Third day of the Selection

The broadcast all last night was full of replays and discussions on the matches of the day. Despite only being in one out of the ten matches that took place, I was the most talked about. Videos of me powering through a hailstorm of bullets to reach Kim were analyzed from multiple angles. The commentators constantly emphasized how I was the only one with a Gift who didn't use it to win, even though I'm sure my Gift helped me survive those bullets. In fact, Dr. Omura was even invited to the broadcast to assess my bullet wound healing rate and my body's response to General Caelum's Gift.

Morgan also won their match, but there was only a short fifteen-minute segment showing it. They teleported all over the arena throughout the duel, which makes it a fascinating watch. I wished more of it was shown so I could analyze it and figure out how to take them on. I don't know why it didn't get that much coverage. Maybe this teleporting fighting style was too unique and thus too difficult to comment on.

And today, it's the semifinals. My opponent is Joaquin Romero, who is sponsored by General Lucius Romero, his uncle. Unlike General Caelum, who sponsors only the best cadet with the goal of getting them into NovaTopia, General Romero sponsors anybody he has a personal connection to regardless of qualifications. He's gotten most of his family and friends to one of the space stations this way. I wish I had that many family members, then I wouldn't be stuck with Ryan.

The four arenas from yesterday have been merged into two. Romero and I enter our designated arena, while Morgan and Nicolas Bailey enter the one across the stadium.

Next to me, Romero's skin glistens with a metallic sheen, mirroring the sword he wields. That is General Romero's Gift—Harden, the ability to turn one's body as hard as metal—and Romero is activating it already. I can't have my Gift activated all the time like him, so I need to be strategic in the way I use it.

I tighten my grip around my weapon as we circle each other warily. When the arena door closes, signaling the start of the match, Romero wastes no time lunging towards me.

I raise my sword to block his path, but it shatters upon the impact of his Hardened arm. Great, one second in, and I've already lost my weapon. I scramble back and focus on avoiding both his sword and his limbs.

Every time there's an opening—which is a lot since Romero is not that good at close combat—I throw a punch at him, but it seems to cause way more harm to my knuckles than to him. And every time he manages to land a hit on me, even if it's just a graze, the pain is excruciating. I heard that being hit by a Hardened fist hurts ten times more, and now I know it's true.

To Earth with his annoying Gift. I need to start using mine too.

I direct heat to my right palm. Just a little, not enough for it to smoke and give my plan away. With a swift sidestep, I dodge Romero's oncoming blade. Then, I grab his arm and increase the heat.

Romero yells and leaps back, his sword slipping from his grasp. "Ow!"

I snatch the fallen sword. One minute in, and I've regained my weapon. But Romero does not even notice that; his attention is solely on examining and massaging the spot where I burned him.

"Seriously, what the Earthing shit was that?" he mutters. "That was Earthing painful. How can you stand that?"

I frown. I don't think I hurt him that badly. Maybe his Hardened skin conducts heat better and intensifies the pain. "Sorry. What if I use the sword instead?"

I hold up the said weapon and channel heat into my hands. Smoke rises from my burned flesh, but the beauty of the heated metal is a distraction from the pain. The stainless steel morphs from a silvery sheen to a deep brown, and finally, to a mesmerizing blend of blue and purple.

"Holy shit." Romero's hands shoot up. "I- I give up!"

Huh?

Blinking amidst the smoke, I lower the sword. Did Romero just... give up the match? But it barely lasted a few minutes.

The stadium crowd erupts into boos and jeers. Above the noise, the commentator's booming voice exclaims that this could be the shortest semifinal match ever. My fingers tremble as the now-cooled sword clatters to the ground. The pain from the burn is finally hitting me with full force. My head spins. I take in a few deep breaths.

"Oh, go ahead and boo me for quitting!" Romero shouts at the crowd. "Look at her gross hands and tell me you won't do the same!"

My... gross hands?

As if sensing my thoughts, he turns to me. "Good grief, Lorensky, you're insane, you know that?" He's teasing me, but I can hear the fear lingering in his voice.

He is frightened, like the way Kim was.

As he walks out of the arena, I look down at my hands. They're mostly healed now—and no longer 'gross'—but they still have an unnatural pink color. I lower my gaze to the sword. It's deformed, a mangled form of its original shape.

This Gift truly is insane, isn't it?

"Cadet Lorensky." Dr. Omura interrupts my thoughts. He smiles at me. "It's time for your second transfer of your Gift. Come with me, let me give you a quick check-up first."

My heart sinks. I don't know what to feel about getting any more of this Gift. But this is what General Caelum wanted me to do. So, I nod slowly before following the doctor to get another dose of this horrifying Gift.

***

Fourth day of the Selection

Unsurprisingly, my opponent in the finals is Morgan.

After being neck-to-neck in the entirety of our cadet days, this is our final showdown. This is what I've been training for.

Morgan stands next to me in front of the arena door. My shoulder bumps into their cyberarm. It shines like the moon under the stadium light.

"You okay?" they ask.

I look at my palms. They stare back at me, pale and unscathed. "Hey, Morgan, I think... I don't want to use my Gift anymore."

"What? Why not?"

"It's painful."

"So?"

"Kim was so frightened of it, and Romero quit the match immediately because of it. I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm not like them. I can heal, unlike Min-Ju, and I'm not a little bitch like Joaquin."

A smile tugs at my lips. "You don't get it, Morgan. I'd rather not win than to hurt anybody like that again. Why don't we just spar normally, you know, like our close combat practice matches?"

"Lara."

I meet their eyes. They are so dark and intense.

"We have to show them the full extent of our abilities," they say. "They need to see how powerful we are. How deserving of the win we are. So use your Gift, and don't you dare go easy on me."

I glance from my hands to Morgan once more. "Okay, if that's what you want. Don't you dare go easy on me too."

"Of course not." They raise their brows. "How about this? Let's compete with only our Gifts and ourselves. No weapons, no nothing. Just the two of us in the arena, going all out one last time."

"You know what? I like that idea. Let's do that." I elbow them in the abdomen. "If you win, it'll be historic. The first Ground Earth winner of the Selection."

"And if you win, it'll be historic too. The first winner of the Selection with such a soft heart."

I laugh as I bump against them again. "You know, I think I like this more than our usual trash talks."

"Me too." The door opens in front of us. Morgan raises a fist at me. "Let's do this."

I bump their fist and we walk in together amidst the crowd's cheers.

As soon as the door closes behind us, Morgan vanishes from my side. Why is everyone so much faster than me at getting into fight mode?

Crouching down and holding my fists out, I dart my eyes around the arena. A blurred dark spot approaches in my peripheral vision and I instinctively shuffle out of the way—Morgan's cyberarm barely misses my head. I lunge at them with my heated palms, but they teleport away before I can touch them.

I curse at myself. I need to be much quicker with Morgan.

"Hey, pay attention," their voice calls out from behind.

I turn around and swing my fist at where I think their face is, but they're no longer there. Instead, a sharp kick strikes my back. I fall and then roll over to get back up, ready to fight again.

Morgan disappears and reappears all around me. No matter how alert I am, it's not enough to anticipate their attacks. I find myself spinning in circles, throwing punches that do not land, and getting hit from unexpected directions. It's so disorienting that it's giving me a headache. It also doesn't help that Morgan's cyberarm feels a little like Romero's Hardened limb.

I need a new strategy. Perhaps if I find some ways to block the space behind me, there will be fewer surprises. So, I sprint to the boundary of the arena and press my back against the corner. I won't have to worry about Morgan teleporting behind me. Except, now they are nowhere in the arena. Where can they be— Oh.

I scramble away right before Morgan can crash down on me from above. And just like that, my strategy is ruined.

"You shouldn't be running away constantly, you know," Morgan says with a smirk. "It's time to use your Gift to the fullest."

"And you shouldn't be giving your opponent advice."

They give me a cheeky wink in response before vanishing into thin air.

They were right, however. I was holding back on my Gift, wanting to only activate it when I could get a hold of them. But there is more I can do. General Caelum made me practice whole-body combustion for a reason.

I clench my fists and take in a deep breath, bracing myself for the pain. Everything around me blurs into a haze and the sounds fade away. But even with the flames consuming my senses, I can still hear the crowd and commentators exploding into a frenzy.

The pain is unbearable; I want to scream, but I bite down on my teeth to stifle it. The pain even dulls the punch that Morgan throws me. When they withdraw their hand, I see the burn marks on their knuckles.

I've hurt them.

Their eyes meet mine and they grin. They silently mouth, "Don't go easy on me," before disappearing.

And as promised, I keep my body ablaze.

The flames do not stop Morgan from continuing their barrage of attacks from all directions. I still try to hit them, but it is difficult to keep my concentration. My head is swirling, my lungs are filled with smoke, and my throat is constricting.

At last, I successfully grab onto them. We fall to the ground, flames engulfing the both of us.

My vision gradually narrows to a dim pinhole, where all I can see is Morgan's widened eyes. The back of my head hits the ground, and darkness envelops me.

The last thing I hear is Morgan's cry.

"Lara!"