned away.
Without another word, he walked toward the center of the field—the place where he and Mark would clash.
"Good luck!" Ken shouted from behind him.
Jelo paused, looked back, and flashed a thumbs-up.
From the sidelines, Olmo watched closely.
Does he really think he's going to win?
I'm not even sure how far his power has developed yet…
Still, Olmo's eyes narrowed.
This fight should show him the gap. Let him understand how much further he has to go.
Back in the field, Jello barely spared Mark a second glance.
He wasn't overthinking it.
He wasn't afraid.
He simply waited.
Of course, Jello already knew Mark's rank.
Still, he activated his Assess Skill.
Numbers, pressure, presence—everything aligned into a single truth.
They weren't exaggerating.
Mark was truly A-rank.
…So this is it, Jello thought. My toughest fight yet.
A Class Two student at A-rank.
It made no sense.
Mark stood at the top of the Deadly Trio—the strongest among them. The other two were Upper C-rank, powerful in their own right, but Mark was different. He alone had crossed into A-rank.
And yet here he was.
Facing .
Why would Master olmo set this up?
Is he trying to test Mark… or learn sothing about ?
Is he asuring how far I've really co?
Questions flickered through Jello's mind, but he didn't let them take root.
I've faced worse, he reminded himself.
Mutated Dabbas. Crazy scientists. Battles that were supposed to be unwinnable.
This fight shouldn't be any different.
Jello exhaled slowly.
I'll treat it like every other fight.
"All right," Omo said. "Begin."
Jelo cracked his knuckles, flas flickering to life around his fingers. Mark stood opposite him, his expression unreadable, eyes still their normal brown.
"You sure you want this?" Jelo asked, confidence radiating from every pore.
Mark said nothing. He simply blinked—and when his eyes opened, they glead a dull silver.
Jelo didn't hesitate. He swiped his hand forward, and a massive claw-shaped projection of energy tore through the air toward Mark, flas trailing in its wake. The attack was fast, deadly.
But Mark was faster.
His enhanced reflexes kicked in instantly. He sidestepped with inhuman precision, the burning energy claw missing him by inches. Before Jelo could react, Mark was already moving, closing the distance between them in a blur.
Jelo's enhanced vision caught the movent just in ti. He triggered Wing Burst, his body vanishing in a rush of speed and reappearing fifteen feet to the left. Mark's fist struck empty air where Jelo's head had been a split second before.
"Close," Jelo muttered, breathing hard from the exertion. He thrust his palm forward, sending a wave of fire rolling toward Mark. The flas spread wide, forcing Mark to leap high to avoid being engulfed.
Mark's silver eyes tracked Jelo even as he soared through the air. He landed smoothly, those tallic eyes never wavering.
Jelo launched two Dragon Claws in rapid succession, both wreathed in flas. The burning energy projections curved through the air like hunting hawks. Mark's silver eyes tracked their trajectories effortlessly, and he wove between them with an almost casual grace, his body moving like water.
Jelo felt the first prickle of unease.
Mark suddenly locked eyes with him, and Jelo felt sothing shift. The world around him flickered—just for a mont—but it was enough. His body froze mid-motion, muscles refusing to respond. Panic flooded through him as he realized what was happening.
*The Dead Eyes.*
He couldn't move. Couldn't dodge. Mark walked toward him slowly, deliberately, each step asured. Jelo scread internally, fighting against the invisible prison. His enhanced vision showed him everything—Mark's approach, the silver glow intensifying in those eyes—but his body wouldn't listen.
At the last mont, Jelo activated Skilled Guard. His skin hardened, turning almost tallic as the defensive ability kicked in. Simultaneously, flas erupted from his body in a desperate burst. Mark's fist connected with his jaw, and while the guard absorbed most of the impact, the flas forced Mark back slightly—more importantly, it broke the eye contact.
The paralysis shattered.
Jelo gasped, imdiately triggering Wing Burst again, putting distance between them. His jaw ached despite the guard. He wiped blood from his lip, mind racing. *Don't look directly at him. Don't let him lock you in place again.*
"Smart," Mark said, his voice calm, brushing off a singed spot on his sleeve. The silver eyes tracked Jelo's every twitch. "But you can't avoid my gaze forever."
Jelo slamd his hands together, then pulled them apart. A stream of fire poured from his palms, creating a wall of flas between them. He used the cover to catch his breath, sweat already beading on his forehead. Wing Burst was exhausting, and maintaining the fire was draining too.
Mark didn't wait. He burst through the flas with shocking speed, his reflexes allowing him to navigate the inferno with minimal burns. Jelo barely saw him coming through his enhanced vision.
xxxxx .
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