Elen smiled slightly. "This tournament is getting more interesting by the round. The truly strong competitors are starting to face each other rather than just eliminating weaker opposition."

She was right. The preliminary rounds had been about filtering out those who didn't belong, alongside others who got unlucky with bracket placement like Marcus facing Kyle in the first round. But from here forward, every match would be between legitimate contenders with genuine capabilities.

As I walked toward the competitor rest area with my group, a figure suddenly stepped directly into my path, blocking forward progress.

Kyle Reinhardt.

His expression was tight with barely controlled anger, his jaw clenched and eyes carrying cold fury that he was struggling to contain in public.

"You didn't need to do all of that," he said, his voice low but carrying clear accusation. "You could've just thrown her out from the beginning instead of dragging it out like some kind of demonstration."

The implication was obvious - he thought I'd deliberately prolonged Seraphina's suffering to humiliate her, drawing out the fight unnecessarily when I could have ended it quickly.

I met his gaze without flinching, standing my ground. My height advantage over Kyle became particularly apparent at this distance - I looked down at him slightly, which probably didn't help his mood.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do," I stated calmly but firmly. "I fight how I want, when I want, and for my own reasons. Your opinion on my methods is irrelevant."

Kyle's expression darkened further at the direct dismissal of his criticism. "That was my girlfriend you were—"

"That was my opponent in a tournament," I interrupted. "Who fought well but lost. What happens in the arena is between competitors, not their relationships outside it."

Behind me, I heard Emmet make a derisive scoffing sound - unusual for someone normally so controlled and stoic.

Kyle's attention immediately snapped toward him. "What are you scoffing at?"

Emmet regarded Kyle with his blunt honesty, completely unbothered by the hostile atmosphere. "I was excited to fight you in this tournament. Your reputation suggested you'd be worth the effort." He paused meaningfully. "But after watching this pathetic display... not so much."

The words landed like a slap. Emmet's tone made clear he'd lost respect for Kyle based on this confrontation - getting angry on behalf of his girlfriend, making accusations about fight conduct, letting emotions override professionalism.

Kyle's face flushed with anger, his carefully maintained composure cracking. "You want to say that again?"

"I could repeat it, but you heard me clearly the first time." Emmet's expression remained utterly neutral. "You're embarrassing yourself."

Kyle took several aggressive steps toward Emmet, his hand moving toward where his weapon would normally be stored. "Want to fight right now? We can settle this outside the tournament if you're so confident."

I moved immediately, stepping between them before the confrontation could escalate into actual violence. My height advantage over Kyle was even more pronounced at this distance, forcing him to look up to meet my eyes.

"Back off," I said quietly but with unmistakable authority.

Kyle glared up at me, clearly wanting to push the confrontation further but recognizing that fighting both Emmet and me simultaneously would end poorly for him.

"This isn't over," he said, though the threat sounded hollow given the circumstances.

"Yes, it is," I countered. "You're upset because your girlfriend lost. That's understandable. But making threats and picking fights with other competitors makes you look weak, not strong. Walk away before you embarrass yourself further."

For a long moment, Kyle stood there rigidly, clearly torn between pride demanding he escalate and rational assessment recognizing he'd already lost this confrontation.

Finally, he stepped back, his expression still furious but his body language showing forced restraint.

"The tournament will show who's actually strongest," he said, attempting to recover some dignity. "We'll see how confident you are when we face each other in the ring."

"Looking forward to it," I replied with complete calm.

Kyle turned and stalked away toward where Seraphina was being attended by medical staff, his shoulders tight with suppressed anger.

Once he was out of earshot, Kael released a breath he'd apparently been holding. "That was intense. I thought it was actually going to turn into a brawl."

"Kyle's emotional control is weaker than I expected," Elen observed analytically. "Getting that angry over a tournament match suggests insecurity beneath the confident facade."

Emmet nodded agreement. "Disappointing. I expected better from someone with his reputation and powerful bloodline. Emotional weakness like that is a fatal flaw in serious combat."

I watched Kyle's retreating back thoughtfully. The confrontation had been revealing - not just about Kyle's personality, but about potential future complications.

He clearly saw me as a threat now, not just to his tournament standing but to his position as one of the academy's top students. And people with golden fingers could be unpredictable when they felt challenged.

"Stay alert around him," I advised the group. "Kyle's the type who might do something stupid if he feels his status is threatened."

"You think he'd actually try something outside the tournament?" Kael asked with concern.

"Maybe not directly," Elen said before I could respond. "But he could make life difficult in other ways."

She was probably right. Direct confrontation wasn't the only method of retaliation available to someone like him.

But that was a problem for later.

For now, the tournament continued, and I still had more fights ahead before any potential confrontation with Kyle became relevant.

Our group found a quiet area in the competitor section to rest and recover between matches. The tournament organizers had scheduled a brief intermission to allow medical staff to treat injured participants and give everyone time to prepare for the second round.

Kael was reviewing his upcoming bracket matchup, Emmet sat in meditative silence likely visualizing combat scenarios, and Elen was discussing water manipulation theory with another student when the second-round pairings were posted.

I walked over to check the magical display boards, scanning for our names and potential opponents.

My eyes found Elen's matchup, and I grimaced immediately.

Elen Frost vs Kyle Reinhardt

Incredibly unlucky. Out of all the remaining competitors, the bracket randomization had paired her against the one person most likely to make the fight personal.

I returned to our group and caught Elen's attention. "Check the bracket. Your next match."

She walked over to the display board, and I saw her shoulders slump the moment she found her name paired with Kyle's.

"No... no no no," she muttered, returning with visible frustration.

I turned toward her directly. "Just forfeit the match. He's going to try to get back at me by making you miserable in that ring. It's not worth the risk."

She sighed deeply, understanding the reality even if she hated it. "ARGHH!! Why is it me?!" The outburst was loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby students before she forced herself to calm down.

"Damn it," she continued more quietly, her expression mixing anger and disappointment. "I wanted to advance far enough to get invited by a guild! Scouts are watching these matches, and strong tournament performance is the best way to attract attention from professional organizations."

That was true. Many awakener guilds sent talent scouts to academy tournaments specifically to identify promising students worth recruiting. Advancing to the final four or even eight would almost guarantee guild offers with good terms - sponsorship, resources, training opportunities, and post-graduation employment.

Forfeiting in the round of thirty-two meant losing that opportunity.

I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. I will sort you out after this."

The promise was genuine. I had connections through the Blackwood family, resources from my various business ventures, and enough influence to help Elen secure good guild placement regardless of tournament results. Relatively speaking, the organisations under my family name are considered to be platinum rank, the highest rank in the whole city, so working under them was basically the dream of every student here.

Whether through direct recommendation, financial sponsorship, or simply introducing her to the right people, I could ensure her future prospects weren't damaged by unlucky bracket placement.

She looked at me for a moment, clearly wanting to believe but not quite taking the promise fully to heart. "I appreciate that, Adrian. Really. But it's not the same as earning it myself through tournament performance."

I understood her frustration. Pride and self-sufficiency mattered, especially for someone like Elen who'd worked hard to overcome resource disadvantages through pure skill and dedication.

"I know," I acknowledged. "But sometimes bad luck happens, and there's no shame in avoiding unnecessary damage when the outcome is predetermined anyway."

She nodded slowly, accepting the logic even if emotionally it stung. "You're right. Fighting Kyle after he's already angry and looking for an outlet would just result in me getting hurt for no benefit."

"Exactly. Live to fight another day."

Elen took a deep breath and squared her shoulders with visible effort to accept the situation. "Fine. I'll forfeit when the match is called. Better to preserve dignity through smart withdrawal than get thrashed for pride."

Kael, who'd been listening quietly, spoke up with sympathy. "That really is terrible luck. You would have had good chances against most other opponents."

"Tournament randomization giveth and taketh away," Elen said with forced philosophy. "At least I made it to the round of thirty-two. That's still respectable."

Emmet, blunt, added his perspective. "Forfeiting against Kyle is sound. He's emotionally compromised and would absolutely take out his frustration on Adrian's friend. No point becoming collateral damage in someone else's vendetta."

The rest of our group nodded agreement, and Elen seemed to draw some comfort from the unanimous support for her decision.

When her match was eventually called and she walked to the arena, she made the forfeit announcement clearly and without shame. The crowd murmured with surprise and disappointment, they'd wanted to see the Kyle compete.

Kyle accepted the forfeit with an expression that mixed satisfaction and frustration. He'd advanced without effort, but also been denied the opportunity to vent his anger through combat.

As Elen returned to our group, I reaffirmed my promise quietly. "I meant what I said. Your guild placement will be handled."

She managed a genuine smile this time. "Thank you, Adrian."

Sometimes friendship meant more than tournament glory.

And I'd make sure her withdrawal today didn't cost her the future she deserved.

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