Max thought it was unfortunate that Regal was not among the Mystic Spear Path students he was facing. Behind them, he caught sight of Territ Mond glowering. Max didn’t care. The headmaster was not his friend. Max had no illusions to their relationship. He was being paid to fight for them, in order for the headmasters to receive benefits from Max winning. He was Territ’s mercenary, not his subordinate. And the man was likely either rooting for his downfall or maintaining neutrality. There were obvious politics in play between the headmasters.

Besides, Max still had a bone to pick with a few Mystic Spear assholes. Ultimately, Regal was responsible, directly or indirectly, for most of what Max had suffered in the Quartet. Maybe one day Max would get to meet him in person to kill him again–or to kill him for good one day. For now, punishing his friends would need to suffice.

He briefly thought that he might be taking it too far, but then he remembered Lance being tortured just for the sin of being Max’s friend. Nah, fuck these guys, he thought.

Max glanced around at the surrounding people, particularly the students. The only students who didn't look confused were his personal friends, who knew in general what this was about. The rest had absolutely no idea. Based on their expressions, it seemed the majority of them currently believed that Max was about to get torn apart. Most had gasped earlier when they’d heard his name, but apparently his notoriety was one thing. One first year facing five junior division fighters at once was another.

In the ring, the most confused person by far was Plemdo. The big man kept glancing between Max and the four Mystic Spear students who would be fighting as his allies. They stood apart from him, though.

Max turned his attention to the Mystic Spear students. Three were male. Two were human. One non-human was leonin and shaggy–the other had scales and claws. As Max and his opponents sized each other up, Adjudicator Swan moved to the edge of the ring and began walking in a circle around it. She explained, "This match has no rules. A win is decided by an opponent committing suicide or being killed. Deathless forfeits are not allowed. This match is an exhibition match, so the rules are flexible and have been modified for participant numbers. Max on one side. On the other side, Troy, Goodlight, Vray, Ho-Leon, and Plemdo. Fighters, Challengers, are you ready?"

Suddenly, a window popped up in Max's vision, similar to the ones that would appear during a duel. The window read,

You are about to have an exhibition match. Are you ready to begin?

There was both an accept and a decline button. Max waited until it looked like the rest of the challengers had hit accept. He suspected that he was the only one who had never seen one of these types of matches before.

"I have a question," said Max, raising his hand.

"Yes?" Administrator Swan's eyes narrowed as she called out, "I recognize the Tested. Ask your question."

Max said, "Does the match start as soon as everybody hits accept?"

"That is correct," said Swan.

"Okay, good to know," said Max. He wondered if he could energize his body before the match itself started but decided not to try. He'd noticed that there was a shortage of information being supplied and wondered if this was some sort of sneaky way to disqualify him from the fight before it even started. Another thing he'd noticed was that none of the Mystic Spear students had even leveled their spears at him yet. So, following what his opponents were doing and staying in a neutral stance, Max pushed “accept.” But the moment he did, and he saw a new screen that flashed:

Competition Start

Max immediately moved. Now he had the advantage because even if the difference was only a split second, he knew exactly when the match had started. His opponents would have been smarter if one of them had held off on pushing accept until they were sure that Max had.

Then again, there were five of them. They might think the fight was as good as over already.

Even as he moved forward, Max signaled for Lavinia to generate his ectoplasmic armor. He also drew his sword, the blade growing until it was full-sized, not the miniature knife-sized weapon he usually wore on his hip. At the same time, he shoved mana into his muscles, exciting the mana in his body so that it moved at an exponentially higher rate through his veins. His rush became something more. Max shot forward like a rocket, the air literally buzzing around him.

The ring was large, over one hundred meters wide and one hundred meters tall. How such a thing could fit in a building in the central area, Max wasn't sure. Probably temporal magic of some kind. The boundaries of the ring had solidified after the match started. He had no doubt that those outside could still see in clearly, but to Max now, the edges of the ring were a smooth, light gray material.

Plemdo had begun doing something with his ability. His hand turned to fire, and he was in mid-swing. Max was so fast, Plemdo didn't even get a chance to react before his body was cleaved in two. The strike had begun at the shoulder near the neck and ended at the hip. Max flashed past through a layer of lowered friction courtesy of Slick. He came to a stop facing the four Mystic Spear men who all stood gaping at him.

"So let me introduce myself," said Max. "I'm Max Cunningham, and I know that you cowardly little bitches threw spears at me and my friends a while back. I also know that in the Mystic Spear academy, surrender is not an option. I believe that includes suicide within the system. So I just want you to know, there may be four of you, but I'm not locked in here with you—you're locked in here with me. Punks." He spit on the floor and smiled, then began closing in on his prey.

At first, it was like his unexpected behavior had cast a spell on the four. He walked slowly but steadily towards them and was halfway there before one finally reacted. Thats too bad, Max thought. Maybe if they’d let him walk right up to them and start hacking, some of the audience would think he had mind control spirits or something.

At the same time that one of the human Mystic Spearmen moved, Max finished closing in. With a thought, he shrank his sword to dagger-size. Then he was among them.

The four junior Mystic Sphere Path students, some of the best in the entire Quartet for their respective years, were hopelessly outclassed. Despite all of them trying to attack him at once, none of them worked as a team. It was relatively easy for Max to dance among them using nothing but his strengthened forearm armor to block or parry blows. His miniaturized sword flashed out several times, finding flesh each time. He had the ability to end the fight pretty much any time he wanted. But instead, every calculated strike he made was a superficial wound in unfortunate places for his enemies: on the wrist, the arm, a hip, or even the back of the leg. He danced, he floated among them, and as he did so, he taunted them the entire time.

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"Didn't you know that you were signing your death sentence? You are also just bad. Cowardly and pathetic. Attacking a group of students that you outnumbered, that you believed were weaker than you? And you didn’t even wound any of them? Wow. The next time you take bribes or try to kiss the ass of some worthless, pompous, self-important liar, you should consider the consequences. And if you're confused about what the consequences are, well, you're living them right now."

Max gave the most deranged laugh he could muster. In the back of his mind, Saliron complimented, That was quite lovely. Perhaps you have truly become enlightened and will surrender me their bones after you're done with them! Max ignored his spirit. This was all a show, after all. What he wanted was for nobody in the Quartet to be willing to work with people like Regal or those like him.

The human man was the most skilled. His strikes were sharp and explosive enough that Max could actually feel his killing intent as he parried. Despite his ferocity, his eyes stayed flat and focused.

Max had half-expected Regal’s brother, Valiant, to be present, to be one of those he challenged. Now he knew why he wasn’t here. These fighters all had to be better than he was. “It’s too bad that snake Valiant isn’t here,” said Max. “I knew Regal wouldn’t be here, it’s obvious that he is too weak. But Valiant acted like he was hot shit. But if he was, I’d be cutting him to pieces instead. Pity.”

The human man repositioned and unleashed a deadly attack. Suddenly, instead of one spear point heading for Max's center of mass, there were three. Max just snorted. He ducked under the strike, parrying it upwards with his armor, and then didn't even bother to cut his enemy. Instead, his armored fist came crashing down on the other man's nose. The spearman flew backward with a spray of blood trailing from his face.

"That gives me an idea," said Max out loud. He turned to the other three. The human woman was scared, but the furry man was beyond that, showing signs on his face that he'd rather be anywhere else.

"You see," said Max, slowly keeping his distance and circling the three who were on their feet. He kept a wary eye on the human man as he got back to his feet with a bloody face. Max hadn't exactly held back on that blow, but he hadn't been gentle either. It would have killed an average person back on Earth before everything had changed. The man definitely looked worse for the wear, but he could also probably still fight. But Max intended to change that very soon.

"All of you get to thank Prince Regal and Prince Valiant for what's about to happen next. Valiant is a cowardly fuck who helped his psychotic, narcissistic brother Regal try to get revenge on me in multiple sneaky, unethical, and quite frankly, bitch-ass ways. It’s too bad Valiant nor Regal are here, but I guess they aren’t good enough. However, I know you are friends with them. Maybe some of you might have even been present behind the restaurant.” Out the corner of his eye, he saw the human man react. Bingo. “I'm going to do to you all what was done to my friend and me. I hope you enjoy it."

And with that, Max sprang at the lion man. His enemy cried out and tried to impale Max with an interesting skill that created an afterimage of spears while hiding the real one. With Max's experience, he could very clearly tell which strike was the real one. It was practically the easiest thing in the world to bob around the strike and take off the man's left leg in one clean cut.

Max sensed a strike coming from behind and sprang up in the air, swiftly parrying downwards as he turned. The response perfectly caught the spear that had been aimed for his back, leaving him a great opportunity to counterattack once he landed. A second later, and the female fighter was screaming on the ground, holding the stump of her leg as it pumped blood.

It's too bad I have nothing to cauterize these wounds with, thought Max. Oh well, Quartet bodies are tough.

The lizard man threw his spear. The missile had a surprising amount of speed and force to it, and Max quickly realized that the man had thrown the weapon at his feet, not at his body. That could only mean one thing. Instead of lingering, Max sprang to one side, quick enough to avoid even the edges of a resulting explosion. Then, before the man could complete some sort of summoning or rematerialization of the spear into his hand, Max flashed forward and Blackmist Incident took his leg too.

The dangerous human man engaged again. This Mystic Spearman, who would have been far beyond Max's ability to face what felt like a lifetime ago, seemed painfully slow to Max. It was barely an effort to slap the man's powerful strike to the side, hit him in the face with the pommel of his sword, and then bring the blade down, cleanly cutting his leg off at the knee. The man didn't scream as he fell. In fact, he somehow recovered from his botched attack and managed a wild stab at Max's head, the tip glittering green.

Max had no idea what that color signified, but he could guess that it wouldn't be good if it connected. He kicked the bottom of the spear shaft, sending the strike directly into the air. The moment it was fully extended, a beam of green light shot towards the ceiling of the grey dome. Max's sword flicked out viper-quick, taking both of the man’s hands. With this injury, the man screamed and tried holding his new stumps to his chest. Max flowed to one side, easily dodging a spray of blood from a wildly flailing arm, not batting an eye about it.

When all was done, all four of his opponents from the Mystic Spear Academy were either gritting their teeth and hissing or screaming on the ground. Max figured they would bleed out given enough time, or they would commit suicide through the system. Either way, he didn't care. The strongest fighter, the human man, bared bloody teeth at Max as he approached.

“What’s your name?”

“...Vray. I would not usually give my name to a nothing, but I have the advantage of your name already.”

“Oh, that’s rich. Pretending to be honorable, and also pretending to still be in control of this situation.” He laughed. “I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that Regal and Valiant’s friends are delusional and awful to the core.”

“You get lucky once, and suddenly you become so arrogant. I gave you the respect of a warrior and you spit on it. You should know your place.”

Max conversationally said, "Would you like me to show you what I remember of what you and your friends did to me in that alleyway?"

"Fuck off, trash," said Vray. "Have your fun, do what you will, but know this: you will suffer forever. Valiant’s family will—"

Max got tired of hearing the man’s mouth, so he casually knelt down and rabbit-punched him in the jaw full strength, shattering the bone. Vray's jaw was hanging by a thread, his tongue rolling out without any support. Strangely, he actually recognized the man in that moment. He’d been one who’d been stabbing Lance.

Well deserved.

Then Max began to methodically stab holes into Vray's extremities. Apparently, the pain and humiliation that Vray was feeling, knowing that he was currently a spectacle in front of the best and brightest of all four academies in the Quartet, was too much. The dishonor of choosing suicide was better than what Max was putting him through. He devolved into motes of light.

Max turned with a grin towards the other Mystic Spear students, all of whom were still alive. But the moment he met their eyes, they all too turned into motes of light. Suddenly, the lighting in the room changed, and the grey dome vanished. Max held his dripping sword loosely, looking back at the students who were staring at him in stunned silence. A few seconds later, there was a flash to one side of the unoccupied room as all the Mystic Spear students were reborn in the basic clothing of the Quartet. Plemdo was already standing nearby, also staring at Max with wild, hooded eyes.

Outside where the dome had been, Adjudicator Swan cleared her throat and announced, "The first exhibition has ended. Max Cunningham, winner." A moment later, a screen popped up in Max’s vision displaying the result as well.

After turning, Max gave his defeated opponents a bow and then clapped for himself. It didn't seem that anybody else was amused; nobody moved, and the room was still silent.