[16th June]
The stadium had not slowed down.
In the medical area beside the main grounds, contestants moved in and out constantly.
Some limped in after brutal matches.
Others rested quietly, eyes closed, trying to recover what little strength they had left.
Round Six had ended not long ago.
The winners were preparing for what came next.
On one of the benches near the inner medical wing, Hosric sat silently.
A strong cup of coffee steamed between his hands, its bitterness doing little to calm the emptiness gnawing at his chest.
Fenlor stood nearby, accompanied by two butlers who attended to Hosric's condition.
His Qi depletion had left him visibly exhausted, yet the smile on his face hadn't faded since earlier.
Because just a few steps ahead—
Rey lay on a medical bed.
Unconscious.
But alive.
Stable.
That alone felt like a miracle.
Fenlor approached the bed quietly.
Rey hadn't awakened yet.
Nearly two and a half hours had passed since the poison was purged.
The doctors had warned them.
His meridians were damaged.
His organs had suffered internal burns.
His muscles were strained beyond what a normal body should endure.
Even now, his arms were colder than they should be.
His blood vessels were still recovering.
He needed rest.
Real rest.
Hosric knew exactly what that meant.
'He's done with the tournament.'
He set the empty cup back on the tray.
'So be it.
The university was never worth a child's life.'
"Fenlor," Hosric said quietly.
Fenlor turned immediately.
"Yes, Father?"
"I need to return to the gallery," Hosric said.
"But listen carefully."
"If Rey wakes up, you take him home after your match. Don't let him fight again. Not even if he asks."
His tone hardened slightly.
"I've already arranged a car. Get the doctor's permission and leave immediately."
Then, softer—
"Tell him to call his mother when he wakes up."
Fenlor nodded without hesitation.
"I understand."
He paused, then added, "But you should rest too, Father."
Hosric smiled faintly.
He reached out and ruffled Fenlor's hair once before turning away.
One butler followed him.
The other stayed behind.
Fenlor moved to the seat Hosric had occupied earlier and sat down in a lotus position, closing his eyes.
The broadcast of Round Seven began overhead.
Luckily for him, his position in the section was near the end.
Time passed quietly.
The medical area gradually emptied as contestants returned to the arena.
Only a few unconscious participants remained.
The sky outside darkened, lights illuminating the stadium as evening approached.
Section A was called.
Fifty advanced.
Efficient. Ruthless. Clean.
Section B followed soon after.
Fenlor opened his eyes when the butler tapped his shoulder.
He rose calmly and walked over to Rey one last time.
Rey looked peaceful now.
Breathing steady.
No visible pain.
"Butler," Fenlor said quietly, "stay here."
"If he wakes up, don't let him leave. Don't let anyone suspicious come near him. Not until Father or I return."
The butler bowed.
Fenlor hesitated for a moment.
Then he spoke softly, almost like he was afraid Rey might hear.
"It's cruel," he said, eyes lowered.
"To be strong enough… and lose your chance because someone cheated."
A sad smile touched his lips.
"But don't worry."
"Even if the university slips away, someone else will see your worth."
If Rey were awake, Fenlor knew—He would've argued.
He would've insisted on fighting.
Even now.
But Rey slept.
And that was the only reason Fenlor could leave.
He turned and headed for his match.
Behind him, the medical area grew quiet again.
The butler adjusted some equipment beside Rey's bed.
That was when—
Rey's eyelids twitched.
Just once.
His fingers curled faintly.
No one noticed.
Fenlor's match was brutal.
Another sword user.
Stamina versus stamina.
Neither gave ground.
With less than thirty seconds left, Fenlor struck cleanly.
Victory.
He raised his sword toward the gallery.
Hosric smiled openly.
Some nobles applauded.
Others scoffed behind veiled expressions.
The joy lasted only moments.
Hosric's communicator vibrated.
He answered casually—
Then froze.
The color drained from his face.
"What?" he said sharply.
The nobles beside him turned in confusion.
Hosric stood up abruptly.
"What do you mean… he woke up?"
The line crackled.
Hosric's voice dropped.
"What do you mean… something's wrong?"
The call ended.
Silence spread through the gallery.
And whatever calm had settled over the stadium—
Shattered.
"What… how could this be possible?"
Hosric's voice trembled, disbelief cracking through his composure.
"He was right there. Under the watch. Don't joke with me about this."
The moment the call ended, Hosric was already moving.
He left the gallery without another word, his steps fast, uneven, almost reckless, heading straight for the medical hall.
Fenlor noticed instantly.
His father never lost control like that.
Something was wrong.
Without hesitation, Fenlor turned away from the arena and followed, abandoning the noise of the stadium behind him.
By the time Fenlor reached the medical hall, chaos had already taken root.
Medical equipment lay scattered across the floor.
Trays overturned.
Curtains torn aside.
Doctors and medics stood huddled near one wall, pale, shaken, whispering in low, frightened voices.
Fenlor's eyes searched instinctively.
The bed.
The one Rey had been lying on.
Empty.
Only blood-soaked sheets remained, dark stains still wet, proof that someone had been there moments ago.
Hosric stood in the center of the hall, unmoving.
Silent.
Like a statue carved from grief and fury.
Fenlor approached cautiously.
"Dad…" he said softly.
"What happened? Where is Rey?"
Hosric didn't turn.
"I don't know," he said flatly.
Then, after a pause—
"In the worst case, he was taken by the ones who poisoned him."
His fingers curled slowly.
"Or… he woke up."
Fenlor's breath caught.
"That's impossible," he said immediately.
"The doctor said he wouldn't regain consciousness for hours. His body couldn't—"
"There are people who can do things beyond medical logic," Hosric cut in.
His voice was cold now.
"And I know exactly the type who would enjoy this."
He finally turned.
His eyes were sharp, burning with something dangerous.
"If anything happens to him, this becomes a contract breach."
He looked toward the stadium officers standing nearby.
"You two," he said.
"Find him. Now."
"Call your manager. Tell him I'm involved. I won't tolerate delays."
The officers stiffened.
They nodded and ran.
Within minutes, the stadium shifted.
Staff were mobilized quietly.
Security footage was pulled.
Rey's image was circulated to every guard and worker.
No announcements.
No panic.
A silent hunt.
Section C began regardless.
The tournament did not wait for missing boys or broken bodies.
Rey's match was scheduled early.
Third batch.
And yet—
He was nowhere to be found.
Footage finally revealed something.
A figure staggering out of the medical hall.
Unsteady.
Leaning against walls.
Dragging himself forward.
Alone.
After that—
Nothing.
No exit cameras caught him.
No guards remembered stopping him.
He simply vanished inside the stadium.
Hosric's fear shifted.
If Rey had been taken, he could fight.
If Rey had escaped on his own…
That terrified him far more.
Hosric sat heavily in the gallery, eyes fixed on the arena below, yet seeing nothing.
Rounds passed.
Batch after batch.
His gaze drifted unconsciously toward the public stands.
The place Rey usually sat.
Empty.
His jaw tightened.
'Why would you leave?
In that state?'
The Fifth Batch ended.
Section C continued.
Hosric closed his eyes, sinking deeper into thought—
When his communicator rang.
Fenlor.
Hosric answered instantly.
"Did you find him?" he demanded.
"If you're calling without news, hang up now."
There was a pause.
Then Fenlor said quietly, "Father… look at the arena."
Hosric frowned.
He stood and looked down.
The next match had been announced.
Yet one side of the arena stood empty.
The opponent was already present, restless, eyes darting toward the entrance.
Hosric's irritation spiked.
'Who dares to delay a scheduled match—'
Then he saw the contestant ID on the screen.
19,082.
His breath stopped.
The entrance gates creaked open.
A single figure stood there.
Wrapped in a long coat.
Shoulders slightly hunched.
A bow strapped across his back.
The crowd murmured.
Hosric's face drained of color.
"This… idiot…" he whispered.
His hand clenched around the railing.
The figure stepped forward into the light.
His face was still shadowed.
But Hosric didn't need to see it.
He already knew.
Because only one person would walk onto the arena after poisoning, after collapse, after nearly dying—
With a broken body.
And eyes still fixed on victory.
"Rey…" Hosric muttered.
Fear, anger, pride, and dread collided inside his chest.
"What the hell are you thinking?"