They both staggered.
Brisa backed up.
Lucian didn’t.
She charged again, yelling this time—finally letting herself loose.
But Evelyn was already mid-air.
She dove from above, axe kick slamming down.
Brisa blocked it, and Evelyn grinned—because that wasn’t the real one.
The real Evelyn was behind her.
"Elbow," she said simply.
Brisa dropped.
Lucian exhaled slowly.
Sand swirled around them.
The battle was over.
Every Sector Twelve fighter was down. One unconscious. Two bleeding. One... missing.
Silas limped back, jaw clenched.
"You alright?" Evelyn called out.
He grunted. "She hits like a truck. Still standing though."
Vyn didn’t say anything.
She just waved a hand and let her control fade.
The heat mirage calmed. The sand settled.
Reia stepped forward last, eye twitching.
"They were trained to kill," she muttered. "They weren’t holding back."
"No," Lucian agreed. "They weren’t."
Athena’s voice buzzed in their ears again.
"Match complete. Class Zero—victory confirmed."
The crowd?
They went silent for two seconds.
Then exploded.
Cheers shook the dome.
But it wasn’t like the other fights.
This was louder.
Heavier.
The kind of cheer that came with fear.
Awe.
Even the other booths were frozen.
No one had expected a clean wipe.
Not against killers.
Class Zero regrouped at the center.
Lucian looked at each of them.
Silas was bruised but standing.
Evelyn was smiling.
Vyn was already fading her mana down.
Reia’s nose bled slightly from psychic strain.
They were all fine.
Lucian turned his gaze up.
Back to that private VIP box.
Eron wasn’t there anymore.
But Aldric was.
Still smiling.
Still watching.
Like a man setting the board for something bigger.
And Lucian knew.
This wasn’t the game.
This was the opening move.
He turned away.
No words needed.
Class Zero walked off the battlefield.
Unshaken.
Unbroken.
And now?
Feared.