Chapter 42| Unsettled Scores

Chapter 42: Chapter 42| Unsettled Scores

The commentator’s voice filled the practical complex at exactly 4:00 PM.

"Welcome back ladies and gentlemen from your short break. Hope you rested up because what’s left in these trials is worth every minute of attention you’ve got." A pause for effect. "We are now in Round Three. The field has been cut down. What remains are the students who earned their spot here. No flukes. No easy matchups from this point forward." Another pause. "Let’s jump straight in. First matchup of Round Three coming up now."

Zane was already in the Arena Two corridor when the announcement finished.

He checked the display above the entrance.

007 — CALLOWAY, ZANE vs 019 — CASTELLAN, RYAN

Nova Steele had made the call.

He stared at the names for exactly three seconds.

’This is it,’ he thought.

The arena doors opened.

The observation rail was the fullest it had been all day.

Word had moved fast during the break. Two wins for the Sigilless student against a B-rank Flashstep and a fire type elemental. The building had stopped treating this as a curiosity and started treating it as something worth actually watching. Students packed the rail three deep in some sections. Second and third years who hadn’t planned to watch Round Three were here now.

Zane walked onto the floor.

Ryan was already there.

He looked different from the earlier match. Not physically. Same build, same composed posture. But something in the way he was standing had recalibrated. The easy social confidence was still there but underneath it something more focused had switched on. He wasn’t looking at the Sigilless charity case anymore.

He was looking at someone who had won two rounds and requested this matchup specifically.

They faced each other across the composite floor.

The commentator’s voice dropped slightly.

"007 versus 019. Calloway versus Castellan. B-rank Pressure Wave against. Whatever Calloway has been running that nobody has officially classified yet." A pause. "This one has been building since week one ladies and gentlemen. Let’s find out what it is."

The referee raised his hand.

Dropped it.

Ryan activated immediately.

Ryan activated immediately.

"Since I underestimated that girl and she hit me," Ryan said quietly, more to himself than to Zane, "I won’t be making the same mistake twice."

Full B-rank Pressure Wave. Not the graduated output from the earlier match. Straight to near capacity. The displacement field expanded across his half of the arena floor in a radius that made the air visible, the composite surface flexing slightly under the output pressure.

Zane activated Overdrive at 60%.

The surge hit instantly. He dashed left, cutting a wide arc around the field’s leading edge. The angular approach drilled into muscle memory over weeks of solo arena sessions.

Ryan redirected immediately.

Faster than Mercer. Faster than Reeves. B-rank output with B-rank reaction speed behind it. The field tracking Zane’s arc before he finished the first step of the redirect.

He reversed. Cut right. The field was already there.

’He’s reading the arc,’ Zane thought. ’Saw it in Round One against Reeves. He knows the approach.’

He changed the geometry entirely. Shorter arc. Different entry angles. Less predictable.

The field caught the leading edge of his approach and hit him across the chest.

He skidded back two meters. Caught himself.

’That’s probably 60% Pressure Wave,’ he thought. ’And I felt all of it.’

He activated Overdrive again, his previous interval had elapsed . Cut a completely different angle, not left or right, diagonal forward, trying to get inside the field’s redirect delay.

Almost made it.

The field clipped his shoulder. He pushed through it. Got within three meters.

Ryan concentrated the field into a focused forward burst before Zane could close the final distance.

Hit square in the chest.

Zane left the floor.

Landed on his back. Slid. Got up.

His ribs were talking to him. Not broken. Just loud.

"— Calloway is taking serious damage closing distance," the commentator said. "But he keeps getting up. Every time Ryan pushes him back he gets back up and changes the approach. I don’t know what’s driving this kid but it is something to watch."

Zane activated Overdrive again.

60%. Cut diagonal. Changed the arc mid-approach. Got inside four meters this time before the field hit him again.

He stumbled. Stayed up.

『 WARNING: Overdrive has been activated at repeated intervals in an incorrect mental state. Emotional interference detected. Subconscious activation patterns are producing inefficient output cycles. Energy reserves are depleting at an accelerated rate. 』

’I know,’ Zane thought. ’I know. Just a little more.’

He activated Overdrive again.

The surge was weaker this time. Still there but thinner. Like something that had been running too long on not enough left to run on.

He cut the angle. Got inside three meters.

Palm coming up. Impact Breaker loading.

Ryan read it.

Didn’t redirect the field. Instead he stepped forward into Zane’s approach, inside his own field radius and released a concentrated Pressure Wave burst at absolute point blank range.

The output hit Zane like a wall had appeared from nowhere.

He left the floor again.

This time he went further. Four meters. Five. Hit the arena wall on the far side and dropped.

He tried to get up.

His arms had a different opinion.

The Overdrive reserves were gone. Impact Breaker sitting in his palm without the speed to use it. His ribs were significantly louder than they’d been thirty seconds ago.

He got to one elbow.

Heard the commentator’s voice coming from somewhere that felt further away than the arena ceiling.

"The referee is calling it — Calloway is down. Ryan Castellan advances to the semi finals." A pause. "But ladies and gentlemen this looked like a beatdown rather than an actual match, but let the record show that a C-rank student with no registered Sigil just made a B-rank hero work harder than he’s worked all day. Whatever Zane Calloway has been carrying into these trials. It was real. And it was something."

The referee’s hand came down.

Zane heard it.

He wanted to say he could still keep going. That he had more. That the file was still open and Ryan Castellan wasn’t done yet.

His body had already made that decision for him.

No Overdrive left. No breath to speak with. His ribs pressing their complaint into every attempt to inhale.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

’Ryan Castellan,’ he muttered.

The next thing he saw was darkness.