The prep platform hissed open as Maxius floated in beside her, tail feathers twitching, phantom wing flickering like a lazy second thought. Fan Yumei crouched with her arms crossed, side-eyeing him like a disappointed gym coach.
"You were moving faster than you ever do in training," she said flatly. "Like… way faster."
Maxius blinked innocently.
Fan Yumei dropped her satchel and leaned closer, scanning the weight harness. "You're still wearing the ten-pounders, right?"
She tapped the sensors. The numbers flashed up in the corner of her HUD.
Fan squinted. "Huh… too light?"
She crossed her arms, thinking aloud.
She straightened slowly, tapping her chin. "Maybe I should've upped it by ten pounds, not five."
"Maybe I should've made it fifteen."
Maxius froze mid-hover—his feathers stiffening, his talons clenching like someone had just suggested turning breakfast into a full weapons test.
Fan turned slowly, catching the frozen expression on his face. Her lips curled into a teasing smirk.
"Oh. My bad."
Then she stood tall, fist to chest, voice ringing like a private oath.
"I underestimated your strength today. That won't happen again."
Her tone dropped into something steely and sincere—unyielding.
"I swear to test your limits properly next time. No soft calls. No pulling back. No underestimating your endurance. That's a life oath."
Thump. She patted her chest again for emphasis.
Maxius stopped hovering.
He dropped like a sack of bricks.
Literally.
The metal-on-metal clunk echoed off the prep deck.
He flailed upright a second later, wings puffed, chest heaving, tail lashing like a betrayed cat. His one visible eye locked onto her with the raw disbelief of a bird who'd just had their meal replaced with homework.
Fan tilted her head, blinking in mock innocence. "Oh, what? You think you're at max capacity already?"
Maxius let out a strangled screech of protest, wings flapping in frantic objection, talons carving a panicked spiral midair.
He screeched—a "no, no, no" that echoed through the prep hallway like a sentient car alarm.
Fan, activating her word-altering selective hearing, nodded solemnly like she'd just been validated by a pact.
"Exactly," she said firmly. "Excited to go even harder next time. That's the spirit."
Maxius screeched louder.
Fan turned away, already back in calm mode. "Proud of you."
Fan nodded solemnly. "That's right. Fired up. You're ready for greatness."
He screeched again—now circling her with dramatic urgency.
"Wow," she grinned. "You're even more excited than I thought."
Below, the arena lights shifted.
🎙️ "ALL RETURNED PARTICIPANTS TO PLATFORM."
The crowd stirred again as Bao Maiji re-entered the arena from the northern tunnel. His armor had been repaired, though a faint scorch mark still cut across the collar—left by Maxius's phantom strike. His steps were heavy with fresh qi, but his ego limped far behind.
🎙️ "Return from Supporters' Wing confirmed. Contestant Bao Maiji is cleared for Round Two."
He walked stiffly, every movement tight, jaw locked, eyes set like sharpened glass on Fan Yumei.
Fan stood calmly at her command platform, one hand poised over her rune-threaded console. Maxius floated in slow loops overhead—his visible wing stretched wide like a blade, his phantom wing warping the air in shimmering distortions. No tricks now. Just wind and phantom precision.
"You really think this proves something?" Bao snapped across the arena.
"Round One was luck. Cheap illusion. That's all that was."
Fan Yumei didn't bite. Her gaze stayed forward.
Bao kept pressing, dragging his voice through the silence. "Let's see how well you fight when your bird doesn't get to cheat. No mystic clouds to hide behind."
Still no answer.
🎙️ "Combatants—prepare for Round Two: Master Command Only."
🎙️ "Reminder: No direct combat allowed. Beasts must act solely under non-physical command. Interference will result in disqualification."
🎙️ "Match Start!"
Maxius peeled upward, phantom trails curling off his talons, his movement flickering through brief visual afterimages—never quite fully visible, never fully gone. The air around him crackled faintly, not with thunder—but with pressure and raw wind friction.
Across the sky, the Arctic Alpha launched forward, its…
🎙️ "Round Two complete. No clear advantage gained. Score: Draw."
The stadium lights dimmed for a moment as the system processed data.
The silence was broken by Bao Maiji's voice, dripping with venom.
"A draw? Dammit!! You think this is over? Huh?"
Fan Yumei remained still.
He kept going. "Acting all righteous with your flying disappearing tricks and those fake-ass phantom bursts. Anyone else with your beast would've been laughed out of the stadium."
Maxius froze mid-hover.
Bao's voice edged toward a sneer. "You think you're special? You're still just mortal trash and will always stay mortal trash."
Fan Yumei exhaled slowly.
Her head tilted just slightly—enough to clock him with one sharp, unbothered stare across the field.
She really hated guys like him. Sore losers were the worst kind, in or after a battle. She had encountered many in her last life.
"You talk a lot for someone who yielded in the first round and limped to the Supporters' Wing with his beast."
Bao's jaw twitched.
Fan Yumei stepped forward, her voice flat but firm. No bite—just cold, clear steel. Back straight and hands behind her back. Like a true soldier showing a warrior's aura.
"You call yourself a warrior, but can't take a clean loss. That's not strength. That's ego."
She glanced at Maxius, then back to Bao.
"A real winner learns from defeat. Pushes harder. Respects the battlefield. They don't blame the opponent. They don't throw tantrums in front of the whole academy and world like a foolish sore loser with bruised pride."
"You…"
Bao growled and took a step forward, but the auto-barriers hummed between them.
Fan didn't flinch. Her words cut clean.
"You want to talk about being 'mortal trash'? Then don't treat yourself like someone who actually understands that there's always someone better."
She tapped her own chest once—no theatrics this time.
"Victory and defeat—they're both fuel. Tools to get better. Anyone who resents the ones who beat them isn't a warrior. Just another loudmouth who peaked too early."
She turned away before the system could eject the field.
Maxius gave a dramatic flip in the air—just enough to slap a phantom wing ripple across Bao's direction as a goodbye wave.
🎙️ "Combatants, clear the arena. Match concluded," it chimed in warning.
Bao's teeth ground together.
Fan Yumei didn't even glance back.
She walked toward the gate, each step steady—calm, composed, unbothered.
Maxius followed with a proud, floaty twirl—still screeching his own theme victory song.