The Iron Court Challenger

The Iron Court was unlike anything Raghav had seen.

Built like a gladiator's pit, it was lower than the spectator stands, with dark steel fencing lining the upper walls and rune-inscribed spotlights casting down like judgment. The ground was harder, the bounce sharper, and the energy—charged.

Raghav stood on one side of the court. Across from him, the Tier Two agent stepped out of the shadows.

He wore a long, maroon jacket, no academy emblem. His hair was jet-black, tied in a short knot. His gaze? Unreadable.

Name: Kael D'Souza

Title: Enforcer of the Third Ring

Relic: Ghosthand

The announcer's voice echoed above:

"Trial Match Initiated. Challenger: Raghav Rao, Tier One. Defender: Kael D'Souza, Tier Two. Conditions: Full Match. Rune Suppression: Off."

Raghav's eyes narrowed.

> No suppression means full Relic access… for both players.

Kael didn't warm up. He didn't bounce a ball. He just served.

And the moment he did, Raghav felt it.

Kael disappeared.

The ball slammed into the baseline. Raghav barely got his racket on it—returning weakly—and by the time he looked up, Kael was already at the net, finishing the point with a slice that barely kissed the ground.

The crowd murmured.

"Is he teleporting?"

"No. That's Ghosthand. It messes with perception—delays visual tracking."

Mira, watching from the stands, gritted her teeth.

> "It's a mind Relic. It scrambles time windows."

Raghav exhaled slowly.

So it begins.

---

The first three games were brutal.

Kael moved like a phantom—always just out of Raghav's predicted trajectory. He didn't just hit winners. He erased possibilities.

Each point felt like a trap.

> Step too early, and Kael's not there.

Step too late, and the ball's already past.

But the Devourer began to adjust.

> "Ghosthand creates visual delays. Don't trust your eyes. Trust patterns."

Raghav closed his eyes during the next rally—not fully, just enough to dull the reliance on sight.

He listened.

To the rhythm of Kael's footwork. The sound of ball impact. The slight distortion in the air when Kael moved.

And then he struck back.

A no-look backhand down the line.

15–0.

Kael's eyes sharpened.

"Interesting."

---

By the fifth game, the score was 3–2, Kael still leading, but slowing.

He wasn't used to opponents adapting mid-match.

Raghav could feel it: Kael's frustration.

He was relying more on illusion than technique now. His smirks turned into frowns. The swings sharper. The pace faster.

Raghav used it.

He baited Kael into overextending his "vanish" motion—and sent a forehand topspin lob clean over his head.

Break point. 3–3.

The crowd leaned forward.

From the back row, a man in a red cloak crossed his arms. One of the Twelve? A scout?

Mira noticed too.

> He's watching Raghav now. Carefully.

This is no longer a test. It's an audition.

---

Kael grunted in frustration. His Relic flared.

For the first time, his racket changed.

The Ghosthand lengthened—almost liquid-like—forming three phantom extensions from its grip. His next serve curved in three different directions before splitting mid-air.

Raghav's pupils dilated.

> Triple Vector Serve.

He guessed right.

Or maybe… the Devourer guided him.

He stepped left, dropped his center, and slammed a two-handed return straight up the gut.

Ace return.

5–4. Rao leads.

---

Final game.

Kael's ghost illusions were flickering now, misfiring. His confidence cracked. His aura dimmed.

But he had one last trick.

On match point, he served without a toss.

The ball materialized mid-air, warped into three, then six, spinning like spirals of smoke.

> Relic Overdrive.

Last-resort ability.

Raghav gritted his teeth.

"Not this time."

He didn't aim.

He just swung where the rhythm felt most real.

CRACK.

The sound silenced the court.

The real ball flew back—and Kael didn't move.

Game. Set. Match. Raghav Rao.

The crowd exploded.

Even the red-cloaked observer nodded once before vanishing into smoke.

---

As Kael staggered, drained, he looked at Raghav with a mixture of anger and something else—respect?

"You're not like the others," he muttered. "You don't just borrow talent."

He pointed at the Devourer.

"You become it."

Then he collapsed, and medics rushed in.

Raghav stood alone at center court, drenched in sweat, heart thudding like a war drum.

Above him, the emblem of the Iron Court glowed softly.

He had done it.

He had taken down a Tier Two agent.

And the Devourer… now pulsed with a fourth rune, fully lit.

---