Leo

The instant the bell rang, Rian moved.

No warm-up. No hesitation. Just a blur of shadow and motion across the arena floor, faster than anyone in the room could track. His foot hit the ground—and the air buckled around him.

Leo didn't even blink.

A jet of flame erupted in a controlled arc, intercepting Rian mid-dash and forcing him back. The floor sizzled where it landed. Most students stepped away from the glass.

"So he's fire type," I muttered. 

"It's more than fire," Iris said beside me. "He's controlling combustion. Heat, pressure, and ignition. Everything."

Leo stood with both hands relaxed at his sides, like he wasn't even trying. Flames coiled off his arms, and the heat warped the air around him. Despite this, his expression remained cold.

Rian, undeterred, cracked his knuckles and surged forward again—this time with feints. He moved low, struck high, kicked off a wall and came down from above. He was fast.

Leo was faster.

The moment Rian's blade came down, Leo caught it between his palms—barehanded—and twisted. Flame surged up his arms, spiraling into the blade and eating through its edge.

It snapped in half.

Rian blinked back, barely escaping a follow-up burst of fire. This time it wasn't a stream—it was a wave, thick and blinding.

He skidded across the ring floor, smoke trailing his shoes, one arm raised in defense. His coat was already half-singed.

No one said a word. Not even the instructor.

"Are they going to stop this?" I asked.

"No," Iris said flatly. "They want to see what Leo does when he's cornered. Only problem is—he never is."

Rian launched something—a throwing knife, maybe—but it melted before it left his hand. Leo didn't even lift a finger.

Then he moved.

One step. That's all it took.

The ring around him lit up in a spiral, and suddenly Rian was off his feet—lifted by a controlled explosion beneath him. Leo met him midair, hand raised. Fire condensed into a spear.

It should've ended there.

But Rian twisted, slipped under the spear, and landed rough. One knee buckled. He regained his composure, limping a bit. But he smiled.

"I'm not done."

"You are," Leo said simply.

The next blow didn't come from in front—it came from above. A contained pillar of flame, inverted, like the sun had decided to fall.

The room went white.

And when the light cleared, Rian lay smoking on the floor, breathing, but very still.

Leo stood over him, not even winded. The flames around him vanished like they were never there.

"Match over," Turner's voice said through the comm, quieter than usual.

I realized then that no one clapped. Not because it wasn't impressive—because it was too much. I overheard gossip like He almost killed him! Wow, another reminder why Leo was the head of the class. and He's a black band for a reason.

Leo walked off without a word.

I looked at Iris. "Remind me never to piss him off."

She gave a tight nod. "Might be a bit too late for that."