Aftermath

"Winner—Second Year Student Khyaal!" The referee announced, as Leo's body finally went limp.

The arena erupted.

A deafening, rapturous cheer tore through the air as the victorious fighter, bloodied and barely standing Khyaal, struggled to lift his fist in triumph.

However, before he could gloat, his knees buckled beneath him. His body swayed, and he collapsed onto one knee, panting heavily.

Khyaal had won.

But just barely.

His entire body screamed in agony, and his vision swam, the sheer blood loss making even breathing feel like a herculean task.

He had scraped by with this victory by the thinnest of margins, and the unconscious first-year junior lying beneath him had nearly taken him down.

A first-year.

A monarch-level talent, yes—but an untrained first-year.

*SIGHHH–*

Khyaal let out a slow, ragged breath, his massive frame trembling under the strain of his wounds.

That kid.

That damn kid.