The bodyguard's hand closed around Sam's throat like a vice.
He barely saw the man move—just a flicker of motion, then pressure. Bone-crushing strength.
Sam clawed at the hand, feet scrambling for balance as he was lifted off the floor like a ragdoll. The man didn't speak. His eyes were dark, cold, impersonal. Trained.
Sam's legs kicked, his vision narrowing. His mind screamed for air—then suddenly, he remembered.
Focus. Breathe inside.
He shut everything else out. The noise, the pain, the rising panic. He didn't need to overpower this guy. Just redirect.
Sam's core tightened. He forced his internal flow into a burst—not outward, but inward, flooding his muscles for a final push. He drove his knee into the man's ribs—once, twice—and then angled his arm just enough to wedge his elbow in between the grip and his own neck.
A second later, he slammed his weight downward—rolling with gravity, not against it.
The guard stumbled, grip loosening for half a breath. Sam hit the floor hard, coughing, stars swimming in his eyes. But he didn't stop. Not this time.
He twisted, grabbed the man's arm, and channeled.
Aether surged from Sam's palm—raw, unpolished, but desperate—and with a shout, he released it in a blast directly into the man's side.
It wasn't elegant. It wasn't perfect. But it sent the bodyguard skidding across the floor, crashing into a stone pillar that cracked under the force.
Silence.
Sam panted on all fours, his throat burning, every limb trembling. The crowd that had once jeered from the shadows was now frozen. Even the ring leader—bloodied and unconscious from the earlier fight—lay forgotten.
The bodyguard didn't rise.
Sam stared at him for a long moment, expecting another ambush.
Then a light flickered above them—a system scan from the underground facility's failsafe units.
Subject: GR-71
Class: Awakened
Rank: B
Status: Unconscious
***CHALLENGER WINS***
Sam blinked, the words blurring in his vision.
A B-rank Awakened.
And I beat him… barely.
He didn't feel pride. He felt the weight of it. How far he had to go. What real power looked like.
---
Later, Sam sat outside on the cracked steps behind the ring facility, nursing a bruised rib and trying not to wince when he breathed.
The cold night air stung his skin. The stars looked dull from this part of City A. Too much smoke. Too many lies.
A quiet shuffle sounded behind him.
Ren.
He stepped out slowly, avoiding Sam's eyes at first. He looked cleaner now—bandaged, with a fresh shirt Ava must've found for him. But his face still held the shadows of what had happened. Of what had been happening for far longer.
Sam didn't speak. He waited.
Ren finally sat beside him.
"…I was the one who approached them," he said after a long silence.
Sam didn't interrupt.
"I needed money," Ren continued, voice flat. "For my brother. He's sick. Like... the kind of sick healing aether won't fix. My family's from the Outer Fringe. There's no support there. Not unless you're sponsored. Not unless you win."
Sam turned to him slightly. "The fights."
Ren nodded. "I told myself it'd be one match. Just one. Enough to send credits back home. But once you're in… they don't let go."
He looked away.
"Kael told me not to join any clubs during orientation. Said I looked like someone who wanted to disappear. Guess he was right."
Sam stayed silent, the weight of it all settling between them.
"They found out I had decent speed. Called me 'Ghosthand' in the ring. Made me fight twice a week. Said if I refused, they'd find my family. Hurt them."
"And the ring leader?" Sam asked.
Ren's jaw tightened. "His name's Malric. Used to be an awakened too—low B-rank, back before the collapse of Sector Nine. He built this ring out of the ruins. Pays off enforcers. Even some academy dropouts work for him."
Sam absorbed the information slowly.
"You saved me," Ren said. "Twice."
"I didn't save you," Sam replied. "I showed up late, and hit a guy harder than expected."
But Ren shook his head. "No. You showed up. No one else did."
Sam didn't answer. He just leaned back, watching the stars through the haze.
Ren was about to open his mouth when...
Sam nodded. "I know."
Ren swallowed. "Then why did you…?"
"…Because I couldn't let it happen again," Sam said. "Not to someone who didn't choose it. Not when I could stop it."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Sam stood. "We're not done yet. There are more like Malric out there. And I'm guessing they're not all hiding in the dark."
Ren looked up at him. "You're gonna keep fighting them?"
Sam shrugged, a grin flickering despite the bruises. "I'm in Nullis. No one expects anything from me. So I figure I've got nothing to lose."
---
Back in the dorm later that night, Sam stood in front of the cracked mirror again.
This time, the reflection didn't seem so broken.
There was something behind his eyes now.
Purpose.
He still didn't know what kind of fighter he was. Still didn't know if he could ever really catch up to people like Zeke, or earn a place among the elite. But he knew one thing:
He wasn't going to sit back anymore.
The fire had started.
And now, it was spreading.