Michael braced himself. Warren had already thrown his spear—but just as Michael prepared to strike, Warren opened his hand.
The spear halted mid-air, then whipped back toward him like a living thing.
"Tch—"
Michael's new energy flared without him calling it. His body moved on instinct, sliding sharply to the side as the spear sliced past his back and snapped into Warren's palm.
Warren's expression shifted—calmer, sharper, almost excited.
Michael exhaled; he knew the real fight had finally begun.
The moment Warren's fingers closed around the spear, he twisted into a spinning descent and struck down at Michael before he could fully regain balance.
Michael barely raised his blade in time.
A sharp, ringing clash of steel cracked the air—
as Michael's arms trembled under the pressure.
Before he could breathe, Warren pulled back and stabbed again.
Michael managed to deflect it—barely.
There needs to be distance—
He jumped back to reset his stance—
—but Warren was already charging forward with a straight, ruthless strike.
Shi—!
Michael threw his blade up and barely parried the spear aside. For a split-second, he saw an opening and swung toward Warren's ribs—
—but Warren swept Michael's legs clean out from under him.
"What—?!"
Michael hit the ground hard, and before he could push up, Warren's kick slammed into his stomach.
His body flew across the podium.
He rolled, gasping, and forced himself upright again.
"Damn…" He winced. My mind sees everything early, but my body… it's too slow to follow.
He reset his stance, tightening his grip.
I have to catch up somehow…
Then a thought sparked.
What if I channel the energy into specific parts… instead of spreading it thin across my whole body? Feet first. Then joints and muscles. Switch to hands when I strike. Okay… let's try.
A warm, focused current moved through him as he shifted the energy into his legs.
Warren watched him adjust.
"Are you just going to sta—"
Michael vanished forward.
Warren barely caught the blur in his vision before blocking the incoming strike. The impact skidded him back a step.
He's way faster… Warren thought.
Smith narrowed his eyes. He's already using that method… good, but dangerous.
The clash began anew.
Warren's spear darted and stabbed like a serpent, but Michael parried each strike with growing sharpness. His reactions felt cleaner, smoother—almost natural.
There—an opening.
Michael lunged.
Warren blocked again, but with noticeably more effort.
Okay. I have the upper hand. If I keep this up—
Michael raised his blade for the next exchange—
—and the energy in the air suddenly shifted.
Warren exhaled once.
"Kid… you actually pushed me back." A small smile tugged his lips. "But if this keeps going… I'll really lose."
His stance changed—his whole presence changed.
Then—
Warren's pupils turned green.
A vibrant green aura ignited around him, bright enough for Michael to see clearly without using any technique.
Michael felt it instantly.
A standard and stable pool of energy—the thing he lacked.
The aura flowed naturally into Warren's spear. A reinforcing technique—pure boosting power.
"Now that I'm serious," Warren said, "let's start properly."
He wasn't even going all out…? Michael thought.
Michael steadied his breath and directed the energies inside him, forcing his focus to sharpen. The power streamed through his limbs again—
—and in that instant, Michael's vision changed.
His pupils shifted to blue.
Time didn't stop—but it felt slower. Warren still moved fast, probably faster than before, yet Michael perceived every twitch before it happened.
Warren thrust—
Michael blocked.
Warren swiped—
Michael parried.
Warren struck downward—
Michael deflected up and countered.
There's no openings… he thought, frustrated.
He pushed harder, swinging into a strike he thought would finally land—
—but Warren spun his spear backward. With the lower handle, he flicked Michael's wrist upward from beneath—
His blade flew into the air.
A blur of motion—Warren rotated the spear fully around his body and stopped the blade at Michael's neck.
"I win," Warren said gently.
Michael let out a long breath. "Yeah… I lost."
The green aura faded from Warren's body, and both of their eyes returned to normal.
"Don't look so down," Warren added. "You went against a B-rank Guardian and did all that without training or recruitment. Be proud."
"…Thanks."
Smith stepped forward. "Good fight, both of you. Michael—sometimes an opening isn't an opening. Be sharp."
"I get it."
"Oh, and that boosting technique you used? Smart thinking," Warren said.
"Yeah, it really helped," Michael admitted.
"Don't do that again," Smith cut in.
Michael blinked. "What? Why—"
"Take a step."
Michael obeyed—
A sharp, tearing pain ripped through his body.
"Agh!"
He dropped to a knee.
Smith sighed. "You directly boosted your muscles and joints. With a normal Guardian's energy level, they would've exploded from the inside. Yours is small, so you only get… unbearable pain. Limit it to five minutes a day."
"Five minutes?!"
"And don't use it much. Once that blue energy grows, it'll be way too strong."
Michael froze. "Blue—? But how did you know? I didn't even know."
"Kid. Your eyes turned blue the moment you opened them after closing them mid-fight."
"Wait—closing my eyes? During a fight…?" Smith's voice sharpened. "Do you want to die?"
Michael groaned. "Yeah… thanks for the advice."
He's right. I have to train this. Make it stable. And stop closing my eyes…
Smith slung Michael over his shoulder.
"Ouch—careful!"
"Deal with it," Smith said, walking off.
As they headed toward the house, Smith called, "Warren! You eating with us?"
Warren hesitated. "Ah—"
"Come on."
"…Fine."
They ate rice with caramel-like carmil fruit—sweet, soft, perfect with sauce.
"Oh—I forgot," Michael said between bites. "How do people apply to become Guardians?"
"You don't," Smith replied. "You get chosen. Scouts look for people with noticeable celestial energy. If you're good enough, a letter shows up in your mail."
Michael frowned. "What about me?"
"Well…" Smith shrugged. "Most scouts would think your energy is too small. They'd assume it needs years to grow."
"Ouch."
"That's why I recommended you myself."
"Figures," Michael muttered. It hurts a bit that I look weak to them… and my whole body hurts too.
At the gate, Warren waved. "Thanks for the match, kid. If you become a Guardian, I want to fight you again."
Michael smiled. "Yeah. Thanks."
Warren entered his taxi and left.
---
The Next Day — School
Lunch break. The field was alive with sports and noise, but the place the boys sat now wasn't their usual spot. It was simply somewhere they ended up because Michael was too drained to walk far.
Michael, Gideon, and Kevin sat on the ledge, watching other students.
"Didn't go to the library today?" Gideon asked.
"Nope. Just… didn't feel like it."
More like that fight drained my brain…
"What about you?" Michael asked. "No basketball?"
"Don't feel like it."
"Then you too," Michael smirked, glancing at Kevin. "Why are you here? No football?"
Kevin sighed. "Coach told me I can't touch a ball for three days. Because apparently—"
"—some guy shot the ball, it bounced off the post, smacked me in the head, and I accidentally tackled our goalkeeper screaming 'I got him!'"
Michael and Gideon burst into laughter. "Bro WHAT—?!"
Their laughter stopped as Lucy walked toward the spot—her usual reading and watching place, not theirs.
She froze at the sight of them, then immediately turned around to leave.
"Hey, you don't have to go," Gideon said.
Lucy shot him a deadly glare.
"You didn't even finish sports," Michael added calmly. "You don't do sports at all, remember? There's space above us if you want distance."
Lucy sighed and reluctantly sat on the upper ledge.
"The smell isn't the reason," she said. "It's one of you saying something stupid."
"Not today," Gideon said confidently.
Cheers suddenly erupted across the field.
"What's going on?" Kevin asked.
"Girls' football match," Gideon replied.
"Why so loud tod—" Kevin began, then realization hit him. "Ah. Elena."
"But she's basketball," he added.
"Yeah," Michael said. "But she helps the football team when they need someone. She's an all-rounder. Good in both sports and academics."
Gideon opened his mouth—
"Sports and acad—ohhh… I didn't mean it like—"
Before he could finish, Lucy's foot dropped on his head again.
"WHY?!" Gideon groaned.
"You were about to say something stupid," Lucy said flatly.
"She's right," Michael said.
"Yeah," Kevin nodded.
"Unbelievable…" Gideon muttered.
"Hey," he said, switching topics, "you guys wanna hang out Saturday? Restaurant or game bar?"
Saturday.
Recruitment day… Michael swallowed.
"Sorry. Busy that day."
"Me too," Kevin said.
Gideon looked toward Lucy.
"I'm not coming," she said instantly. "Even if I had time—which I don't."
"Fine…" Gideon sighed. "I'll plan something else."
Michael leaned back.
I need to train more. I have to be ready for the recruitment…