After leaving the arena, I immediately zeroed in on Chronos, marching toward him with one goal in mind, grilling him with every unanswered question I had. Because, yeah, I had fun. But fun doesn’t mean I’m just gonna ignore the fact that I had no clue what the hell was going on half the time.
“You knew exactly what this was, didn’t you?” I said, stepping in front of him.
Chronos yawned, stretching his arms behind his head like he hadn’t just thrown me into a high-speed survival game with no explanation.
“Oh?” he mused. “You mean the part where you were almost bludgeoned with a 2x4? Or the part where you emotionally destroyed your pursuer so badly he snapped said 2x4 over his knee?”
I squinted at him, “No, the damn RULES, what are they?”
Chronos smirked, “You looked like you were having fun.”
I crossed my arms, “Oh, I was. That’s not the point. The point is that I’d like to know what the hell I actually signed up for instead of piecing it together while running for my life.”
Chronos sighed dramatically like I was being the unreasonable one here. Still, after some relentless questioning (and maybe a little bit of guilt-tripping), I got him to spill the details.
Turns out, there was a system to this madness.
The first four rounds? Simple, just non-awakened pursuers, regular people who relied purely on skill, endurance, and brute strength to catch the competitors for 3 minutes.
But then? Round five. Round five was the real test, the qualifier for the semifinals.
“That’s where they throw in a Green-rank Ascendant,” Chronos explained, watching my expression carefully.
I frowned, “An actual Ascendant?”
“Yup.”
“And their whole job is to catch people?”
He nodded, “And to purge the ones who don’t belong.”
I exhaled slowly, processing that. That… made a lot of sense.
See, the earlier rounds had a lot of flukes, people who made it through on luck alone. Some were athletic but lacked strategy. Some had solid reflexes but no endurance. Some just got paired with the wrong pursuer and slipped through the cracks.
Round five was designed to fix that. The Green-rank Ascendant wasn’t just a tougher opponent, they were the filter. The “Executioner”. They existed to weed out the weak links. Because once round five ended, the competition changed entirely.
If you survived the Green-rank? The Gauntlet became a 1v1 matchup. Two competitors were paired—one as the runner, the other as the pursuer.
No more grace periods. No more non-awakened chasers. You were either fast enough to escape or strong enough to take your opponent down.
Chronos continued, “The only real rule from there? If you pin someone for three full seconds, you win.”
Three seconds. That didn’t sound like much. But if you’ve ever been grappled by someone stronger than you, three seconds is a lifetime. I owe Chronos that understanding when he put me in an armbar and just said, “Alright now get out.”
I rubbed my temple. “So let me get this straight, if I make it past round five, I either have to chase someone down or outrun someone who’s trying to choke me out for three seconds.”
Chronos grinned, “That’s the idea.”
“…Great.”
This was gonna get a lot worse before it got better. At least there was one silver lining, the rounds of the gauntlet weren’t back-to-back for me.
Since they only had one arena set up, it made sense that each match would take some significant time to reset and prepare. From what Chronos explained, this gauntlet was designed to last at least a couple of months.
Apparently, every Monday, each competitor had to do two runs. That meant I’d only be facing this insanity once a week. A small mercy. I was also extremely glad that school was ending in two weeks, because the idea of coming here right after class was not appealing in the slightest.
I could already picture it. Limping into class, barely able to keep my head up, only for some nosy classmate to lean over and whisper, "Dude, did you get into a fight?"
And I’d have to respond with, "No, I just got chased by an Ascendant with a 2x4 after I said he’d have an easier time chasing women if he talked to them first instead of running at them in a full-on sprint."
Yeah. Not great.
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling a slight twinge of frustration.
Another thing on my mind was the fact that Ella was apparently here today. I’m pretty good at finding people in a crowd—especially if I’ve already met them before. But for some reason, I hadn’t seen her at all since I got here. It was… a little annoying.
I was hoping to chat with her—not just because I was curious about what she wanted to discuss, but also because it would be nice to talk to someone I know.
Well, kind of know.
I let out a sigh, scanning the area once more. Shipping containers, high-rise platforms, scaffolding, narrow alleyways… I checked a few trees… Hey I had to check all my options, even if it was the first place I checked. No sign of a blonde elf anywhere.
“Looking for someone?” I turned to Chronos, who was watching me with mild amusement, one eyebrow raised.
I shrugged, playing it cool, “Just curious if someone’s hiding in the crowd,” I said, scanning the area again. “You know, in case I need to call out a certain someone for going all secretive on me.”
Chronos smirked, arms crossed, “Careful, you’re starting to sound like you care.”
I rolled my eyes, “I’m pretty sure I’m just curious.”
Chronos’s gaze flickered over my shoulder, “Then you might want to turn around.”
I blinked, then turned, and there she was. Leaning casually against a railing, arms crossed, her usual amused smirk in place, like she had been watching me the whole time with her trademark ponytail over her left shoulder.
But my eyes briefly flickered over her outfit, because apparently noble women have this exclusive ability, she managed to make something functional look effortlessly stylish.
Ella wore a cropped black top, the fabric form-fitting yet breathable, cutting off just above her midriff. Draped over it was a sleek, tactical shrug, zipped at the collar, leaving her shoulders partially exposed.
The detachable sleeves, held together by adjustable straps, gave her a flexible, urban-combat aesthetic, like something designed for both movement and intimidation.
Instead of leggings, she opted for loose-fitting black sweatpants, cinched at the waist with a drawstring. The material was light and unrestrictive, perfect for quick footwork while still giving her an effortless, relaxed confidence. The slightly baggy fit added an extra layer of mobility, allowing her to move freely without sacrificing comfort.
On her feet were a pair of low-profile running shoes, their grippy soles perfect for navigating the chaos of the gauntlet. And strapped around her waist was a compact utility belt, holding a water bottle and a few essentials, just enough to be practical without weighing her down.
She looked ready for anything that would make her stretch her legs. Like someone who could vanish into a sprint at a moment’s notice, but right now, she was standing perfectly still, watching me with that ever-present mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Found you.” Of course, she was watching me the whole time. Or at least, she was pretending she had been. I narrowed my eyes slightly. I had so many questions. Still, I started making my way toward her, noting that Chronos didn’t follow.
When I glanced back, he was just standing there, nodding his head knowingly while giving me a wink.
…Trying to play wingman, huh?
I sighed. Of course, he was.
After I reached her, I tilted my head, hands in my pockets.
“So are you ‘fashionably late,’ or do you have a private room since you’re in a sect?”
Ella arched an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curving into a small smirk, “Is that how you greet your date?”
I gave her a flat look, “Really?” I gestured toward the arena, where competitors were still running, dodging, and getting tackled into the dirt. “You think this… is a date? I may not be rich, but I have some class.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, amusement glinting behind them, “So you wouldn’t want a date where all that happens is action and sweaty palms?”
I stared at her. Then, very slowly, I said, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t phrase it like that on purpose.”
She smiled. She absolutely did that on purpose.
Ella sighed, crossing her arms, “To answer your question, yes, I did have a private room, but I turned it down. I spent roughly fifteen minutes trying to get them to give up.”
I smirked, “Oh? So you’re one of those noble girls that doesn’t like the attention her family attracts.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, “Even though your phrasing is on the nose, no, I don’t.”
She took a slow breath before I could press further, “And I know what you’re going to ask, that can wait until tomorrow.”
I tilted my head, “So you’re going to keep me waiting, huh?” My smirk widened, “If you keep this up, I’m just gonna have to start guessing and wait for a reaction.”
Ella narrowed her gaze, lips twitching as if fighting a smirk of her own, “What if I try to fool you by feigning a reaction?”
I nodded immediately, “You could, yes. But if you just so happen to give a reaction to anything, intentional or not, I’m going to hold it over your head until you spill every detail regarding it.”
Her brows lifted slightly, “That… doesn’t seem terrible.”
I chuckled, “You say that now, but once you accidentally react to me saying something like—” I paused, searching for a scenario that was just plausible enough to mess with her.
“—You only agreed to date me because you’re already engaged and want to have some actual dating experience in your life before you’re stuck in a life of nobility.”
Ella’s expression didn’t change so I pushed further, “And after that, you’ll tell me everything about how this high elf named…” I paused, thinking quickly.
“…Gale… isn’t the most appealing person to you, and you want to have some control over your life.”
I flashed her a grin, about to make some joke about how ridiculous that sounded, but then I actually looked at her. Ella was frozen, flushed red, and staring at me with wide eyes. Her ears, oh my her ears are flicking and they are beet red. So the prophecies were true.
I blinked, “…Are… are you serious?”
She immediately averted her gaze.
Oh. Oh, this was real.
An impish grin spread across my face as I took a slow, deliberate step forward, “Ohhhh, I see now.”
Ella stiffened slightly, but I kept going, closing the distance just enough to loom over her, my smirk widening, “I see, I see…” I murmured, tilting my head. “I’m simply just an outlet for your frustrations.”
She swallowed, her gaze flickering to the side. Oh, she so wasn’t ready for me to latch onto this.
I placed a hand over my heart, letting out a dramatic sigh before wiping away a fake tear, “And here I thought you might have actually caught feelings.”
Ella’s eyes snapped back to me, her face burning red now. I expected a snarky comeback. Maybe a flustered deflection. Instead, she clicked her tongue, turned on her heel, and started walking away.
I blinked, “Hey, where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
“Aw, come on! I’m just getting started!” I grinned, keeping pace beside her. “So tell me, is ‘Gale’ a total snob or just emotionally unavailable?”
She whipped around so fast I barely had time to react before she jabbed a finger at my chest, “Rai.”
I paused.
She took a deep breath, her voice dangerously calm, “If you don’t drop this, I will personally enter your next gauntlet match as your pursuer.”
I squinted at her, “…You can do that?”
Her lips curled into a smirk, “You wanna find out?”
Damn.
I thought about it.
Then I thought about how much of a pain in the ass that would be. She was wearing a bind on her wrist so clearly she’s awakened and she would take it off during the run and just beat me up.
“…Fine,” I sighed, waving a hand. “I’ll let it go… for now.”
Ella rolled her eyes, turning away, “Good.”
But as she walked, I leaned slightly forward, just loud enough for her to hear, “…But I’m totally right, aren’t I?”
Her shoulders tensed, ears twitched, and I grinned at her.
Oh yeah, I’m going to enjoy this.
After watching Ella walk away, I let out a slow breath, shaking my head slightly. That had escalated way faster than I expected. I wasn’t entirely sure what I had just stumbled into, but it was clear that I had hit a nerve. And for someone as composed as Ella, that was saying a lot.
With that in mind, I turned back toward Chronos, who, unsurprisingly, was waiting for me with an infuriatingly smug expression. He looked like a man who had just won a bet that only he knew about.
I raised an eyebrow, "You heard everything, yes?"
Chronos nodded, his grin only widening, "Every word."
Of course, he did.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my head, "Then would it be best to assume you're somewhat familiar with what I’m assuming is her actual situation?"
Chronos tilted his head, rolling one shoulder as if considering his words, “Kind of.”
I squinted, "Kind of?"
He shrugged, rocking back on his heels like he wasn’t about to drop some critical information he could have told me earlier.
“You see, sects and family clans each have their own unique traditions regarding marriage. Some couldn’t care less who their members marry. Others?” He smirked, “They marry for power and prestige depending on how high up in the hierarchy they are.”
He gestured loosely in the direction Ella had just walked off in, “Your girlfriend is clearly a part of the latter.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms, “Girlfriend? That’s a stretch.”
Chronos snorted, giving me a pointed look, “Is it?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but then I thought about it. The whole tracking me down and calling me for a date thing. The suspiciously fast response when I guessed her engagement situation. The fact that she didn’t deny it, just got flustered and left.
Damn it.
I sighed, “Even if she was interested, she clearly has some bigger issues on her plate.”
Chronos hummed, "Oh, no doubt. But that doesn't mean you can't have fun with her in the meantime."
I glanced at him, “You really are the worst mentor.”
He grinned, “And yet, here you are.”
The last thing I needed was some high-ranking noble deciding to chase me to the ends of the earth because I was flirting with his fiancée.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose before prompting the obvious question to Chronos, “Wouldn’t it also be possible for the fiancé to come after me because I’m involved with her in this way?”
Chronos didn’t even hesitate, “Oh yeah, obviously.”
I blinked, “…That was fast.”
He shrugged, “Well, yeah. High-ranking sect marriages aren’t just ‘oh, here’s a ring, now we’re a couple.’ They’re full-blown political maneuvers. If the fiancé thinks you’re interfering, you’ll either get a very official, very polite warning…”
He smirked, “…or you’ll get challenged to a duel with a guy who’s spent his entire life being groomed into a combat prodigy.”
I stared, “…Right. And you’re just casually telling me this now?”
Chronos grinned, completely unfazed, “Well, yeah. You already pissed her off. Might as well make sure you’re prepared.”
I ran a hand down my face, “And let me guess—there’s no way to know which reaction I’ll get.”
“Nope.”
“…Cool. Fantastic. Love that for me.”
Chronos patted my shoulder, “Welcome to politics, kid.”
After my enlightening conversation with Chronos (read: completely unnecessary stress dump), I decided to head up to the stands and watch some matches.
If I was going to get through this gauntlet, I needed to see how other people handled it.
Also, I wasn’t about to let Chronos sit there with his self-satisfied smirk any longer.
The stands were packed, filled with competitors, former participants, and some spectators who were just here for the carnage.
I found a decent spot at the top, leaned forward, and turned my attention to the match below.
The next competitor, a lanky guy built like a gymnast, stood at the starting mark.
His opponent? A broad-shouldered tank of a dude who looked like he bench-pressed small horses for fun.
I hummed, “Alright. This could go two ways.”
Chronos, who had somehow managed to materialize next to me despite me definitely not inviting him, tilted his head, “Let’s hear it.”
I tapped my fingers on the railing, “If the gymnast is smart, he’s going to rely purely on evasion. High ground, quick turns, making use of gaps his opponent can’t fit through.”
“And if he’s not smart?”
I sighed, “Then he’s going to try to ‘win’ by tiring the guy out. Which would be fine, if the other guy didn’t look like he has the stamina of a marathon runner.”
The airhorn blared and Gymnast immediately went for the latter. He darted ahead, weaving between obstacles, but he wasn’t fully committing to escaping. Instead, he was trying to wear his opponent down, constantly baiting him into burning energy.
At first, it looked solid. The Brawler was clearly getting annoyed, swinging for him whenever he got close, wasting effort.
But then… I leaned forward, “…Yeah, no. He’s making a mistake.”
Chronos smirked, “What mistake?”
I pointed, “He’s assuming the Brawler is burning more energy than he is. But look at his movement, his pursuer isn’t sprinting. He’s pacing himself. Meanwhile, the Gymnast is overworking himself for every small dodge.”
Almost like clockwork, the inevitable happened.
Gymnast miscalculated a landing, stumbled, and in that split second. Brawler lunged forward, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him into a platform.
Three seconds. Game over.
The airhorn blared, signaling the capture.
I leaned back, shaking my head, “Called it.”
Chronos chuckled, “Miscalculation kills, huh?”
I sighed, “More like bad strategy. If he just committed to running instead of trying to play smart without the endurance to back it up, he’d have been fine.”
Chronos nodded approvingly, “Not bad, Rai.”
I ignored him, already watching the next match. This one was almost painful to watch.
The runner, a cocky, short-haired guy with a flashy blue jacket, was showboating before the match even started. Arms stretched lazily behind his head, smirking at the crowd like he had already won.
His opponent? A quiet, unassuming girl who looked like she just drank an entire pot of coffee and wasn’t thrilled about it. I immediately knew how this was going to end.
“What do you think?” Chronos asked, already entertained.
I exhaled, “He’s dead.”
The airhorn blared.
Rookie took off, but in the most predictable, least efficient way possible.
He vaulted unnecessarily, did a fancy spin off a ledge, and overall acted like he was starring in his own action movie.
His opponent? She didn’t chase him. She just moved. Fast. Precise. No wasted effort. She cut corners perfectly, hopped gaps without hesitation, and gained ground without ever seeming rushed. Within ten seconds, she was right behind him.
By the time he realized it, she had already launched herself forward, tackled him mid-air, and pinned him to the floor. Game over.
I sighed, “Absolutely brutal.”
Chronos grinned, “People never learn, huh?”
I shrugged, “If you’re gonna be flashy, at least be fast enough to back it up.”
The match ended, and I leaned back again, shaking my head.
This was better than I expected. Watching these matches gave me actual insight into what worked, what didn’t, and how some people completely screwed themselves over.
I was about to focus on the next match when the announcer’s voice boomed through the arena.
“AND NEXT UP—ELLA VEL’AERIS!”
I blinked.
Wait.
I turned toward the starting area, and sure enough, there she was.
Ella stood near the entrance to the gauntlet, rolling her shoulders, stretching her arms, completely at ease. She never told me her last name so I didn’t know if it was actually her.
Then, as if she sensed me watching, she suddenly turned her head, locking eyes with me.
Oh?
For a second, I expected her to give me some cocky smirk, maybe a teasing glare. Instead, she simply lifted a hand and waved.
…Huh?
I barely had time to process the motion before I heard the shift in the crowd. A hushed murmur. A few scattered whispers. Then, in one synchronized motion, half the crowd turned to look at me.
…What?
I blinked. Then, deciding to play along, I slowly turned around— Only to be met with a wall. A solid, unmoving wall.
Oh, come on.
Chronos let out a wheeze, barely holding back laughter.
I exhaled sharply, turning back to see Ella smirking, her expression just amused enough to tell me she did that on purpose. I sighed, rubbing my temples. She’s doing this to get back at me huh? Well just you wait, I’m going to get you back for this.
Somehow, I was the main character in a story I wasn’t even writing. After this thought, I just looked off into an imaginary camera and narrowed my eyes.
I let out a slow breath, shaking my head as I turned my focus back to the arena. Fine, she wanted to mess with me? I’m gonna ignore it, for now.
I leaned forward, arms resting on the railing as the airhorn blared and Ella took off. And immediately, I was impressed. No, scratch that. I was genuinely captivated.
Ella moved with an astounding amount of grace, like she was born for this. Every step, every pivot, every vault over an obstacle was fluid, not a single wasted movement. Most runners I had seen hesitated before making a big leap. They’d second-guess a jump, adjust their weight too late, or take extra steps that slowed them down. Ella didn’t.
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She knew her body’s limits perfectly and moved like she had already memorized the entire course.
Her pursuer, a stocky, muscular guy who was clearly used to brute-forcing his way through obstacles, was fast, but every time he got close, Ella would slip through a tight gap, twist around a beam, or cut a sharp corner in a way that he simply couldn’t follow.
And just like that, she owned the course. Her movements were precise, effortless, like she wasn’t just running but flowing through the obstacles. Where most runners would have stumbled, hesitated, or taken extra steps, she didn’t. Every decision was made before she even landed.
She vaulted over a barrier, twisting mid-air to land in a sprint without losing even a fraction of momentum. The moment her foot touched the ground, she angled her body, already anticipating the next move.
Her pursuer? He was fast, but he was fighting the course.
Ella, on the other hand, moved with it.
When she reached a narrow scaffolding, she didn’t just squeeze through, she twisted her body sideways in mid-stride, slipping through the gap like it was nothing. When she hit a wall jump section, she barely even looked, her foot landed on the ledge, her arms swung once, and she was already over it.
She wasn’t running, she was dancing through the gauntlet.
Her steps were measured, every motion leading seamlessly into the next. Where others would climb, she would launch. Where others would sprint, she would glide.
And then, her pursuer made a mistake. He tried to cut her off at the next turn, assuming she’d take the obvious route. But Ella? She must have sensed it before it even happened.
At the last possible second, she twisted her body, gripping a hanging pipe just overhead, and swung herself clean over his head in one smooth motion.
The crowd gasped. I blinked.
Oh. That was clean.
She landed gracefully, barely breaking stride before kicking into another burst of speed.
Her pursuer, however, was completely thrown off. He stumbled, having put all his momentum into a chase that was already over.
The airhorn blared again, giving Ella the win.
The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, and she, completely unfazed, just flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave a slight wave before walking off the course like this was just another workout.
I sat back, exhaling, “…Yeah, alright. That was kind of ridiculous.”
Chronos chuckled next to me, “You look impressed.”
I just shook my head. Impressed? Yeah. But more than that? I was curious.
It wasn’t just speed, it was efficiency. I felt my pulse quicken, an unexpected thrill creeping up my spine.
She’s good. Like, actually good. I smirked, leaning even further over the railing. Part of me wanted to test her. To see if she was only good at running, or if she could handle being the one giving chase.
For a split second, the thought of requesting a match against her flashed through my mind, but I stopped myself.
Not yet.
Because if I was going to test Ella, it wasn’t going to be on a whim. It was going to be when she least expected it. Still, damn, she was fun to watch.
After her match, I decided to stick around for a few more rounds. There was always a chance I’d see something worth noting, a new strategy, a weird technique, or even just a glimpse at future competition.
Also, I wasn’t in any rush to leave. As I sat back, I turned to Chronos, about to ask if there were any other competitors worth keeping an eye on. But he was gone.
I frowned, "Huh."
Looking around, I couldn’t spot him anywhere. Chronos didn’t just disappear without reason—well, actually, he did, but it was usually to do something annoying. So I just figured he was off doing… Chronos things.
Not my problem.
I shifted my focus back to the matches, until something caught my eye. Or rather, someone.
Ella was approaching me, and she was not doing it subtly.
She stopped at the edge of the stands, placing a hand above her eyes like she was scanning the crowd, her other hand on her hip.
She turned her head dramatically, searching as if she didn’t already know exactly where I was sitting.
I just watched, amused and waiting. Then, after the overly theatrical search, she “spotted” me. A beaming smile spread across her lips, bright and intentional, before she made her way toward me.
I just stared, deadpan. This was so unnecessary, and yet, she pulled it off effortlessly. She walked up the stands with purpose, each step measured, confident, like she was completely in control of the attention she was gathering.
When she finally reached me, she didn’t just sit down. No. She took the spot to my left, a little closer than I was expecting. Close enough that her thigh was barely an inch away from mine. She just sat there, like it was her rightful place.
I blinked.
Then slowly turned to look at her. She didn’t say anything at first. Just that same knowing smirk, like she was waiting for me to react first.
I sat there for a second, just staring at her, letting the weight of the situation settle in. She had planned this. Every step. Every calculated glance. Every little motion designed to catch attention. And now?
She was sitting way too close, practically staking a claim, and judging by the not-so-subtle whispers I could already hear, everyone noticed.
I sighed, leaning back slightly, resting an arm over the seat behind me, “So, just how public are you going for?”
Ella’s smirk deepened, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement, “Oh? Not even going to deny it? That’s no fun.”
I tilted my head slightly, my own smirk forming, “What’s the point? You’ve already won.” I gestured vaguely to the crowd. “I can hear people speculating from here. Might as well get ahead of it.”
She hummed in mock thoughtfulness, casually crossing her legs as if she hadn’t just put me in a political death trap, “Well, that depends.”
I raised an eyebrow, “On?”
“How much fun you make this for me.”
I let out a short laugh, shaking my head, “Right. So I’m not just a tool, I’m an entertainment device now.”
She placed a hand over her chest, gasping dramatically, “Oh, don’t be so cruel, Rai-Bear. I’m merely… making use of my resources.”
I flinched.
Nope. No, no, no. Absolutely not.
I immediately held up a hand, “Okay, no. Stop. We’re not doing that.”
Ella blinked, her amusement flickering into mild curiosity, “Not doing what?”
“That. That nickname. Anything else, I beg you.”
Her smirk returned full force, “Oh? And why is that?”
I ignored the question entirely, “Just call me something else. Literally anything else.”
She tilted her head, tapping a finger against her chin, clearly entertaining herself with the possibilities, “Hmm… Raidy?”
I stared, “That’s just as bad.”
“Rai-bolt?”
“…Sounds like a discount superhero.”
She snickered, “Rai-cube?”
“What does that even mean?”
She grinned, “I don’t know, but I like it.”
I let out a suffering sigh, rubbing my temples, “Look, just… pick something normal. Please.”
Ella leaned in slightly, voice lowering in amusement, “You’re not going to tell me why you hate Rai-Bear, are you?”
I met her gaze dead-on, “Nope.”
She chuckled, “Then I’ll just have to guess.”
I sighed again, already regretting everything, “I really should’ve just walked away when I had the chance.”
She hummed, “Yes, but this is so much more fun.”
I let my head fall back against the seat, staring at the sky.
Yeah, this is only going to get worse.
Ella and I shifted our attention back to the course as the next match was announced. The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, introducing the next competitor:
“NEXT UP—LYRA ELDENWOOD!”
The name alone made half the crowd stir. A moment later, she stepped onto the course, and I immediately understood why. She wasn’t just built for this kind of event, she lived in it.
Lyra was a wood elf, and everything about her screamed adaptability. Her tanned skin hinted at long hours spent outdoors, and her honey blonde hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, kept out of her face. Her blue eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over the course like she was already mapping out every possible path.
Her outfit was simple but efficient, a black sports bra, form-fitting and designed to keep her cool without restricting movement, and dark green leggings that hugged her athletic frame, made from lightweight material.
Although what really caught my attention and, apparently, Ella’s as well, was the fact that she was completely barefoot.
I tilted my head, watching as she shifted her weight slightly, testing the feel of the ground beneath her.
Ella spoke first, "Well, that's… interesting."
I nodded, "Not what I expected."
Lyra flexed her toes slightly, rolling onto the balls of her feet before settling back onto her heels. She looked completely unbothered by the rough surfaces of the arena.
She wasn’t just used to running barefoot, perhaps she preferred it.
"Maybe she's just making a statement," Ella mused, her voice carrying that same amused lilt she always had. "Or maybe she thinks shoes slow her down."
"Or she's just that confident in her footing." I tapped my fingers on my knee. "She’s a wood elf. If she grew up in the wilds, she’s probably used to running on worse terrain than this."
Ella hummed, as if considering something. Then spoke, "Alright, Lightning Bug, place your bets. Think she wins this round?"
I blinked.
Then turned my head slightly toward her, "...Lightning Bug?"
She grinned, "No good?"
I sighed, "Try again."
Ella snickered, but didn’t push it further.
Instead, we both turned our focus back to Lyra, who was now shifting into her starting stance.
The airhorn blared and she vanished.
Lyra exploded forward, and I instantly knew she wasn’t just good. She was 100% built for this. She wasn’t just fast as she was natural.
Every step was soundless, her bare feet gripping the course in a way that gave her inhuman control over her movement. She ran low, her center of gravity perfectly controlled as she weaved through the obstacles like she was born in this environment.
Her pursuer, a well-built guy with a power-based running style, was no slouch, but it didn’t matter. He was chasing a ghost. She barely even vaulted, instead, she used the environment itself to maintain her speed, kicking off walls at just the right angles, bouncing off railings, barely even touching the ground before launching into her next move.
Ella let out a low whistle, "Alright, I take it back. She’s not making a statement, she’s making a point."
I nodded, grinning, "No wasted movement, no lost speed. She's using everything around her to keep momentum."
Ella chuckled, "You sound impressed, Thunder Pup."
I side-eyed her, "Try again."
She just grinned, clearly having too much fun with this. Back in the arena, Lyra’s pursuer was getting desperate, and that’s when I noticed something else.
She wasn’t just dodging. She was reading him.
Most runners just focused on avoiding their pursuer. They reacted, adjusted, and ran. But Lyra? She was studying him. She led him into traps he didn’t even realize were traps.
She’d pretend to go one way, baiting him into overcommitting, only to pivot at the last second and send him crashing into a railing.
She wasn’t only playing defense. She was actively making him waste his energy.
Ella exhaled, "That's actually kind of cruel."
I smirked, "Oh, she’s playing a completely different game."
Her opponent tried one final lunge, but she had already anticipated it. At the last moment, she twisted her body, let him sail past her, and lightly tapped his back as he stumbled forward.
A silent statement.
The airhorn blared—Lyra had won.
Ella leaned back, stretching, "Welp. That guy's confidence is probably shattered."
I chuckled, "Yeah, she broke him mentally more than physically."
She turned to me, smirking, "Think you could beat her, Sparky?"
I sighed, "Try again."
She laughed, but then turned her gaze back to Lyra, who was calmly walking off the course, completely unfazed, like she didn’t just humiliate a guy in front of a full crowd.
I watched her go, tilting my head slightly. She was dangerous. Not just fast, but smart. If I had to run against her… That was going to be a problem.
"Why are you grinning, Storm?"
I turned, raising an eyebrow at Ella as she leaned in slightly, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her golden eyes.
"Keep looking at other women like that," she mused, "I might get jealous."
I blinked, then instinctively brought a hand to my mouth, and sure enough, she was right. I was grinning.
Damn.
I turned to her, ignoring the jealousy comment and instead focusing on something far more important.
"Why do you keep correlating the nicknames with something regarding lightning or electricity?"
She blinked, as if the answer was obvious, "Oh? Do you not know the meaning of your own name?" She shook her head slightly, sighing. "I thought humans liked to have meaning in their names."
I scoffed, "I know what my name means. But you’d be disappointed to hear why I was actually named it."
Ella tilted her head, curiosity piqued, "Really? And why were you named Raiden, then?"
I scratched the back of my head, debating for a second whether or not I should actually tell her.
Then, with a sigh, I admitted, "My dad… he’s a big Mortal Kombat fan."
Her brows furrowed, “I don’t understand. Why would your father be a fan of a fight to the death? And how does the name Raiden come into play?”
I stared at her. Then, the realization hit me all at once. She doesn’t know. She thinks I’m talking about actual mortal combat.
I sputtered out a laugh, unable to stop myself. I was still laughing, shaking my head as Ella sat there, completely lost in my amusement.
She narrowed her eyes, "What’s so funny?"
I waved a hand, trying to catch my breath, "You. Thinking my dad named me after an actual fight to the death."
Her expression didn’t change, “…Is that not what happened?”
I sighed, rubbing my temples, "No, Ella. Mortal Kombat is a video game. A very famous one. My dad named me after one of the characters—Raiden, the god of thunder."
She tilted her head, “So… your name came from a fictional god?”
"Yep."
“…Because your father liked this game?”
"Correct."
She blinked slowly, as if trying to process the sheer human stupidity of it all, “…That’s ridiculous.”
I shrugged, "Probably. But hey, I think it’s cool."
Ella scoffed, "I don’t understand why humans waste time on things like this."
I smirked, "Oh? You don’t indulge in any human entertainment?"
She lifted her chin slightly, giving me a haughty look, “I prefer to invest my time in more meaningful activities.”
I leaned back, grinning, "Oh yeah? Like what? Sitting in a candlelit room while reading ancient texts? Practicing a harp under the full moon? Hosting fancy tea parties and judging commoners from a balcony?"
She sulked instantly, puffing her cheeks, “That’s a stereotype.”
I chuckled, "You didn’t say I was wrong, though."
Ella crossed her arms, clearly about to argue, but I wasn’t done. I decided to take a wild shot in the dark.
I reached for my phone, unlocking it with a casual swipe, pretending to check something.
Then, in the most offhanded voice I could manage, I muttered, "Huh. Didn’t expect Lee Hyun-Jae to die in today’s episode."
There was a beat of silence. Then out of nowhere, “WHAT?!?"
Ella nearly jumped at me, eyes going wide with panic. She grabbed my shirt and shook me back and forth as she spoke, “No, no, no, I haven’t seen it yet—”
She froze mid-sentence. Her mouth still slightly open, panic still in her green eyes, realization slowly dawning over her face.
I didn’t even have to look at her. I just locked my phone, turned to her slowly, and let a full-blown impish grin spread across my face. Ella Vel’aeris, high noble elf, was fully exposed.
Her face burned crimson in real-time, “…You… tricked me.”
I nodded, smug as hell, “Yep.”
She covered her blushing face with both hands, groaning, "I hate you."
I leaned in slightly, “So, how long have you been a K-drama enthusiast, hmm?”
She whipped her head away, refusing to answer. Oh, this was pure gold. I’m never letting her live this down.
After watching a few more matches, I decided it was time to head out.
I pulled out my phone, quickly shooting Chronos a text.
After hitting send, I pushed myself off my seat and stretched.
I turned to Ella, who was still sitting next to me, arms crossed, her expression unreadable, "Alright, I’m heading out."
She didn’t respond. Instead, she turned her head away, her lips pressed into a small, stubborn pout, as if she didn’t wish to speak to me.
I arched an eyebrow, watching her for a second before shrugging, “Suit yourself.”
Without another word, I made my way down the stands, weaving past the remaining spectators. I had barely stepped out of the stands when I heard it, the rushed sound of footsteps behind me.
Then I hear from behind me, “HEY!”
I turned just in time to see Ella striding toward me, her usual composure slipping ever so slightly.
I smirked, "You rang?"
She came to a stop, hesitating for just a second before crossing her arms, “You aren’t gonna say anything?”
I raised an eyebrow, "I did."
I gestured vaguely back toward the stands, "I said, 'Alright, I’m heading out' So I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Her ears twitched. Just the slightest movement, but I saw it.
Damn it. That’s cute.
She quickly cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at me, "I’ll… I’ll see you later then…"
Her voice was quieter this time, and as she spoke, she absentmindedly twirled a lock of her ponytail around her fingers. I tilted my head slightly, watching the way the stray strands curled around her fingertips. A nervous habit?
Interesting.
I decided not to press her on it.
Instead, I grinned and took a step backward, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t miss me too much.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. I turned on my heel, heading toward the parking lot, still smirking to myself.
Ella Vel’aeris, stubborn, sharp-tongued, cool and collected. She was actually kind of bad at hiding when she was flustered, I'm definitely going to remember that.
When I got home, the house was quiet, aside from the soft hum of the TV in the living room. Dad was sitting on the couch, half-watching whatever show was on, a bag of chips resting on his lap.
I walked in, stopping just beside the couch, “Dad.”
His eyes didn’t leave the screen, “Mm.”
I hesitated for half a second, then exhaled through my nose, “I need your advice.”
Instantly, he grabbed the remote and muted the TV. His expression didn’t change. The air shifted. This was serious.
He turned to me, posture straightening, the energy in the room now tense and focused.
“Talk to me.”
I inhaled. Paused.
Then, without looking away, I said, “I have a date tomorrow.”
Silence.
Dad slowly set the bag of chips down. Then, with zero hesitation, he stood up, walked toward me, and locked eyes with unwavering intensity.
I stepped forward, and without a word, we dapped each other up.
A single, firm handshake, the kind that transcended language, filled with understanding, acknowledgment, and silent respect.
Then, after a moment, he nodded, "Good. Now sit down. We have work to do."
I smirked, "Yes, sir."
I had come for guidance, therefore my father shall deliver.
I sat down across from Dad, still feeling the weight of the handshake. That wasn’t just a casual dap, that was generational knowledge being transferred. A father recognizing that his son was stepping into new territory.
“So,” I said, leaning forward, elbows on my knees. “What should I do?”
Dad cracked his knuckles, settling into advisor mode, "Alright. First, tell me the plan. What’s the date?”
“Froyo.”
He paused. Then slowly nodded, “Safe. Casual. Can’t go wrong with frozen yogurt. Plus you’re just fifteen it shouldn’t be anything so elaborate for the first date. You’ll intimidate them that way.”
I gestured vaguely, “That’s what I was thinking.”
“But—” He pointed at me, “A casual date still requires effort. You can’t just show up looking like you’re about to hit the gym.”
I frowned, "What’s wrong with how I dress?"
Dad gave me a long, knowing look. Then he gestured toward my room, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I opened my closet, already feeling mildly defensive. Dad stepped inside, crossing his arms as he took a long, slow look at my wardrobe.
Silence… then he sighed… deeply.
A sigh filled with disappointment. With concern. With the weight of a thousand failed fashion choices.
“…Son.”
I closed my eyes, “Don’t say it.”
“Son.”
"I know."
He turned to me, looking almost pained, "Your entire closet is just hoodies, joggers, and training gear."
I rubbed the back of my head, “…I mean, technically, that’s not—”
“You don’t own a single real outfit.”
“…That’s—”
“Do you have a button-up?”
I hesitated, “…Yes?”
“What color?”
“…Black.”
He let out a long, exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We’re fixing this. Immediately.”
"I’m sorry for being such a disappointment." Dad just patted my back, the silent acknowledgment of a man who had accepted the burden of his son’s tragic wardrobe choices.
What am I suppose to do? After losing all that weight and gaining muscle all of my old clothes no longer fit me. All I have left is the athletic wear I sto- borrowed from Chronos.
Without another word, he pulled out his phone and made a call.
I crossed my arms, watching as he waited a few seconds, then spoke, “Hey honey, are you still at Rena’s place? Having fun? That’s good.”
His tone was casual at first, but then, "So, I called because I need to spend some money tomorrow…”
A pause. Then his expression flattened slightly, "What? No, I know I’m working—" He sighed. "No, that’s not—"
He glanced at me, "Rai has a date tomorrow, and he needs—"
Suddenly, his eyebrow shot up then silence.
I watched as he pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at the screen in confusion.
“…Hello?”
I frowned. Did she just hang up on him? Then I heard it. A low rumbling in the distance. Like thunder, but closer. Faster.
I turned toward my window and froze. Outside, barreling toward the house at a speed no human should be able to reach, was my mother. Moving like a woman possessed, eyes locked onto the house, her expression filled with pure, unfiltered excitement.
My stomach dropped, “…Oh no.”
Dad smirked, sliding his phone back into his pocket like a man who had just escaped a battlefield unscathed.
"You’re on your own, kid."
I whipped my head toward him, “Woah, woah, woah this whole operation was your idea.”
He shrugged, completely unbothered, “It was. Until I asked your mother why I needed to spend some money.”
I narrowed my eyes, “And?”
He sighed, as if mourning his own survival instincts, “Even if I found a way to lie about it, there’s no way she wouldn’t have found out eventually. And the moment she did find out? If I had kept it from her?” He looked me dead in the eye. “My life would be on the line, Rai.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, then sighed in defeat. I had lost this battle before it even started.
And then a blur, a sudden gust of wind, and the next thing I saw, my mother sliding past my bedroom door at unnatural speeds.
I barely had time to register it before she grabbed onto the doorframe mid-slide, swinging herself back into the room with inhuman precision. She landed on her feet, staring at me, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling as if she had just sprinted across the country.
“Why…” She panted, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “Why didn’t you tell me… my precious Rai…”
An immense pressure settled over me, the kind of overwhelming maternal energy that could break lesser men.
And then, with actual tears forming in the corners of her eyes, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL YOUR MOMMA YOU GOT A GIRLFRIEND!?”
I flinched.
She looked genuinely heartbroken. Like I had betrayed her in the deepest way possible.
“…Mom.” I raised a hand, trying to de-escalate. “First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend—”
“DON’T LIE TO ME.”
The walls shook. Dad had already walked out of the room, humming to himself like a man who knew better than to get involved.
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t getting out of this alive.
After what felt like a lifetime of emotional damage, I finally got my mom to calm down. She sat on my bed, still sniffling, dabbing at her puffy eyes with a tissue like I had just returned from war and failed to write home.
I sighed, leaning against my desk, “So… do you get it now?”
She let out a long breath, nodding, “Yes, I understand.”
Then she narrowed her eyes, her maternal instincts flaring back up at full strength, “I don’t trust her.”
I shrugged, “I don’t either, which is why I’m not emotionally invested.”
I had briefed my mom on some of the details. Not all the details. I didn’t lie to her, I just didn’t tell her the entire truth.
What did I say?
Simple.
- I told her I met a girl at the martial arts competition.
- We made a bet, if I won, she’d go on a date with me.
- I won, so now she’s keeping her end of the deal.
- I then found out she only agreed because she was trying to get a guy off her back to enjoy a little more freedom.
That’s all true. What’s that? Did I forget to mention a few small details?
What do you mean I didn’t tell her she was from a sect?
What do you mean I didn’t tell her she was a high elf?
What do you mean I didn’t say anything about the guy being her fiancé?
What on earth could you possibly mean? I am just a silly goose who tends to forget things.
Mom let out a deep sigh, rubbing her temples, “You need clothes.”
I blinked, "Wow. That transition was seamless."
She ignored my sarcasm, standing up with purpose, “Seriously, Rai. I checked your closet. I had hope, but your father told me the truth.”
She shook her head, disappointed, “My own son, walking around every day like he’s permanently on his way to a training session.”
I raised my hands, “I like comfort.”
She shot me a look, “I like having a son with taste.”
I sighed, “So this is happening?”
“Oh, it’s happening.”
She turned to the door, “Honey! Come here!”
A few seconds later, Dad strolled in, hands casually in his pockets like he hadn’t just thrown me to the wolves earlier.
“Yeah?”
Mom gestured toward me, her voice dead serious, “Give him your card.”
Dad’s expression instantly shifted. His posture straightened, his expression turning grave, like a knight being given his final mission. Then, slowly, with the weight of great responsibility, he dropped to one knee. I watched as he reverently pulled his wallet from his pocket, sliding out his credit card like it was a sacred relic. He held it up, his gaze filled with solemnity as he extended it toward me.
“Son.” His voice was low, steady, filled with unspoken wisdom.
I hesitated before reaching out, gripping the card with equal reverence. Our eyes met. A silent understanding passed between us. This was not just a piece of plastic.
This was power.
This was trust.
This was the weight of responsibility.
I swallowed, “I will wield it wisely.”
Dad nodded once, standing back up, “See that you do.”
Mom just shook her head, "You two are ridiculous."
She didn’t stop me from taking the card, though. Shopping spree incoming.
Just as I was about to make a victorious escape with my newly acquired sacred artifact, a firm hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned my head, only to find Dad standing there, his grip solid, expression unreadable.
I blinked, “…Something wrong?”
He tilted his head slightly, his tone calm but unyielding, “Where do you think you’re going?”
I glanced down at the credit card in my hand. Then back at him, “…To bask in my success?”
His grip tightened just slightly, “You’re not going anywhere until we go over exactly what you’re buying.”
I let out a long, suffering sigh, “Dad, I’m just getting some clothes.”
He nodded, “And?”
I squinted, “…And a haircut?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, “What time is the date?”
I hesitated, “…Tomorrow at three.”
He nodded again, “Good. That means we’re getting everything done tomorrow morning.”
I sighed again, dramatically, “You’re really micromanaging my date prep?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t trust me to dress myself?”
“Son.” He looked me dead in the eye, “You own one button-up. One. And I know for a fact you haven’t gotten a haircut in almost two years.”
I frowned, “…It hasn’t been that long.”
Mom, still standing nearby, let out a horrified gasp, “Oh my god, has it really been that long?!”
Dad nodded gravely, “It has.”
Oh come on…
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face, “You guys are acting like I’ve been living in a cave.”
Mom clasped her hands together, “Oh, honey, it’s okay. We’ll fix you.”
“…That’s not—”
Dad patted my shoulder again, this time reassuringly, “Don’t worry, son. By tomorrow, you’ll be a brand-new man.”
I sighed, letting my head fall back.
There was no escaping this.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dad smirked, “That’s the spirit.”
Mom clapped her hands together. “Alright! Haircut, proper clothes, and maybe some skincare—”
I groaned, “Don’t push it.”
She just smiled.
Uh oh.