The Underground Tournament Begins
Three days passed since the battle with Rehan.
Raghav hadn't played a single point since.
Not because of injury or exhaustion—but because of what Rehan said before leaving.
> "We're not the only ones playing this game."
Those words echoed louder than any victory.
He couldn't shake the image of Rehan mimicking other players' talents, including his own. If Bloodstring could do that—if other Relics existed, each with their own twisted powers—then how deep did this hidden world go?
The second emblem Rehan handed him rested in his hand now, cool and metallic. It was etched with two distinct court symbols—one gold, one crimson—intersecting at the center.
Raghav flipped it over.
On the back, one word had been engraved:
"Echelon."
He had a feeling it wasn't just the name of Rehan's academy anymore.
---
The location came by SMS:
"MIDNIGHT. LEVEL -2. ECHELON TRAINING CENTER. ENTRY ONLY WITH EMBLEM."
The Echelon Elite facility sat like a fortress on the outskirts of the city—high fences, private security, a full-size stadium, and rumored underground courts only accessible to "inner-circle" trainees. No press. No outsiders.
Raghav wore a hoodie and kept his head low. The emblem hung from his neck on a string, concealed under his shirt.
A hidden elevator behind the equipment room scanned the emblem and clicked open.
As he descended, the air changed. The lights dimmed. The walls gleamed with black steel and brushed gold. Finally, the doors slid open into a world he didn't expect.
A court.
No—an arena.
Bleachers carved from polished stone surrounded a gleaming, metallic tennis court beneath arcane light. Glowing runes lined the baseline and service boxes. The net shimmered with energy.
Dozens of players stood along the sidelines—most older, some wearing strange gear, eyes sharp, confident, dangerous.
At the far end, an announcer stood on a raised platform, flanked by a man in a crimson blazer with a Relic racket slung casually over his shoulder.
> Relic Holders.
Hunters.
The announcer's voice boomed across the chamber.
"Welcome… to the Underground Circuit of the Hidden Court."
---
"The rules are simple," the announcer said. "You fight. You win. You climb."
"But this round," he added with a wicked grin, "won't be a solo match."
He snapped his fingers. Spotlights swung across the court.
"Doubles Trial. First Blood Tier."
Gasps echoed through the arena.
Even Raghav flinched.
He hadn't played doubles since high school.
"Pairings are chosen at random. Survive your match, and you earn two Court Points and a Rune Upgrade. Lose… and your Relic will decide whether you walk out whole."
A translucent screen flickered into the air, listing names. Raghav's eyes snapped to his own.
> PAIRING 6: RAGHAV RAO + ??? VS. RAYDEN LI + IVANA STONE
His heart dropped.
His partner's name was blank.
A glitch?
No.
A test.
"Player Rao, your partner will be assigned by draw."
A nearby gate hissed open.
Out stepped a girl—tall, with an athletic build, wearing a black sleeveless top and white visor. Her posture was confident, her gaze icy. A scar ran diagonally across her exposed shoulder.
"Name's Mira," she said, not offering a hand. "I'll keep the net. Don't slow me down."
Raghav blinked. "Nice to meet you too."
"I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to win." She adjusted her grip on her racket—midnight-blue frame, swirling with faint wind patterns.
Another Relic.
Of course.
The announcer's voice rang again:
"Trial 6! ON COURT."
---
Rayden and Ivana entered with swagger—both wore crimson sashes across their wrists, marking them as First Blood Tier champions. Whispers from the crowd confirmed it.
"Rayden's serve is like a cannon."
"Ivana? She's an angle demon. Left-handed with no conscience."
Raghav and Mira took position. He nodded once toward her.
"Got your back."
She didn't smile. Just replied, "Let's earn that rune."
---
The match exploded into motion.
Rayden's serve was as advertised—a thunderous boom that almost knocked Raghav's racket out of his hand. But Mira was quick—light on her feet, slicing through the air like wind incarnate. Her reflexes were razor-sharp, her returns aggressive.
But Ivana was worse—she baited them with soft lobs, then punished openings with wicked cross-court winners.
Raghav began to understand.
This wasn't just tennis.
This was war.
The court shimmered. The Relics awakened.
Mira's racket left trails of wind as she moved—boosting her lateral speed, deflecting spin.
Raghav could feel the patterns again—the Devourer murmured with every volley.
> "Ivana drops her wrist just before faking a lob."
"Rayden's toss drifts when he's serving wide."
He passed the knowledge to Mira mid-point—short, sharp commands.
"Watch her elbow on slice!"
"Jump the line after Rayden's serve!"
She listened. Adjusted.
And by the fourth game, they had closed the gap.
4–4.
---
Raghav served with a new technique—blending a motion he'd taken from Arman with a backswing he'd "borrowed" from Rehan.
It wasn't legal.
But it worked.
They broke Ivana's serve in Game 9.
Then, serving for the match, Raghav dug deep. Mira took the net with calm confidence, cutting off Rayden's final volley with a clean smash.
Game, Set, Match: Rao & Mira.
The crowd roared.
The arena lit with golden light.
Raghav's Devourer absorbed the point and shimmered with a third rune.
Mira's racket flared once and hummed softly.
The announcer's voice thundered:
"PAIRING 6 ADVANCES. TRIAL PASSED."
---
As they exited, Mira turned to Raghav. For the first time, she smiled.
"You're not bad. For a newbie."
"You either," he said. "For a hurricane."
She smirked. "We'll need to stick together. Trust me—this was just the first layer."
"What's deeper?"
Mira glanced toward the golden gates ahead.
"The Relic Killers. The True Court. And maybe…" she looked at him carefully, "…the reason your racket exists at all."
---