(Rodova Military Academy – Circuit Team Selection Day)
Circuits Selection Day at Rodova was always a strange blend of hope and heartbreak, as cadets who had trained for months—sometimes even their entire lives for the circuits—gathered in the Rodova Grand Arena with a single dream in mind, which was to make it to the Interstellar Circuit's!
The Interstellar Circuit was a chance to stand beneath the galaxy's spotlight, to be watched by billions, to fight on the grandest stage and to have one's name whispered in recruitment halls across the stars.
And hence, almost all students who enrolled into Rodova, almost always competed to try and make it to the circuits, as it was truly a tournament like no other.
For the 125 students who had enrolled into Rodova this year, today was the day that their dream of making it to the circuit would either come to life—or quietly wither into dust, as Rodova operated under a strict meritocracy, where talent reigned supreme and strength served as the only currency.
In Rodova, even the current Circuit Team members—despite representing the academy through every pre-season match—could potentially lose their team slots today to another, should they be bested in battle.
As Rodova provided this one final opportunity to all, where anyone with the strength could make it to the team.
It didn't matter if you were a first year student.
It didn't matter if you were a second year who was not selected for the summer camp or the team up-till now.
If you could claim your spot today…. You could still go to the circuits.
—---------
The viewing hall outside the arena buzzed with nervous energy. Dozens of cadets stood shoulder to shoulder, gear strapped tight, all eyes locked on the bracket screens as names continued to load.
"I heard ninety-three people signed up to face the weakest fighter in the circuit's team this year," someone muttered.
"Nearly double what it was last year..... So I kinda pity them all--- for they will have to face each other before they face Enzo"
A first-year clenched his fists. "Please don't match me with a second-year…"
"Second-year? Bro, if I end up in Leo's bracket, I'm throwing the towel before the bell rings."
Laughter tried to lighten the tension, but it quickly faded.
Even without stepping into the arena, Leo Skyshard and Su Yang had already warped the tournament just by existing.
Both had broken through to Grandmaster status—something unheard of for first-years—and the rumors of their training duels with instructors were the stuff of hallway legend.
"Su Yang's not even ranked yet and people are saying he's stronger than most of the students from Geneva."
"Leo's worse. I lost vision of him while he was sparring with Professor Powell once and he just… vanished. I don't think he even uses the same metrics as us anymore."
Suddenly, the conversations died as a familiar sound cut through the chatter.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Major Hen entered with a clipboard in hand and a face like a loaded weapon. He didn't speak right away—just looked over the room like he was waiting for the chatter to die down.
"Listen up," he finally said, flicking his wrist, as ten portraits floated into view—each representing one of the current Circuit Team members. Rank. Year. Combat stats.
"You've all selected your opponents for today.
And before you guys bitch or moan, let me inform you that your choices are now locked.
There will be no re-draws, nor any change requests entertained—" Hen said, as a few nervous murmurs spread across the room.
"If you're the only challenger for a slot, congratulations—you fight the team member directly.
Win against him/her, and the spot on Rodova's Circuit Team is yours."
"But if multiple cadets challenged the same team member… you'll fight each other first. Elimination style.
With only one of you finally getting the right to face the team member."
He paused, scanning the room.
"So those of you who purposefully picked the easiest opponent to dethrone, understand that there might be many more who shared your mindset and you're now stuck in a long and drawn out elimination battle before you can even challenge the team member.
While those of you who challenged an opponent above your weight class…. Congratulations, you now have a date with the devil—." Hen said, as listening to his speech, a voice from the back immediately grumbled, "Shuckzzz, I should've picked someone obscure… I knew Enzo would get dogpiled…"
Another cadet hissed, "Please… just let me avoid Leo or Yang in my pool. Anyone else, I'll manage…"
There were no safe bets. Going for the weakest meant a free-for-all bloodbath.
While going for the strongest meant likely defeat—but fewer steps to get there.
And now, the choices were final.
—---------
In a separate corridor, the ten current Circuit Team members waited.
Suited up. Silent.
Their armor gleamed beneath the dome lights—but there was no pride in their posture. Just tension.
Because for them, this wasn't about glory.
It was about survival.
One bad fight, one unlucky draw, and it all ended. A year of sacrifice, training, politics, and practice—erased.
'This is bullshit,' one of them thought, flexing his jaw behind his faceguard. 'I fought in five prep matches. I led drills. I missed classes to prepare for these circuits…'
'And now some first-year punk gets to kick me off the team because he had a lucky growth spurt?'
They hated the system. But they couldn't deny it.
Rodova didn't care who you were yesterday. It only cared who you were today.
And although they hated to admit it, right now most of the team members were just praying they did not draw Leo or Su Yang against themselves.
—---------
(Rodova Combat Dome – Internal Warm-Up Zone)
Away from the crowd, in a private warm-up alcove, Leo exhaled slowly as he rolled his neck, each movement precise and measured.
Beside him, Mu Shen sat with both blades across his lap, eyes closed, meditating. While Su Yang stood against the wall, rotating his shoulder, lips pressed into a thin line.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
Leo hadn't bothered checking brackets. He already knew who he was going for. His fists clenched softly as mana rippled beneath the surface of his skin.
'It's time I redeem myself.'
Power hummed inside him—tighter, denser, cleaner than it had ever been.
'I'll match him punch for punch today… No tricks. No techniques. Just raw force.'
A faint smile touched his lips as his eyes gleamed.
For the first time in months, he was looking forward to a fight.
—---------
Su Yang, meanwhile, wasn't thinking about the circuits. Or the team. Or even the tournament.
He was thinking about her.
Minerva.
The one opponent who had beaten him. Publicly. Brutally.
Today wasn't about proving himself to the academy. It was about proving something to himself.
Everyone had told him not to do it. That going against Minerva was stupid. That if he faced anyone else, he'd cruise to victory.
But Yang wasn't looking for an easy win.
He was looking for redemption.
Even if his actions risked damaging Rodova's strongest-ever circuit lineup—even if it meant only three Grandmasters might make it through instead of four—he didn't care.
This wasn't about the academy. This wasn't about strategy.
This was personal.
And win or lose, Su Yang had no intention of leaving that arena without the answer he seeked.