The break room felt colder than usual, but maybe that was just Riven's nerves. The muffled roar of the crowd outside barely reached him through the stone walls. He sat on the edge of a battered bench, arms crossed tightly, staring at the matchup board mounted to the wall like it held his fate—which, in a way, it did.
He scanned through the names hastily scribbled into the brackets, his eyes freezing when they landed on his next opponent:
Riven vs. Daryn – The Glassfall Mage
Riven muttered under his breath, "A mage… fantastic."
He leaned back, exhaling slowly. The last match had been brutal enough—Nuin had the ability to phase through solids, and even that pushed him to the edge. Now he had to go up against a classically trained mage who could summon and control deadly shards of glass like it was second nature.
"How am I supposed to win against a guy who can rain death from the sky?" he whispered to himself.
No answer came. Just the silence of the break room, with faint echoes of the next match about to begin.
He looked at his gun, resting on his lap, and for the hundredth time wondered if it was even worth trying. It wasn't strength, or technique, or discipline that won him battles. It was chance. Pure, blind chance.
He didn't even know how his Gopts worked half the time. They just… appeared. Sometimes during combat, sometimes randomly. Sometimes they disappeared just as quickly. The entire system was as unstable as his odds.
"I need a new Gopt," he thought. "Something strong… something useful."
But he couldn't force it. Gopts didn't work like that. The power system was almost like a sentient force that chose whether to give or take, and it didn't care if you were about to be obliterated by a magical glass storm.
Snap.
Riven flinched. The sound came from Nox cracking his fingers as he stood up, ready for his turn in the arena.
"I'm up," Nox said plainly.
Riven nodded, not really looking. Nox glanced at the board briefly, probably memorizing his own opponent. Then, without another word, he slipped out the door, headed toward the arena floor.
Riven stared at the door after it shut. A minute passed. Then two. His eyes wandered back to the board. He couldn't stop thinking about Daryn.
Glassfall magic was devastating. Mages like Daryn didn't just throw glass—they shaped it. Razor-sharp spikes, mirrored illusions, shard storms that could slice a man to ribbons from dozens of meters away. And worse, Daryn was said to be wise. That meant experience. Tactics. Control.
"I'm not going to win this with brute force," he thought. "I need to outplay him. Somehow."
Riven leaned forward, gripping the edge of the bench.
"I need something that gives me the edge. A new Gopt. Or… maybe I can trade one. There has to be someone in this arena who does that. There has to be a black market for them."
The thought sparked something in him. A plan? Maybe. At least a direction. But first—he had to survive Daryn.
Nox's POV
The arena was hotter than he remembered. The lights bore down from above, and the cheers of the crowd echoed like thunder from every corner.
Nox was standing dead center. His opponent, Yin, was already waiting—arms crossed, white armor gleaming. His eyes were glowing faintly, filled with holy light. A light user. Great.
Without a word, Yin launched a barrage of light arrows toward Nox. They blazed through the air like shooting stars.
Nox vanished.
Not in the traditional sense. He melted into the shadows cast by the stadium walls, slipping through the cracks like liquid. The arrows passed harmlessly through the space he had just been in.
He emerged behind Yin, rising from his opponent's own shadow. A sword made of concentrated darkness formed in his hand, and he thrust it forward with lethal precision.
It plunged into Yin's back.
Yin gasped, stumbling forward, clutching his chest.
"This isn't over!" Yin roared. His body began glowing, becoming pure light.
Then—he exploded upward, transforming into a blinding beam that tore through the sky and vanished.
The crowd erupted.
Judge: "Yin is DISQUALIFIED! Victory goes to… NOX!"
Back in the break room, the door creaked open again as Nox returned. Riven glanced up, clearly lost in thought.
"You won?" he asked.
Nox just nodded and sat back down, brushing dirt off his boots.
"Opponent?" Riven added.
"Yin. Light user. Annoying. Fast."
"How'd you beat him?"
"Stabbed him. He ran away."
Riven managed a weak chuckle. "Classic."
Nox glanced over at the board again. "You're up against Daryn next, huh?"
"Yeah," Riven muttered. "Any advice?"
Nox leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Honestly? You'll need luck."
"That's all I ever need."
"Well, you'll need a lot more of it this time. He's not a joke."
"You ever fought him before?"
"No. But I've seen him fight. Guy's a monster. Never even breaks a sweat."
Riven stared down at his gun. His fingers tapped against the metal. He could feel something stirring, that tension in his chest that came before battle. Not fear exactly—but something close to it.
"Great," he sighed.
"I mean," Nox added, "if it were me, I'd just shadow-stab his heart."
"You say that like it's a casual thing to do."
"It is. For me."
Riven gave him a look, but there was no real irritation behind it. Just tired respect. Nox was good. Better than Riven, at least in terms of raw ability