(Sky-God Arena – Commentary Booth)
"He wouldn't do it, would he? He can't…" Derek exhaled, his voice low, the disbelief still clinging to his tone. "I mean—he's bruised and battered, there's no way he can take on a fresh fighter… But there's no way he should've defeated Gu Ramos either. And although I know he can't… something about the boy makes me hope that he just may—"
Lee didn't respond right away.
His arms were folded across his chest, eyes fixed on the screen as the camera zoomed in on Leo—still standing alone in the center of the arena, half-soaked in sweat and blood, but silent. Unflinching.
"That's the danger of fighters like him," Lee said finally. "They're not the strongest. Nor the most experienced. But they have this depth about themselves that can't be gauged, as they keep pulling off things they shouldn't be capable of—and somewhere along the line, you stop betting against them."
"Well you can't deny that he's given Rodova a fighting chance," Derek nodded, still breathless. "It's 4–4 now. The entire Interstellar Circuits… down to the final match. And somehow—despite being down 3–1 just a few rounds ago—Rodova is still in this."
"But don't let that scoreline fool you," Lee cut in, his voice sharpening. "Geneva still holds the advantage. Leo's exhausted, and his body has taken a beating.
He's bleeding from his shoulder and waist… and has already expended a lot of stamina to bring down three Grandmaster-level opponents, I don't think he's got much left in the tank—"
"And now he has to fight Darnell Nuna," Derek added quietly. "A fresh Grandmaster. One who hasn't lifted a finger all day and one whose record within the circuits has never seen a loss."
"There's no way he wins this," Lee said, shaking his head—but there was no mockery in his tone. Only gravity. "Logically, there's no path. Not against an unscathed Darnell. Ramos was already injured when he fought, but Darnell? Darnell's coming in with full reserves."
A pause.
And then Derek added—
"…But logic hasn't exactly been Leo Skyshard's strongest trait, has it?"
"No," Lee agreed slowly. "But miracles aren't sustainable, Derek. And he's already used two."
Another pause passed, heavier this time, before Derek leaned forward slightly, voice softer.
"Then I guess the only question now is… does he have one more left in him?"
—--------
The question of whether Leo had one more miracle left in him wasn't something the commentators wondered alone, as every spectator in the stands and back at home found themselves clutching to the same uncertainty, unable to look away.
For the longest time, the Sky-God Arena had been a thunderstorm of Geneva dominance—loud, rowdy, confident.
But now?
Now it was silent.
Not because they didn't believe in Darnell.
But because they had just watched the impossible happen.
They had watched a bloodied first-year with daggers and discipline carve through three seasoned Grandmasters without a single ounce of hesitation.
And while logic still screamed that the final bout should be a formality… their hearts hesitated to agree.
In the Rodova section, fans who had once slouched low in their seats now stood tall—hands over mouths, fists trembling on railings, eyes wide with unspoken hope.
Some had tears in their eyes. Others whispered prayers.
"Come on, Leo… just one more."
"You can do this boy! Please bring us glory after 22 long years!"
"I'll personally buy every product you endorse if you win this one for us. But please please please stand strong—"
All eyes were glued on Leo, as the circuit's viewership climbed to its absolute peak of 864B people watching live.
This was a new record, as the circuits had never been this interesting in a while, as people universally were glued to the screens, waiting for Leo to pull off a miracle.
Even the dignitaries seated in the VVIP balconies had their gazes sharpened—watching not just the scoreboard, but the boy who had tilted the entire bracket back from the brink of defeat.
The boy who did not have the surname of the six great clans attached to him, but still put any fighter from the six great clans to shame.
As curiosity about such a man and his past increased amongst the elite.
—----------
Finally, it was Leo's injured teammates, and instructors watching from the stands, who prayed for him to do well, as all their hopes and aspirations now rested on his shoulders.
Yu Shen, lying still on the infirmary cot, refused to look away from the screen. 'You're out there holding the line for all of us… and I couldn't even get past the opening round. If we win this… it won't be because of me. It'll be in spite of me. So please… finish what I couldn't. So that all of us can hold our heads high–'
Su Yang sat upright for the first time since regaining consciousness, still pale, still injured—but with both palms pressed tightly together in front of him. 'The fuck Skyshard? Why do you look so tired? I haven't woken up from near death just to see you fall here…. Come on! Dig deep and give them hell…. I know you can!'
Enzo, wrapped in bandages and lying crooked on the bench, let out a tired chuckle. "Heh… look at the crowd," he muttered. "Geneva's fans are dead silent. I'm sure they didn't think one skinny bastard with daggers could shake 'em this bad."
Principal Alric stood with arms folded high above in the Rodova box, watching Leo stand strong with a visible glee on his face. "Just one more win… and no one will ever question why I placed my faith in a couple new kids over the many. I saw it the day he walked in. That it would come down to him… and Su Yang. And I was right. In the end it's only those boys who scored points for Rodova—"
Instructor Hen leaned forward from the Rodova section, one hand resting on the railing, his knuckles white. 'All those nights I stayed late training you… all those hours we spent sparring until your knees gave out—I just hope it was enough to last you through the final round.'
And even Professor David, seated silently in the shadows of the faculty tier, sipped his tea without expression. 'If you pull this off for Rodova… maybe—just maybe—I'll go easy on you for the academic finals.'
—--------
"LEO!!!"
"LEO!!!"
*CLAP*
*CLAP*
*CLAP*
"LEO!!!"
"LEO!!!"
The Rodova fans sang in rhythm, as Leo stood unfazed in the centre of the arena.
Across from him stood Darnell Nuna, the son of the Black Serpents guild master Dupravel Nuna, and the opponent that he wanted to face the least in this tournament.
Up-till now, he hadn't made up his mind on whether or not he wanted to fight Darnell Nuna seriously, however, at this moment, amongst the cheers of this crowd, he finally came to the conclusion that he would fight against Darnell with his all.
If the consequence of him defeating the Black Serpent guild master's son was him being denied entry into the guild…. Then be it.
However, after witnessing how Su Yang and Enzo had pushed themselves to the brink just for Rodova's sake.
He couldn't bring himself to throw away the finals anymore, as he decided to give the next fight his all.