Döröv 24th. It had been more than a month since Suruj’s infamous declaration, and only one month until the Dineh Kazaàd in Zurgaa. In that time, they had been training. Suruj never stopped to find every single move he could do with his one sahar spell. Everyone else worked as hard, motivated by the short time frame. L and Kwazhak had revamped their courses, and they had endured more vigorous teachings and styles. Eventually, Suruj and them needed to come up with their own.

Soon enough, gradually, each fighter began modifications of their spells.

“You guys are the best batch we got.”

According to L, they were the one group that had reached spell modifications in such a short time. Every day was spent practicing in that dome-like stadium, and the time would come where Suruj’s skills would be put to use.

He walked facing Jose Perez in the stadium, where a simulation of skills would commence. Suruj wore his sea-blue Al-Wa uniform, stretching his wrists. A look of confidence drew across his face as Jose did the same. His grayish-white uniform matched his metal gauntlets in steel color. This was a test of strength.

“Listos ka na?” Jose shouted from the other side.

“Yep, ready when you are,” Suruj responded, standing firm.

The clouds covered the natural sky, dimming the sun’s light. Jose stepped back.

“I’m not the same as I was. Mahou Pagpapaandar!”

He stomped on the ground, locking himself into position. The metal gloves ignited with white light. They soared towards Suruj in a double helix. Suruj clapped his hands together, closing his eyes. Mend the ground to his will.

“Alam Daigdig: Quaking Defense.”

Crevices in the floor appeared, massive dirt mounds surrounding him. The gauntlets came to a halting stop at the mass. Dust was flung into the air.

“Summoning a pile of dirt ain’t gonna do anything,” His gauntlets returned to him, “Mahou Suiryok: Raging Kalabaw!”

Jose scratched the ground with his feet, like the mighty carabao of Buhanggilog, a buffalo that grazed in the Laguna Sagar, a massive body of water in the middle of the country. The gloves then propelled forward with a dazzling white, the beams orbiting each other. They pierce through the wall of dirt. They were coming to Suruj. He felt the desert plains, and took to the air. Suruj did a corkscrew, twirling around as the beams missed. Suruj had to be mindful. Careless attacks would result in the facility being destroyed, just like that time in the streets of Wakoku. He still felt the guilt. To his surprise, the gauntlets broke up and looped around in a curve. There was no time to use his sahar spell to block them.

“Ram!” Jose yelled as they intertwined.

With two projectiles coming at him, Suruj ducked and landed shoulder first on the ground. He could barely keep his grip with eight fingers. Holding his shoulder, it stung like hell. He was glad that they weren’t fighting for real. Suruj took a deep breath, as particles glowed around him and went to his body. If he could deflect the gauntlets with pure sahar, then he could disarm Jose.

Suruj sidestepped. He concentrated the particles to his fingers. His fists glowed to the accumulation. He countered the two gloves head on, as if he was pushing them back. Tthe gauntlets started to rotate, spinning Suruj in a circle. He could see Jose rushing towards him. Using the rotation of the gauntlets, Suruj dodged Jose’s haymaker. He sent the metal gloves right back at him. When he landed, he soon felt dizzy and nauseous. Suruj struggled to keep his footing.

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When he was beginning to look forward, a silver fist came over and stopped directly at his neck. It was over.

“Gotcha. The great Jose has won this glorious match,” Jose laughed as he cheered himself on.

“Right,” Suruj dropped his arms, grimacing, “It’s your win.”

“They got smoked lamb. Here.”

“Shukran. Pinally, something I know and love,” Jose munched on the brownish meat. Suruj handed him another.

They were sitting in the stands, eating. Suruj straightened his chopsticks and savored oily egg rolls into his mouth. He looked at Mouka, who was poking at her food.

“Not hungry?” Suruj asked, as the lumpia wrapper crunched in his teeth. Mouka turned around, and held her bento towards him.

“I’m not that hungry. I don’t eat that much anyway.”

“Jose.”

“Roger!” He leaped up and snatched Mouka’s bento from her hands. “Thank you por your oppering, shukran!”

“You always offer your food, the only time we’ve ever seen you eat is in the evening,” Suruj pointed out, as Mouka lifted her head upwards to him.

“Food most of the time looks absolutely disgusting to me,” She explained, twirling her silver hair, “I’ll eat when I have to.”

“Ah well you’re missing out,” Jose finished her meal, “Having food like this everyday is a treasure. Back in the Luzokapital, the gang and I would work just to get one loaf of pandesal for ourselves.”

“Eh? Has your tongue evolved from speaking Khoit to spitting trash?” Mouka leaned over with a small grin.

“I’m the best teacher around, I taught you and Tvuj perpekt Galag,” Jose puffed his chest, pointing to himself. “No more nosebleeding!”

“Oh? Discrediting my teaching ability? Khoit is the easiest language to learn in this world.”

“Then let’s ask her. Tvuj Hosyi!” Jose stood proud in akimbo. “Doudarou? You became fluent in Galag thanks to me, right? Right?..”

Tvuj’s shoulders perked up to the sound of her name. Nervously, she turned her head to him.

“Actually I already knew Galag beforehand so…” Her voice was low. Jose looked grim. “But my accent became better because of you so, thank you…”

“Hah! See Mouka?” Jose shouted loudly.

“Hehe, so you’ve asked her in Azu. I can’t wait to laugh when you talk to Hyun-woo,” Mouka snickered.

“It’s the Z̆ongren’s fault for their language. First tone, seventh tone, tone this, tone that,” Jose spoke using broken Renhua. “They don’t even use the Dhaj script.”

“Greetings!” Saya bounced out of the CR, shaking the water off her hands. Everyone else returned the message as she sat down on one of the benches. A large portion of her hair was silver, in contrast to the pure black when they first met. He had never seen anything like it.

“...”

“...”

Awkwardness crept in, even after more than a month had passed. Saya’s opinion on the tournament was the minority, compared to the majority of them wanting to abolish the Dineh Kazaàd. However, even so, she hated Thiệu just as the rest of them.

“Aren’t you scared?” She asked. It wasn’t directed at anyone specifically. “That the tournament is in a month.”

“Who wouldn’t be scared? All of our lives are on the line here,” Suruj responded.

“And some of us gotta go home,” Jose stood, “I’m scared that I left my gang without any notice. If I die here now…”

“Oi, if you say that you’ll die this instant,” Mouka kicked his legs.

“And you?” Suruj added, “After this thing blows over, what will you do?”

Mouka turned towards him and looked Suruj in the eyes. Her bright green eyes frightened him a little.

“That’s a secret.”

“After this, why don’t we chase down the rest of Al-Wa?” Saya suggested. “If they really are forcing people to fight, then we should take action-”

“With the death of Thiệu, then Al-Wa will crumble on its own. If anything, the government will take care of the rest,” Suruj answered.

Mouka leaned to one side, “And what will you do when you get out of here huh?”

“...” He clenched his three fingers. “I’m going to get into the university.”

They had made it so far, but yet Suruj felt like they weren’t doing enough to stop the CEO. That they weren’t strong enough. He felt that they would never be able to match him. Perhaps with all of them combined, maybe they had a chance.