Chapter 41| Break Time

Chapter 41: Chapter 41| Break Time

"Ladies and gentlemen let’s take a short break," the commentator’s voice filled the corridor. "Come back at 4:00 PM for the remaining rounds. Trust me you do not want to miss what’s coming. The best part of the day is still ahead."

The practical complex exhaled.

Students were filtering out of the arenas into the corridors. Some heading for water, some for food, some just moving because sitting still after four hours of watching people hit each other was its own kind of exhausting.

Zane walked out of Arena Two into the main corridor and the conversations hit him before he’d cleared the entrance.

"He had two wins back to back, C-rank and then that fire type..."

"Someone tell me how a Sigilless student is doing that.."

"It’s probably a late manifestation or he’s been hiding it the whole time.."

" Whoever faces him in Round Three is going to have a problem but I bet he won’t be exactly lucky this time". They laughed.

He kept walking. Eyes forward. Expression doing the thing it always did when rooms were talking about him. Flat, unbothered, giving nothing back to work with.

Then Dex appeared from the direction of the Arena One corridor and fell into step beside him with the specific energy of someone who had been watching and had a lot of thoughts about it.

"At this rate," Dex said, "you might actually win this thing."

Zane looked at him.

"Don’t push it," Zane said.

"I’m serious." Dex gestured vaguely at the corridor around them. At the conversations, at the students, at the general shift in the building’s social weather. "Two wins. Back to back. The bracket math is not impossible from here."

"The bracket math has Ryan Castellan in Round Three," Zane said.

"Hypothetically," Dex said. "If the bracket lands that way." He paused. "Which it might."

Zane said nothing.

Dex looked at him sideways. "We’d have a lot of benefits, you know. Suite on the third floor. NSA stipend. Private training facilities."

Zane almost laughed.

"I wish," he said.

"Don’t wish," Dex said. "You’re let’s say two to three rounds away."

They walked in silence for a moment.

Then Dex said "I genuinely didn’t know my roommate was this tough."

Zane glanced at him.

"Toughness doesn’t show on faces," Zane said.

Dex looked at him for a second. Then nodded slowly like that was one of the more accurate things he’d heard today.

"Fair enough," Dex said.

They reached the corridor junction. Dex peeled off toward the water dispensers. Zane stopped.

He had somewhere to be.

The academy infirmary was on the ground floor of the main building. East wing adjacent, close enough to the practical complex that the medical team could move fast when the trials ran hot.

Zane pushed through the door quietly.

It was cooler inside. Cleaner. The specific smell of a medical facility that took its job seriously. Four beds along the right wall. Three empty. One occupied.

Maren was on the far bed. Eyes closed. Breathing even. The training gear from the match had been replaced with something lighter. A white infirmary gown that clung to her frame in a way that had absolutely no business doing what it was doing in a medical facility. It clenched tight to her slim physique revealing her curves and essences.

Zane looked at the ceiling briefly.

’What am I thinking about right now,’ he thought. ’She just got carried off an arena floor on a stretcher.’

He looked back at the bed.

She was okay. That was the thing that mattered.

Her colour was better than it had been when they’d carried her off the floor. Breathing even. Expression relaxed in sleep in a way it never quite was when she was awake.

Zane stood at the foot of the bed for a moment.

’She looks fine,’ he thought. ’All things considered.’

He almost smiled.

"She’s sleeping."

He turned.

The A-rank healer was at the small desk near the window. Late forties. Silver streaking through dark hair pulled back efficiently. The kind of face that had seen enough to stop being surprised by most things. Her Sigil was still faintly active. The residual warmth of extended healing work sitting in the air around her hands.

"Stacy Reed," she said, reading his look. She was a former backline support hero who retired to the academy three years ago.She waved a hand. "Before you ask,she’s fully healed. It took about forty minutes. The damage looked worse than it was."

"That’s good," Zane said.

Reed reached into her desk drawer and produced a small paper bag. Reached in. Pulled out a lollipop. Held it out.

Zane stared at it.

"She brought them," Reed said, nodding at Maren. "Whole pack. Said she was nervous this morning and sugar helps." A pause. "Take one. She’d want you to."

Zane took the lollipop.

Stood there for a moment looking at Maren’s face. Relaxed in sleep in a way it never quite was when she was awake. The calculation was always running behind her eyes at rest even though they were closed.

’She’s okay,’ he thought.

’She’s okay.’

He put the lollipop in his pocket.

"Thank you," he said to Reed.

Reed waved him off. Already back to whatever she’d been doing at the desk.

Zane looked at Maren one more time.

Then turned and walked out.

_ _

The cafeteria at 3:45 PM was running a different crowd from its usual lunch service. Trial day eaters, students with the specific appetite of people who had been running on adrenaline for four hours and had just remembered food existed.

Zane joined the line, collected a tray, and found a table near the window.

He was three bites into his meal when his stomach made itself very clearly known.

’Dissipating that much energy across two matches,’ he thought. ’Of course I’m starving. The body doesn’t run Overdrive for free.’

He ate faster.

He was finishing the last of it when his communicator beeped.

One notification. Academy PA system.

4:00 PM — Round Three of the first year rank trials now beginning. All participating students please report to assigned arenas immediately.

Zane looked at his communicator.

Then at the burn mark on his left shoulder from the proximity heat in Round Two. Still tender. Not serious. Just present enough to remind him it had happened.

He stood up.

Picked up his tray. Deposited it. Walked out of the cafeteria and turned toward the practical complex.

Round Three.

Ryan Castellan.

The file was still open.

Time to close it.

’Just hoped she did her part’ he clicked his tongue.