I walked out of the arena, the crowd's screams still echoing in my ears—a swirling storm of adrenaline and euphoria churning in my chest.
Ciny passed me in the corridor, that smug grin on her face and her eyes crackling with energy. She was about to head into the ring for her fight, and... I should've turned around and left.
We'd made a deal—I wouldn't watch her fight. Mutual respect. Personal boundaries. All that stuff.
But curiosity… it burns.
Just how strong is she, really?
She survived that hell underground... and always acts so confident.
What is she hiding behind that provocative smile?
Before I could give in to temptation, something darker inside me stirred.
A chill crawled up my spine. My hands began to tremble. The heat of battle still surged through my veins—but now it was tainted. Mixed with something I thought I'd left behind.
Withdrawal.
My mouth went dry. My chest tightened.
An all-consuming emptiness that no magic, no victory could ever fill.
Shit… how long had it been without the powder?
The rush of battle had distracted me, but now, in the silence between fights, my body remembered. And it demanded.
— No, John… You can't go back to that… — I muttered under my breath. — Focus… Stay focused.
I ran.
No thought, no plan.
My legs carried me to the training room, like physical pain could patch the emotional hole.
But even there...
Even as I tried to channel mana...
Nothing flowed like before. It was weak. Unstable.
Almost like something had been drained from deep inside me.
— Is this... because of the blue powder Min gave me? — I asked myself, cold sweat trailing down my spine.
That's when I noticed them.
Two guys tucked into a shadowy corner at the far end of the hall, exchanging something discreetly. But I knew what I was seeing.
Street deal. Drug exchange. I'd seen it a thousand times.
I used to be one of them.
I moved without thinking—like my body was acting on muscle memory.
Before I realized, I was already standing in front of the smaller guy, the one with the pouch.
— Hey... — I muttered, towering over him. — You the one with the... stuff?
He raised an eyebrow, sniffing out my desperation like a predator scents blood.
— Depends. What kind of "stuff" you after?
— The good kind. — My throat was dry.
— Ah... I get you. — A sly smile spread across his lips. — You want the blue powder.
— You got it?
— I got it. But it's hard to come by these days. You look like someone who needs it.
— What do you want in return?
He pulled a small bag from inside his coat and handed it to me like it was a sacred gift.
— First dose is free. I know you'll be back.
Eyes don't lie — he said with a grin, like he already knew me before I even spoke.
Then, just like that, he vanished into the corridor shadows.
I stood there, bag in hand.
That's it? That's all it took to fall again?
I rushed back to my room, praying no one would see me.
I shut the door, collapsed on the bed, and took a deep breath.
The powder shimmered faintly under the overhead light.
So small. So lethal.
So familiar.
I was about to open it when the door creaked behind me.
— John? — Ciny's voice.
Soft. Concerned. Confused.
I froze.
The bag was still in my hand.
Reality struck like a thunderbolt.
She saw.
She saw.
Her voice cut through the air like a blade.
— John...?
Her tone wasn't sarcastic. Not teasing like usual.
It was... empty. Tense. Almost afraid.
I turned slowly, like my body weighed three times as much.
The bag was still open in my palm. The soft blue glow of the powder seemed brighter now—maybe because I saw it reflected in her shocked eyes.
She stepped into the room without a word.
Slow steps.
Her eyes never left mine. Not the bag—me.
Shame scorched my stomach.
A lump tightened in my throat.
I... couldn't speak.
Ciny stopped in front of me. Crossed her arms.
But her posture wasn't defensive—it was almost... protective.
She exhaled, looking away for a second.
— I thought it was just exhaustion... but it's this, isn't it? This crap controls you?
— Ciny, I... — My voice cracked.
I tried to hide the bag.
As if that would undo what she had seen.
She didn't respond immediately.
She sat down on the bed across from me, silence stretching between us like a chasm.
Then she spoke again, but... differently.
— When I was younger... the leader of my old clan used to take this stuff too.
He'd get violent when he was out. Laugh to himself when he was high.
Then... he'd cry.
But he never... never had the guts to ask for help.
I swallowed hard.
The weight in my hand was crushing.
— You're not like him, John. — She looked me straight in the eyes.
— You still have a choice. You're just starting something real.
I saw that in the arena today. Everyone did.
— I just wanted... — My voice faltered again.
— I felt like I needed it. The mana... it was weak. I got scared.
— And you thought that shit would make you stronger?
She suddenly stood up, took two quick steps—
And in one swift motion, grabbed the bag from my hand.
She marched to the window and, without a moment of hesitation, hurled it outside.
— Ciny, no! — I shouted, jumping to my feet, panic seizing my chest.
She turned to me with a look that was part anger... and part sorrow?
— If you hate me for this... fine.
But I'd rather have you hate me than watch you waste away.
— You're better than this, John.
You want to be better.
And I... I believe you can be.
I stood there frozen.
My body trembled. My mind screamed.
But...
Somewhere inside me—small, barely noticeable—was a flicker of relief.
Someone had seen me.
Truly seen me.
— And now? — I murmured.
— If I get worse... if I fail?
She stepped closer, that half-mischievous, half-sincere smile on her lips.
— Then I'll be here to smack you back to your senses.
— And if you need it... to hold you up, too.
That's when I realized...
Maybe the hardest battle of my life hadn't been in the arena.
Maybe it was only just beginning.
But...
For the first time in a long time...
...I wasn't fighting alone.