The crowd went quiet for a heartbeat.
Then exploded into laughter.
"A joke match!"
"Two kids? Seriously?"
"Who did they bribe---?"
"This is what we paid to see?"
"I want my money back!"
The laughter was cruel, dismissive. Most of the spectators had come to see legendary warriors clash, not to watch children embarrass themselves. Some began heading for the exits, muttering about wasted time and rigged brackets.
But a few remained quiet, the experienced fighters who knew better than to judge by appearances alone. They'd seen too many surprises in their careers to dismiss anyone completely.
Then Ki stepped into the ring.
And Andreo followed.
And the air changed.
The temperature dropped five degrees. The laughter died in throats. Even the betting pools fell silent as both boys moved with a grace that spoke of serious training, of power held in check.
Ki stretched casually, his lab coat billowing in a wind that hadn't been there moments before. Tiny sparks danced around his fingers like fireflies made of lightning.
Andreo drew his blade slowly, deliberately. The weapon materialized from moonlight itself, a crescent sword that seemed to bend reality around its edges. The Bakunawa mark on his back began to glow faintly, visible even through his shirt.
The arena's ancient stones responded to their presence, humming with anticipation. This was what they'd been built for, to contain forces that normal architecture couldn't hold.
"Let's make this quick," Andreo said coolly, his voice carrying despite its quiet tone. The blade in his hand shifted between solid and ethereal, as if it couldn't decide which state of existence it preferred.
"Ooh, he speaks," Ki teased, cracking his neck with a sound like breaking branches. "Wanna be friends after I win?"
"No."
"Too late. We're bonding."
The announcer, a woman whose voice had called thousands of matches, raised her hand. She could feel the pressure building between the two boys, the way the air itself seemed to thicken with potential violence.
"BEGIN!"
And Ki vanished.
Not literally, he wasn't a teleporter. But fast enough to leave a lightning-shaped scar in the dust where he'd been standing.
The crowd gasped. Movement that fast shouldn't be possible without enhancement magic, but Ki's speed seemed purely natural, as if he'd been born with lightning in his veins.
Andreo pivoted, blade flashing in an arc that should have caught Ki across the ribs. But Ki had anticipated the move, twisting mid-air to avoid the strike while simultaneously launching a wild spin-kick that crackled with electrical energy.
The kick connected with the flat of Andreo's blade. Electricity exploded outward in a web of blue-white light, sending both fighters flying in opposite directions. The arena's protective barriers flared to life, containing the discharge before it could reach the spectators.
The crowd gasped again, but this time the sound was different. Not mockery, amazement.
Two kids just matched each other in speed. In technique. In soul pressure.
The betting pools exploded back to life, odds shifting wildly as people realized what they were watching.
"This was no joke match."
Ki laughed mid-roll, flipping back onto his feet with feline grace. His lab coat was singed but his grin was intact.
"You're good."
Andreo didn't answer. He crouched, one hand touching the ground in a gesture that made the arena's ancient stones tremble. The shadows around him began to move independently, twisting like living things.
The Bakunawa mark on his back flared to full visibility, a serpentine dragon wrapped around a crescent moon, its eyes burning with silver fire. The temperature dropped another ten degrees as the creature's presence filled the arena.
Dozens of serpents made of moonlight and shadow burst forth from the ground, coiling around Ki like divine chains. Each serpent was as thick as a man's arm and moved with predatory intelligence, their silver eyes fixed on their target.
Ki's grin widened. "Okay. You wanna dance?"
He clenched his fist, and a spark-shaped tattoo on his wrist flared to life. The mark was different from Andreo's, rougher, more chaotic, as if it had been burned into his skin by raw lightning rather than carefully inscribed.
A jagged bolt of lightning roared from the clear sky, cracking the moonlight chains in half. The sound was deafening, like the world itself breaking apart. The serpents dissolved into mist, their forms unable to maintain cohesion against the electrical assault.
The crowd stood as one. Some started cheering. Others sat in stunned silence.
A Sovereign in the high seats leaned forward, her immortal features creased with concern. "That mark… isn't registered." She turned to her advisor, a nervous man with ink-stained fingers. "Check the archives."
"Already on it, my lady. There's no record of that symbol in any database."
The Sovereign's eyes narrowed. Unregistered marks were dangerous, they could belong to forgotten gods, sealed demons, or worse. "Keep watching. And send word to the Council."
The fight raged for ten minutes that felt like hours.
Clash after clash. Lightning against illusion. Speed against strategy. Ki fought like a wild storm, unpredictable and overwhelming. Andreo fought like the ocean itself, patient, inexorable, deadly when it chose to be.
Neither could gain a decisive advantage. Ki's lightning shattered Andreo's illusions, but Andreo's tactical mind anticipated Ki's chaotic attacks. They moved across the arena like dancers performing a deadly ballet, each exchange more intense than the last.
The arena's protective barriers strained under the assault. Cracks appeared in the ancient stone. The crowd pressed back, suddenly aware that they might be witnessing something beyond the tournament's normal scope.
And when they both stood in the center, sweating, bleeding, breathing hard... the entire arena leaned in.
Ki's lab coat was torn and smoking. Andreo's shirt had been shredded, revealing the full glory of his Bakunawa mark. Both boys were marked with cuts and bruises, but their eyes burned with the same intensity that had started the fight.
"Draw," the judge announced, her voice carrying across the suddenly silent arena.
The coliseum exploded in noise. Half the crowd cheered, amazed by the display of skill. The other half booed, frustrated by the anticlimactic ending. But every single person present would remember this match for the rest of their lives.
But Ki just laughed, tossing a fist toward Andreo in a gesture of respect.
"Same time next week?" he said, grinning despite the blood trickling from his nose.
Andreo stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he bumped fists with the strange boy who'd just given him the fight of his life.
"Don't hold back."
That night, neither boy slept.
Ki lay on his back in the competitor's quarters, staring at the ceiling while replaying every moment of the fight. His spark-shaped mark tingled with residual energy, whispering secrets in a language he didn't understand. There was something about Andreo, something that made the mark react like it had found a missing piece of itself.
Across the complex, Andreo sat in meditation, trying to calm the Bakunawa's restless energy. The ancient serpent was agitated, fascinated by the boy with the unknown mark. In the depths of his soul, he could hear its voice... ancient, alien, hungry.
"That one is not what he seems," it whispered. "His lightning tastes of older storms."
The tournament would continue. There would be other matches, other opponents. But everyone present knew that something significant had happened today. Two forces had collided, and the reverberations would be felt for years to come.
In the shadows of the arena, watchers took notes. Messages were sent to distant lands. The quiet war between the Sovereigns and the growing resistance had just gained two new players, whether they knew it or not.
The Reset World was about to discover that some rules were meant to be broken.
And some children were never meant to be children at all.