⸻
Chapter 49: Declare and Decided
—
🎙️ "MATCH COMPLETE — Fan Yumei, victorious.
Total Score: 29/40."
———
A sharp drop from my previous 35.
The crowd murmured—uneasy, uncertain.
Commander Qian Shiyan folded his arms without a word.
Principal Renshu leaned forward slightly on his kinetic cane. No smile this time. Not even the hint of one.
—
Mystic landed beside me, her tail flicking low across the suspended storm ring.
I didn't speak.
Didn't move.
I just stared ahead, past the rising match data. Through the heat haze and spinning qi-banners.
"I don't want a partner who wins when she feels like it," I said finally.
Her voice rumbled across our soul-link, hesitant.
« I thought it'd be easy. I didn't mean to— »
"I don't care what you meant."
My tone stayed level. Controlled. But the anger was there—quiet, focused. "You don't get to gamble on your pride and put both of us at risk."
She fell silent.
I turned and started walking across the floating ramp toward the staging platform. My boots clicked against the photonic plating.
"I wanted to believe we could grow together. But if I have to drag you behind me like some cloud toy…"
My voice dropped lower. Sharper. "Then I'll put you in the sanctuary. I'll train you there until you listen."
Behind me, her presence dimmed. No thunder. No wind.
Just silence.
I paused mid-step. Let my shoulders drop—just a little. Let the pain show, once, in the flicker of my breath.
"I don't want to lose you."
I looked up—toward the dome, where the rankings flickered above, names shifting with every match recalibration.
"But I can't protect you if you won't listen.
And I won't lose because you think it's funny to play games."
Then, under my breath—barely audible even to myself:
"I hope there's someone out there with a leviathan strong enough to slap the arrogance out of you."
I didn't wait for her reply.
—
She stayed on the cloud field, curled fins and dim aura.
Alone.
For the first time, the storm inside her didn't surge.
It trembled.
—
🎙️ "ALL ELIMINATED COMBATANTS — VACATE AIRBORNE ARENAS IMMEDIATELY.
NEXT DUEL INITIATING."
—
⚡ The dome pulsed again, sweeping away lingering cloud debris and unstable qi signatures. Sky pressure normalized. I stood beneath the scorched platform, hands loose at my sides.
Mystic drifted slowly toward the staging ring.
🎙️ "NEXT MATCH: FAN YUMEI versus KELAN SHU — Sky-Class High-Elevation Combatant. Opponent incoming."
—
The wind shifted.
From the far gate, a dark blue silhouette rose, accompanied by spears of layered ice and an expression colder than the clouds themselves.
I narrowed my eyes.
Mystic didn't speak.
Not this time.
She'd learned something—at least, I hoped she had.
Her power wasn't enough on its own. Not here. Not in Federation combat.
We needed discipline. Unity. Or we'd break.
And if we broke—that was it.
I wouldn't survive a second failure.
Not in this life.
I'd only been given one more chance.
And I was going to do it right this time.
—
🎙️ "NEXT MATCH: Fan Yumei versus Kelan Shu — Sky-Class High-Elevation Combatant. Opponent incoming."
—
The upper dome flared with stormlight. Federation glyphs spiraled, warping air pressure in real time. The temperature dropped four degrees almost instantly.
Across the aerial zone, Kelan Shu emerged—calm, deadly, armor interlaced with cryo-seals. His spears gleamed under the cloudlight, and his Ice-Piercer Roc hovered behind him like a bladed phantom.
I stayed still.
Mystic hovered beside me. Quiet—but not ready. Her fins tensed, not in readiness.
In shame.
No resonance.
No games.
Just tension.
I kept my stance neutral. Lips tight.
She had to improve this round.
She had to prove she wanted this too.
—
The arena ignited.
I launched forward.
Mystic moved.
But it was off.
Hesitation in her arc—half a beat too long. Her storm wake bent unevenly. Not arrogance this time.
Uncertainty.
And I didn't have time to fix her.
"Mystic—Cloud Veil, now!"
She triggered it—late.
Kelan's second spear clipped her tail and slammed her backwards.
I moved on instinct—launched from her back mid-air, boots flaring with storm qi. I hit the edge platform, rolled into a crouch, drew my twin blades.
Red and black.
Chaos qi flared the second I gripped them.
I dashed low—spinning both blades—flames and bent light slicing arcs around my body.
He blocked the red one with a reverse sweep, but the black blade shaved a clean line through the outer edge of his cryo-armor.
Mystic circled overhead—too slow again—but watching.
I didn't look at her.
Didn't need to.
"Kelan's waiting for me to stall," I murmured. "Then I won't."
I smashed both blades together.
Chaos energy detonated between them—and I hurled the combined sphere at his feet.
The field shook.
I dove low again, reversed grip, and launched onto a wind ribbon just below the cloud line.
"Mystic! Move now or don't come back!"
I meant it.
She launched—sloppy, fast, but committed.
She slammed into Kelan's back just as he tried to recover from the blast.
I didn't waste the moment.
I leapt back up, blades reversed—cutting downward in a spinning arc. Chaos burst across both weapons.
One of his spears snapped in half.
The round ended.
—
🎙️ "ROUND ONE:
Kelan Shu — 21 pts
Fan Yumei — 17 pts"
—
A loss.
Not a big one.
But a waste.
I landed beside Mystic, breathing hard—not from effort.
From frustration.
"That," I said flatly, "should've been ours."
It wasn't about winning.
I didn't care about tallies or applause.
I cared about the metrics. The data.
Because I'd died once already.
And this was my second life.
I couldn't afford to mess this one up.
Not again.
Not if I wanted to stay alive long enough to make it matter.
Mystic lowered her head.
Quiet.
No resistance.
—
🌀 ROUND TWO — Beast-Only Combat
—
This time, she didn't pause.
She flew sharp—focused.
Cloud veils spiraled tight. Defensive arcs curled into familiar forms—my old footwork patterns.
She saw the second spear before it launched—struck before it extended.
No grace. Just fury.
But finally—focus.
She mirrored what I'd drilled into her:
Feints. Reversals. Pressure pivots.
Kelan's roc dove from the high angle.
She twisted mid-spin, dipped low, then surged upward—thunder carved directly into the roc's core.
⚡ CRACK.
It spiraled downward.
—
🎙️ "BEAST ROUND COMPLETE — Fan Yumei wins Round Two."
—
Final score blinked above:
🎖️ Fan Yumei: 31/40
—
Not my best.
But enough.
Just enough.
—
In the staging zone, I stood beside Mystic while we floated toward the off-ramp. Neither of us spoke.
Commander Qian still hadn't unfolded his arms.
Principal Renshu's gaze hadn't softened.
I kept my jaw locked.
"Mystic," I said finally.
She turned toward me.
I didn't meet her gaze.
"You've got ten minutes before the next match."
I let the words settle. No softness in them.
"Figure out if you're my partner…
or my problem."
The wind howled across the dome.
But between us—
Nothing stirred.
Not yet.
Nine minutes.
That's all the time we had left to get this right.