The crowd in the stadium began to disperse, a slow tide receding after the tournament's dramatic conclusion. Eddie stretched, his limbs popping with a satisfying series of cracks. "Man, that was one of the best fights I've seen since I started coming to these things," he said, a grin spreading across his face.

Tilda, standing up as well, arched an eyebrow. "You come here often?"

"Sometimes," Eddie replied, "Not every time there's a match."

"I don't usually come," Tilda admitted. "The last time I was here was when I was showing Adam around the city."

Eddie's grin widened. "Oh, you showed Adam around? Must've been fun hanging out." His tone was playful, hinting at a deeper curiosity.

"It was..." Tilda began, her voice trailing off, a wistful expression softening her features. The memory of their day together flooded back – the laughter at the amusement park, the silly games they played, the moments where, despite the weight of her carefully constructed lies, she'd forgotten her worries and allowed herself to smile. "It was fun," she repeated, her voice now sounding more genuine, more convincing, even to herself.

Meanwhile Adam stepped through the small door, the transition from the ravaged tournament landscape to the familiar living room jarring despite its familiarity. He'd been in this room before; the worn sofa and large-screen TV were instantly recognizable, yet the sterile cleanliness felt oddly at odds with the chaotic scene he'd just left. A woman stood calmly beside the door. "Congratulations, Adam," she said, her tone even and devoid of any overt emotion. "You've advanced to the next stage."

"Yeah," Adam replied, his voice flat.

The woman gestured towards a door set within the far wall of the living room. "This way," she said, her expression unchanging.

Adam followed, his curiosity piqued. He expected more of the same sterile environment, but as the door opened, he was genuinely surprised. The room beyond held a scene of unexpected chaos. Several people lay on makeshift beds, groaning in pain, their injuries ranging from minor scrapes to what looked like severe trauma. Adam recognized some of the faces—participants in the tournament he hadn't actually encountered during the competition, others he vaguely remembered seeing before the tournament even began. Several women in unfamiliar, yet clearly medical, white coats moved amongst the injured, tending to their wounds with an almost unsettling efficiency. The uniforms were unlike any he'd seen before, a blend of clinical practicality and something subtly… otherworldly.

The women's hands glowed with an ethereal light—some green, some red, some blue—as they worked, Adam watching in fascination as wounds slowly closed and the injured began to stir. The woman who had guided him continued, her voice calm and steady, "This way," gesturing towards another door. She led him into a second room, where more tournament participants were gathered. This room, however, held only the victors; Adam was the tenth to enter.

The woman turned, her gaze fixed on Adam, a subtle shift in her demeanor. "Something is off about you, Adam," she stated, her voice low. "When the others were teleported, I couldn't teleport you. Why is that?" She took a step closer, her eyes searching his, leaving Adam speechless, unsure how to respond.

Adam's mind raced. "Ragnarok", he thought, *it must be because of Ragnarok". Adam’s memory flickered: Ragnar’s voice, sharp and insistent, echoing in his mind—a command, a prohibition: "Don't you even dare". He was certain Ragnar could only communicate with him when he was unconscious, yet he'd spoken to him then, clear as day. He could have hidden in the forest, avoided much of the brutal fighting. But Ragnar wouldn't allow it. The image of Ragnar, enjoying the chaos, the carnage, the sheer brutality of the tournament, solidified in his mind. A flicker of red—a brief, intense glow—illuminated Adam's pupils as the woman watched, her expression unreadable.

She then stepped back from Adam, who stood slightly apart from the other participants. "Adam," she said, "join the group." She then addressed the assembled participants. "You have all moved on to the next stage of the tournament. It will be held after the conclusion of the first stage for all participants. Once everyone has completed this phase, you will proceed to the second stage." She paused. "For now, I would simply like to congratulate you all. Your names have been recorded, and your participation in the second stage is confirmed."

"That is all," the woman stated, her voice flat and emotionless. "You may leave."

A murmur rippled through the group of participants as they began to converse amongst themselves, their voices a low hum. Adam, however, remained detached, his attention elsewhere. He exited through the door, finding himself outside the building. A wave of recognition washed over him as he remembered: this was the building they'd been instructed to come to for the tournament. Initially, he'd assumed the competition would take place in a stadium, but he recalled the instructions now—the tournament would be held within dimensions similar to the training grounds, and this building served as the access point.

He was surprised to see the sun beginning its descent, the sky ablaze with the colors of twilight. The group of participants was dispersing, some surprisingly pairing off as they left. Then he saw Tilda and Eddie approaching, their arrival a welcome sight. The setting sun caught him off guard; he hadn't realized how much time had passed. Although the fighting had felt like an eternity—especially with the enhanced perception of time that came with using powers—he hadn't expected it to be so late. His friends greeted him, their voices warm and familiar, and he returned their greetings. Eddie grinned, "So, how was it?"

"It was pretty tough," Adam admitted, "The fight… I didn't think it would ever end. We had to keep moving constantly, stay alert the whole time. I didn't expect the tournament to be like that," he said, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Although," he added, "the feeling isn't completely alien. It's familiar. I've had to fight before, of course, but…" He trailed off.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Eddie interrupted, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Tilda and I saw you fighting. We were in the stadium—we saw the whole thing, the entire tournament."

Tilda interrupted Eddie, a bright expression on her face. "Yeah," she said, "I saw you fight. You were pretty awesome. I knew you had it in you."

Eddie, however, wasn't finished. "I knew he'd win!" he declared, lightly punching Tilda in the shoulder. "I told you he could do it!"

But then Eddie's playful demeanor shifted, his expression turning serious. He looked intently at Adam. "Hey," he said, his voice low, "but what did you do back there? You completely stole my move."

Adam laughed, a nervous sound, and scratched his cheek. "It just… came to me," he explained. "I did it instinctively, that's all. I didn't mean to steal your move. And honestly," he added, "it's kind of hard to do. It's way cooler when *you* do it."

Eddie smirked. "That's what she said."

"What?" Adam asked, confused.

Tilda chuckled softly. "Time's slipping away," she said, glancing at the darkening sky. "We really should get going."

"Yeah, it's getting late," Eddie agreed. "That tournament really took up some time". The three of them began walking, Eddie continuing to comment on how cool the tournament had been.

Tilda joined the conversation, her own thoughts turning to the competition. "Speaking of which," she said, "who was that girl who teamed up with you, Adam?"

Adam answered, "Iris." Then a thought struck him, a sudden pang of guilt. He hadn't even spoken to Iris after emerging from the tournament.

Adam explained the situation of how he and Iris became a team. Eddie nodded. Tilda's expression remained unchanged, but a sigh of relief escaped her lips. Eddie, noticing this, smiled slightly, understanding the reason for her relief.

As they walked, Tilda’s phone rang. She answered, and Adam and Eddie stopped, noticing her sudden change in demeanor. The call seemed urgent, judging by her reaction. Then she said, "I'm sorry, guys, I have to go."

Adam asked, concerned, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Tilda replied, "It's nothing big, it's okay. I'll see you guys tomorrow." With that, she broke into a run.

After she was gone, Eddie asked, "What was that about?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. She said it was nothing big."

Eddie frowned, watching Tilda disappear down the street. "That 'nothing big' usually means it is something big," he muttered, more to himself than Adam. He shoved his hands into his pockets, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. "Anyway," he continued, snapping himself back to the present, "we should get going. We've got the Academy tomorrow."

Adam's face was grim at the mention of the Academy. "The Academy? Oh, right. I totally forgot about that," he said, his voice flat.

As they walked, the setting sun casting long shadows, Eddie casually asked, "So, what was the name of that school you attended before DMR?"

"It was called Center Hill High School," Adam answered.

"Center Hill," Eddie repeated, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, that's... uh... Anyway, you said that school wasn't great, right?"

"Yeah," Adam said, a bitter edge to his voice. "It wasn't a great school. The food was absolutely horrible. And on top of that, I was bullied constantly."

Eddie nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I remember you telling me that. But, hypothetically, if you'd had these powers back then, at school... when that bully came to you... what would you have done?"

Adam let out a nervous laugh. "I already did, in a way," he admitted. Eddie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? Wait, you actually used your powers on the bully?"

"It was an accident," Adam insisted, his voice low. "That's when I first found out I wasn't... normal. I was walking home, and I ran into Billy—the guy who used to bully me. He and his friends tried to jump me. I was alone... and that's when things happened."

Eddie hesitated, then asked, "You didn't kill him, right?"

Adam shot back, "No, no, I didn't! At least, I hope he didn't die. I mean, he collapsed when I ran away."

"He collapsed?" Eddie's voice was sharp. "Dude, he could be dead!"

"No, I don't think so," Adam insisted. "I mean, he was still groaning when I ran. I don't think he's dead. Anyway," he added, a touch defensively, "he kind of deserved what happened. I did hit his girlfriend in the process, though."

Eddie's surprise was palpable. "Wait, you actually hit his girlfriend in the process? Dude, you're a savage!"

"No, it was an accident, too," Adam said quickly.

"Really?" Eddie said, a skeptical eyebrow raised. "Well, let me guess, she kind of deserved it too?"

Adam scratched his head. "Yeah, in a way, I guess she did." He let out a sigh. "I guess I really ought to tell you what happened, huh?"

"Yeah," Eddie said, his curiosity piqued. "I'm kind of interested now. I mean, why did she do to get hit by Adam?"

"Hey, dude, come on," Adam said defensively.

"Sorry, just kidding," Eddie said, chuckling. "Anyway, what really happened?"

Adam then explained how Tiffany and Billy had set him up, orchestrating a meeting so Billy could ambush and beat him up. He then explained how he’d initially had a crush on Tiffany and how he’d received a letter arranging a meeting. When he arrived at the meeting place, Billy and his friends were waiting, and they beat him up. This was before he’d gotten his powers. After he developed his abilities, on his way home from school, he ran into Billy again. In the ensuing chaos, he accidentally shoved Tiffany, possibly injuring her hand. When Billy attacked, he instinctively fought back, taking down Billy's friends.

There really were some rotten bastards, huh?" Eddie commented, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "It was kind of similar to my school, though I didn't really get bullied. I got along with a few people, but that was all. I didn't attract much attention, either. It was just...steady, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Adam agreed.

"But that doesn't mean it was great," Eddie continued. "Honestly, the food was horrible, too." He smiled, remembering the truly awful meals

"But compared to the food here, I'd go back for seconds!"

"Yeah," Adam said, his voice barely a whisper. A comfortable silence fell between them as they walked, broken only by the sounds of their footsteps. Then, Eddie’s question hit Adam like a punch to the gut. "So, did you ever have a girlfriend?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. Adam’s surprised reaction was immediate. "Why would you ask that?"

Eddie, genuinely surprised by Adam's sharp response, said, "Wait, you never had a girlfriend?"

Adam felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I never really had one."

Eddie chuckled, a light, friendly sound. Adam, still flustered, asked, "What's so funny?"

"It's similar to me, actually," Eddie replied. "I never really had a girlfriend either."

"Oh man, so none of us have experience in dating," Adam said, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping him.

"Yeah," Eddie agreed.

They continued walking, their conversation flowing easily as they shared stories about their past lives and experiences. As they reached the point where their paths diverged, Adam said goodbye to Eddie and started walking towards his house. As he walked, a thought occurred to him. "You know, walking really sucks. Can I try flying again?"

He remembered the jarring impact of his ill-advised flight attempt, the near-miss with the trees. The girl's words, sharp and clear even now, echoed in his memory: "Bad idea". He shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not going to do that," he muttered, the city lights blurring around him. "Plus, it kind of sucks. It feels like I'm holding my breath the whole time, constantly fighting to stay balanced. It's not really flying; it's more like I'm firing tiny rockets out of my leg to keep myself airborne." He paused, a wry smile touching his lips. "Anyway, I'm still faster than a bullet, so I guess I'll just run." With that, he launched himself forward, a blur of motion against the cityscape.

Mid-flight, a thought struck Adam. "Wait a minute," he muttered, slowing his incredible pace. "She didn't say just flying, she said "powers." He stopped, rubbing his head in frustration. "Oh, I'm so dumb. That's why people always drive around in cars. But man, imagine going at 120 kilometers per hour knowing you can run at 3000 kilometers an hour!" He checked his surroundings. "I'm near my place anyway," he realized, but as he continued, he found himself leaving the city limits behind. He kept running, the city lights shrinking behind him.

He arrived back at his house, the large structure familiar and welcoming after his high-speed run. He went straight to the kitchen, a gnawing hunger urging him onward. He was ravenous. Throwing his bag onto the sofa, he began preparing something to eat, the rhythmic sounds of cooking a welcome contrast to the adrenaline still buzzing in his system. As he worked, his thoughts drifted back to Tilda and her hurried departure. What was she running off to?

Atlas city

Meanwhile, outside DMR in a building the same building Tilda and Kim had emerged from —a boy with frost-white hair, a sword strapped to his back, stood inside. He ran a hand along the wall, a faint thrum of energy tingling beneath his fingertips. This was it, he knew; the source of access to the DMR. He murmured to himself, "I should probably go tell the others, but it wouldn't hurt to just check, right?"