(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don't hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

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Protocol flickered across Orion's mind, lines of light threading through his vision. Each line carried a sequence: steps, weight, rhythm, heartbeat.

Three distinct signatures.

He traced them as he moved, gliding through the forest's edge without effort. The air was still, soundless except for faint echoes of motion ahead — short bursts of breath, muscle tension, shifting gravel. His senses outlined the scene before he arrived: five fading mana residues. A recent fight.

They'd finished their opponents.

His steps didn't make a sound when he appeared behind them.

"Whoever caused all this noise must be pretty confident," he said lightly.

All three turned at once.

The girl, the leader, positioned herself instinctively in front of the other two. The tall one shifted his weight, grounding himself, ready for a fight. The smaller one looked sharp-eyed but unsettled.

The leader spoke first. "And who are you?"

Her tone wasn't hostile, just assessing.

Orion tilted his head slightly, a faint smile crossing his face.

"Someone curious." He said.

He didn't elaborate. His tone had that teasing edge that disarmed tension but didn't hide danger.

"You picked the wrong place to be curious," said the taller boy, Darius, stepping forward.

Orion's smile didn't fade.

"Maybe. Or maybe you picked the wrong place to be loud." Orion said with a chuckle.

The boy's brazenness reminded him of someone in his past life.

The leader raised a hand, quieting her teammates. She studied him for a second, his posture relaxed, no visible stance, no trace of fear. That was what set her on guard.

"I'll ask once. Are you here for a fight?" she asked.

"

Orion looked at her briefly, then closed his eyes.

"Doesn't seem like I have a choice, does it?"

He could already see their approach before they moved. Protocol projected faint afterimages — where their weight would shift, where a strike would begin. His mind filled the space where his sight had ended.

Darius lunged first, straightforward, no feints, pure force.

Orion stepped aside just enough. The punch brushed his sleeve. He countered with his shoulder, tapping the boy's balance mid-step, not enough to knock him down, but enough to make him stumble.

The sharp-tongued one, Niel, followed immediately, fast and precise, using Darius's motion as a distraction. Orion could feel the shift in airflow before the kick came. He bent slightly, one hand parrying without looking. The contact confirmed the rhythm; Protocol traced it forward, predicting the next step.

A backhand came next. He caught it with his forearm and redirected it outward, his own foot sliding into the perfect spot, Kairos Step activating naturally. His counter landed clean, forcing Niel back three paces.

Irelle didn't move yet. She was watching, analysing.

'He's not attacking,' she thought. '

And she was right. Orion wasn't fighting to win, not yet.

He was grinding Protocol.

The skill wasn't meant for combat exclusively; it was meant for observation, the mental and physical protocols of reality visible, dissected, rearranged. But that meant there was lag. The mind needed to adapt, hence the higher the proficiency, the greater the adaptation.

And so far, he'd been using every fight to grind it.

Darius came again, angrier this time. His body reinforced with mana, his steps heavier. Orion didn't move far, a sidestep and a palm strike to redirect momentum.

The boy turned faster than expected, catching Orion's arm. For a second, pressure built — Darius pulling, Orion resisting.

Then Protocol adjusted.

Weight distribution. Grip angle. Muscle tension.

Orion shifted one step back, rotated his wrist, and Darius lost balance instantly. He hit the ground hard, rolling once before stopping.

"Too forward-heavy," Orion said quietly, eyes still closed.

Niel attacked again, using the opening.

Faster and smarter this time. Feints, direction changes. He was trying to break the pattern. Orion smiled faintly. This was better. He moved only when necessary, small movements and hits, each timed precisely. Every near hit, on him corrected the next calculation.

Within seconds, Niel's movements began to slow, not physically, but mentally. He was being read faster than he could change it.

When he tried to pivot left, Orion was already there. A short strike to the ribs. A sweep to the leg.

Niel fell back, breath caught in his throat.

The sound of his fall stirred Irelle. She stepped forward, not charging but walking.

'He's not relying on sight,' she noted.

'That means his sense range is wide, or he's using something like predictive vision.'

She didn't hesitate. The moment his weight shifted, she moved, Kairos Step activating at the edge of the interval. Her first strike nearly connected. Orion's hand intercepted it cleanly, precise to the millisecond.

They exchanged four blows in less than a second. None landed. Each time she moved, he was already adapting. Each time he countered, she deflected.

She was good. Very good.

'Predictive judgment, not reactionary,' Orion noted mentally

He liked that.

Then he shifted, his body flowing with the next pulse of Protocol. He started attacking more. Each strike ended exactly where her guard would fail.

Within seconds, she had to step back. He pressed once more, then stopped, not because he couldn't continue, but because he didn't need to.

She exhaled slowly, regaining her stance. Behind her, both Darius and Niel were trying to stand again, breathing hard. They'd lost, but she hadn't given the order to yield. Not yet.

Orion opened his eyes, finally, the faint glow fading from them.

"You fight well," he said simply.

Her chin lifted slightly.

"We lost." She said simply.

"Doesn't make it less true." He replied with a smile.

She hesitated. Pride warred with reason, but she forced the words out evenly.

"Before you disqualify us, consider this: our sigils won't change anything for you. You're already ahead."

His brow rose slightly. "How would you know that?" He said.

"You're Orion, aren't you?" she asked quietly. "The one topping the board."

He paused. He could have denied, but he didn't; there was no point.

He gave a simple nod.

"Then you understand," she said. "Taking ours won't move you forward, but sparing us might help you later."

Her tone was steady, but her eyes betrayed calculation, not fear, not pleading.

He saw the subtle tension in her shoulders, the fine line between submission and self-control.

'She's trying to protect her team without letting it look like mercy.' Orion thought, amused but impressed.

He respected that. That balance between pride and pragmatism — it wasn't common among ten-year-olds.

"Help or not, you're the desperate on here; if I decide to take your sigil stones, you'd be out," Orion said with a raised brow.

Irelle's eyes narrowed.

"I understand that, but I have nothing else to negotiate with unless there's something you want in particular," she said with a frown.

She wasn't used to being the submissive one; it irked her.

Orion looked at the three of them for a long moment.

"Fine," he said eventually.

"I'll take three favors from each." He said.

Her eyes flickered with relief, but only for a heartbeat before she composed herself again.

"You won't regret it," she said evenly.

"I usually don't," Orion replied with a faint smirk.

As he turned away, Protocol lines returned to his vision, his mind already working on locating his next targets.

The trio stayed silent until his presence vanished completely, not through magic or light, just absence.

Niel exhaled first. "We made it."

Darius nodded, half dazed.

Irelle watched the direction he'd gone, her expression calm. "No," she said.

"We were lucky. If he were unreasonable, we'd have to wait until next year." She said with bitterness as though the concept of that happening was an abomination.

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