Xavier barely had time to process his last match before the next one was locked in. He wasn't surprised—newbies were expected to fight until their bodies failed them. It wasn't cruelty; it was survival training. No matter how much pain clawed at his muscles, no matter how drained he felt, as long as he could stand, he had to keep going. The academy made it clear that quitting wasn't an option—only breaking was.
His next fight was against Orin, Rank 305—just one position above him. A small gap, but enough to matter. Unlike random fights on the streets, where brawls erupted whenever someone felt like throwing fists, the academy had strict rules. Every match had to be officially sanctioned by an instructor. Otherwise, it meant nothing. Rank changes only happened if the lower-ranked fighter won; if the higher-ranked fighter won, their position remained unchanged.
"You want this official?" the instructor grunted without looking up from his clipboard.
Orin nodded first. "Yeah."
Xavier rolled his shoulders, exhaustion creeping in but ignored. "Let's get this over with."
The instructor pressed a button, registering their match. "Xavier, Orin—official ranked fight. If Kael wins, you swap places. If Orin wins, rank stays the same. Get in the ring."
Xavier exhaled sharply and stepped forward. 'If I want to claw my way out of Segment 10, there's only one way forward—fight, win, repeat.'
The referee raised his hand. "Fight."
Orin moved first.
Xavier expected a straightforward attack, but Orin's movements were unpredictable. His footwork was different from Ryn's—faster, tighter, calculated. Xavier had fought reactive fighters before, those who waited for openings, but Orin created them.
A feint.
Xavier saw it too late. His instincts screamed at him to step back, but his mind misfired.
He reacted wrong.
Orin's real attack followed seamlessly, catching Xavier off guard—a sharp hook to the side that knocked the air from his lungs. No time to recover.
A second hit, an elbow to the jaw. His balance slipped.
'Damn it—no, stay up.'
His legs wobbled, but he steadied himself just enough to regain his stance. Orin didn't hesitate. He pressed forward, his strikes fast, efficient. Xavier was struggling.
He had fought well so far, but one mistake had put him on the back foot.
He tried to reset, to find an opening—but he never got the chance.
Orin swept his leg from beneath him, and Xavier hit the mat hard.
Pain shot through his back. He clenched his jaw, trying to move, but the referee's voice cut through the haze.
"Winner: Orin."
The ranking board updated instantly.
Rank 306 remained unchanged.
Orin exhaled and offered a nod before stepping away. No taunting, no gloating—just business as usual.
Xavier lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling lights. His own frustration simmered, the sting of the loss hanging heavy in his chest. He had let the fight slip because of a miscalculation. And in this academy, mistakes had consequences.
He sat up slowly, exhaling. He wasn't injured—just drained. The academy allowed newbies to fight until they physically couldn't anymore, and right now, Xavier knew he had hit his limit for the day.
Without a word, he pushed himself up and left the ring.
No one paid much attention. Fights happened constantly—wins, losses, rank changes. This was just another name shifting on the board.
He exited the arena, making his way down the halls toward his dorm. Segment 10.
Segment 10 was where fighters ranked between 320 and 289 lived—the lowest dorms, the weakest fighters. It was a mess. The walls were grimy, the air always damp. Rooms were packed, barely any space to breathe. Limited food, no privacy, and the constant noise of too many voices crammed together.
Xavier's room was in the farthest corner, small enough that he could barely stretch properly.
He sat on the creaky mattress, rubbing his sore jaw.
Segment 9 housed fighters ranked 288 to 257—slightly better conditions, fewer people per room, but still rough. Segment 8, ranks 256 to 225, had actual bedding instead of thin mattresses. Segment 7, 224 to 193, had personal lockers. Segment 6, 192 to 161, gave fighters small private rooms.
The higher segments were a different world entirely.
Segment 5, ranks 160 to 129, had clean facilities. Segment 4, 128 to 97, gave fighters space, calm. Segment 3, 96 to 65, had dorms that felt almost like normal housing. Segment 2, 64 to 33, had luxury compared to the rest—a level of comfort that was almost ridiculous.
And then Segment 1—ranks 32 to 1—was untouchable. The elite. Those fighters lived like kings compared to the rest.
Xavier exhaled.
Right now? He was still stuck in Segment 10.
And after today's loss? He had to climb harder than ever.
The dorm was loud.
He leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, it would start again.
He just had to be smarter next time.
'No more mistakes.'
'No more hesitation.'
He couldn't afford to slip again.
And with that, he closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over.