The next match was called.
A loud tone echoed across the arena, and a deep voice cut through the crowd.
"Class Zero. Sector Twelve. Prepare for deployment."
The arena lights dimmed. The glass booth slid open.
Lucian stepped forward first.
Behind him, Evelyn rolled her shoulders. Reia tied her hair. Silas cracked his knuckles. Vyn... just walked, quiet and calm like always, but her eyes were already shifting, pupils dilating like a predator syncing with the field.
People leaned forward.
Even the other academies stopped what they were doing.
Class Zero—the freak squad.
But this time, they weren’t facing some C-rank nobodies.
Sector Twelve came in hard. Four of them dropped into the sandstorm terrain with the weight of soldiers. The striker hit the ground with a dull boom, boots digging in. She was tall, broad-shouldered, eyes cold.
Lucian knew her file—Brisa. Rank C+, but she’d killed people in underground fights. Her mana was dense. She wasn’t just built for tournaments. She was built to end lives.
Next to her, the duelist twins adjusted their gloves. Pale skin, mirrored scars, cores synced in opposite flow patterns. Kinetic amplification. One focused on mass; the other on velocity.
The fourth wore a mask.
Lucian had no data on him.
The sand terrain crackled as the arena completed shaping. Heat waves shimmered. Mana distortion kicked in. No long-range accuracy. No vision beyond thirty meters.
Lucian moved instantly.
[Spatial Anchor — Zone Lock]
The air shimmered around his team, stabilizing the distortion around them.
Vyn’s eyes flashed violet as her fingers slid apart gently.
[Magic Flow Control — Domain Threading]
The sand stopped moving around her feet. Mana obeyed. She walked forward, steps never sinking, as if the terrain bent for her.
Brisa came in a blur—no warning.
She didn’t run. She lunged, arm cocked back.
His left palm grabbed her wrist, and the impact cracked the air.
A shockwave kicked up sand.
Brisa’s expression didn’t change. Neither did Lucian’s.
She twisted mid-air and brought her knee up.
[Temporal Slow — Sector Lock]
Lucian flickered—barely a blur—and her knee met empty space.
Silas appeared above her in mid-drop, boots slamming down on her back.
He was faster than most, strong too, but Brisa caught him mid-crush.
Her spine arched. Her mana exploded outward like a bomb.
Silas was thrown across the battlefield, blood spraying from his mouth.
But she didn’t panic.
She reached out mentally, brushing everyone’s surface thoughts in the chaos.
[Telepathic Sync — Battle Stream]
"Left side—twins flanking, aiming for Evelyn. Lucian—she’s breaking your field."
Lucian replied only with a thought.
Vyn stepped to the center and raised her hand.
[Magic Deconstruction — Flow Sever]
The sand around the twins liquified instantly.
Their balance slipped, just enough.
Evelyn grinned and snapped her fingers.
Appeared behind the left twin.
And drove a knee straight into his kidney.
A second Evelyn kicked the other twin square in the face.
He blocked it—barely—but his foot skidded back hard.
"Try harder," Evelyn whispered.
One twin twisted his core flow and slammed a wall of kinetic force outward.
Evelyn’s clone shattered.
But the real one was already crouched beside him, spinning low.
He coughed blood and hit the ground.
The other one turned toward her.
She overloaded his flow with a single pulse.
The twin’s body seized up.
A sharp snap echoed—he collapsed.
Vyn raised both hands now.
The masked one was charging her, sprinting fast enough to blur.
[Mana Flare — Layer Compression]
She crushed the magic in a 5-meter radius.
The masked fighter tried to swing a chain-blade—too late.
Lucian was there now.
He was inside his guard.
One jab—fast, direct.
The masked fighter exploded backward, smashing through a dune and disappearing in the dust.
Lucian turned slightly.
"I said," he muttered, "stay safe."
He turned to Brisa again.
Brisa’s fist was inches from his back.
[Magic Assist — Flow Redirect]
Vyn twitched her fingers.
Brisa’s punch twisted sideways, her own force turning against her.
Lucian turned and landed a clean hook to her ribs.
She spat blood and grinned.
She slammed her forehead into Lucian’s.
She charged again, yelling this time—finally letting herself loose.
But Evelyn was already mid-air.
She dove from above, axe kick slamming down.
Brisa blocked it, and Evelyn grinned—because that wasn’t the real one.
The real Evelyn was behind her.
"Elbow," she said simply.
Lucian exhaled slowly.
Sand swirled around them.
Every Sector Twelve fighter was down. One unconscious. Two bleeding. One... missing.
Silas limped back, jaw clenched.
"You alright?" Evelyn called out.
He grunted. "She hits like a truck. Still standing though."
Vyn didn’t say anything.
She just waved a hand and let her control fade.
The heat mirage calmed. The sand settled.
Reia stepped forward last, eye twitching.
"They were trained to kill," she muttered. "They weren’t holding back."
"No," Lucian agreed. "They weren’t."
Athena’s voice buzzed in their ears again.
"Match complete. Class Zero—victory confirmed."
They went silent for two seconds.
Cheers shook the dome.
But it wasn’t like the other fights.
The kind of cheer that came with fear.
Even the other booths were frozen.
No one had expected a clean wipe.
Class Zero regrouped at the center.
Lucian looked at each of them.
Silas was bruised but standing.
Vyn was already fading her mana down.
Reia’s nose bled slightly from psychic strain.
Lucian turned his gaze up.
Back to that private VIP box.
Eron wasn’t there anymore.
Like a man setting the board for something bigger.
This wasn’t the game.
This was the opening move.
Class Zero walked off the battlefield.