Chapter 16: A True Battle for Life – Part 2
(First Person POV – May Blackheart)
After Lily left with that man, I remained seated in the waiting room.
I kept my posture relaxed, my expression calm, but my thoughts moved rapidly beneath the surface. Around me, whispers spread like quiet fire. Envious glances brushed against my back. A few people openly stared.
I could already guess what most of them were thinking.
What an idiot.
Who turns down a direct offer from someone important enough to bypass three exams?
I leaned back slightly in my chair.
"Cellular Adaptation," I asked internally, "any idea who that man was?"
For a moment, the translucent system screen dimmed in my vision. Then it brightened again as text appeared.
Possible identity: Overseer of this Night Watcher branch.
Reasoning: Only select individuals possess authority to admit candidates directly into the training period without evaluation.
"That makes sense," I murmured inwardly.
It explained several things.
I hadn't sensed his arrival. Not even a fluctuation in air pressure. Not a sound of footsteps. Nothing.
Someone of that status would likely be at least Third Star within one of the Star Systems. At that level, controlling one's presence would be effortless. They could thin their existence, suppress their aura, blur perception.
To someone like me, they might as well have been a ghost.
I ran through a few more theories while pretending not to notice the stares around me. It didn't matter. Their opinions were irrelevant.
Soon enough, my name was called again.
The second match.
I stood up smoothly and walked down the same corridor as before. The hum of distant battles echoed faintly through the walls. The metallic scent of heated platforms lingered in the air.
When I entered the arena, the scale of it still impressed me.
Multiple platforms floated at varying heights. Some were reinforced with thicker barriers—likely reserved for final rounds. Above each one, a screen displayed the names of the competitors.
I scanned the platforms and found mine.
My name glowed in clean white letters above the stage.
I stepped onto it with steady composure.
This time, my opponent was already waiting.
She was a girl with plain black hair tied loosely behind her head. Her eyes were dark and steady. No flashy aura. No dramatic stance.
Ordinary.
Which made her dangerous.
At first glance, her talent did not appear powerful or visually distinct. That could be annoying.
However—
I had watched her first match on the waiting room screen.
She absorbed hits without flinching.
Then returned them with equal force.
Kinetic energy storage and reuse.
Or some variation of defensive amplification.
Either way, it would be troublesome.
The bell rang.
We began walking toward each other slowly.
Unlike the arrogant boy from before, she did not rush. Her posture was disciplined. Balanced. She carried herself like someone with real combat experience.
We stopped a few feet apart.
Then we moved simultaneously.
But I was faster.
I launched forward and drove a straight kick into her stomach. The impact echoed sharply across the platform. She stepped back several paces—but did not fall.
As expected.
I pressed the advantage immediately.
Punch. Elbow. Knee.
Each strike landed solidly.
Yet something was off.
The force dispersed strangely. My blows were not fully effective. It felt as though they were being swallowed, absorbed into something beneath her skin.
Good.
That was part of the plan.
I increased the tempo, unleashing a barrage of attacks powered by my peak physical support. The rhythm of impact became almost mechanical.
She endured it.
Her expression remained focused.
Then I felt it.
The shift.
She moved to counterattack.
Her stored energy surged outward as she stepped forward, fist drawing back with compressed force.
That was my cue.
I deliberately allowed my footing to "slip" slightly, just enough to make her think she had caught me off balance.
Her punch shot forward, aimed directly at my chest.
At the last possible moment—less than a tenth of a second—Battle Instincts, now Rank 3, flared violently inside my mind.
Time seemed to stretch.
Her shoulder rotated too far.
Her balance leaned slightly forward.
Her center of gravity shifted.
I pivoted.
Instead of blocking high, I dropped low and swept my leg into hers with precise timing.
Her stance collapsed.
She fell.
The stored kinetic force she had prepared for the punch disrupted her own balance.
Before she could recover, I grabbed her leg firmly and twisted my hips.
Using her compromised position and my enhanced strength, I hurled her sideways—
Off the platform.
Her body sailed through the air.
She hit the ground beyond the boundary with a heavy thud.
Silence lingered for half a second.
Then the barrier shimmered, confirming her disqualification.
The match was over.
The strategy had been simple.
Feed her energy.
Let her absorb hit after hit.
Push her closer to the threshold of how much kinetic force her body could safely contain.
Then bait her into releasing it.
But instead of taking the attack head-on—
Destabilize her.
She could absorb blows.
But being thrown off the platform was different.
Absorption did not prevent displacement.
The moment her own stored force interfered with her stability, she was vulnerable.
I straightened my uniform calmly.
The crowd's reaction was mixed. Some were impressed. Others confused. A few clearly had not understood what happened.
She stood up slowly outside the platform, brushing dust from her clothes. Her eyes met mine briefly.
No anger.
Only acknowledgment.
She understood.
I gave a small nod.
Then I turned and walked off the stage.
Another step forward.
Another obstacle removed.
But as I exited the arena, one thought lingered in my mind:
This was only the early stage.
If this was already considered competitive—
Then the true battle for life had not even begun.
And that—
Was far more interesting.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE:- I didn't have much for this chapter so it's the shortest one yet in my novel.)