Charles followed Lira through the Storm Clan's hallways, his heart racing with nerves and excitement.
Lira's warning about not using his power echoed in his head, but he felt confident.
'A Custodian can't be that tough,' he thought, smirking.
The system's holograms and Lira's training gave him some assurance, though his muscles still ached from the practice.
Lira marched quickly, her black tunic billowing, saying nothing, making the silence between them a bit awkward.
They reached an open area Charles hadn't seen before—a circular arena surrounded by stone bleachers with a few people seated.
The floor was packed dirt, marked with white lines outlining the combat circle.
In the bleachers were fighters in black tunics, some with colored trim, and a couple of servants whispering among themselves.
At the arena's center stood two men: a young guy in a black tunic with faded red trim, like the dye job was half-done, and an older man in a gray tunic, likely the referee.
Charles frowned at the opponent's tunic. He leaned toward Lira and whispered, "Hey, is that tunic badly dyed or what? The red edges look like a mess."
Lira shot him a sidelong glance, replying softly, "It's not badly dyed, idiot. That's how Custodian tunics are. This guy controls fire, so get ready."
Charles nodded, though the mention of fire made him a tad nervous.
'Fire versus lightning…' he thought. 'If I could use my power, this'd be a cinch.'
But he knew he couldn't risk it.
One suspicious move, and he'd be in deep trouble.
He glanced at the referee, who eyed him with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.
"Ready, servant?" the man asked, his tone suggesting he didn't expect much.
Charles gave a thumbs-up, forcing a grin.
"More than ready," he said, stepping into the circle.
The murmurs in the bleachers grew louder.
Servants whispered things like:
"Is he really fighting?"
"This is gonna be a disaster."
The black-tunic fighters seemed more incredulous, some chuckling among themselves.
"A servant against a Custodian," one said, shaking his head.
"This is over before it starts."
Charles ignored them, focusing on his opponent.
The Custodian, Lucian, was tall, with short hair and an arrogant smirk. His hands hung relaxed at his sides, but Charles noticed a faint red glow on his fingers, like he was itching to roast him.
Before taking his spot in the corner, Charles waved Lira over.
She frowned, walking toward him with arms crossed.
"What, you giving up already?" she asked dryly.
Charles laughed, shaking his head.
"Nah, nothing like that," he said. "Just need one thing from you."
He paused, lowering his voice.
"Repeat what you told me in your room…"
Lira blinked, clearly confused.
"What?" she said, leaning in. "I say a lot of stuff, Rian. What're you talking about?"
Charles sighed, scratching his neck.
"Oh, come on…" he said. "Just tell me to go all out against this guy."
Lira stared, like she was trying to decide if he was an idiot or just joking.
'Is he… asking me to hype him up…?' she thought, baffled.
The referee cleared his throat, visibly impatient, and the bleacher murmurs grew.
Finally, Lira sighed, rolling her eyes.
"Fine, Rian," she said, resigned. "Go all out against that guy."
A blue panel popped up before Charles:
[Authority Recognized]
Charles grinned, a wave of confidence surging through him.
He didn't know why Lira's words triggered that system function, but he wasn't questioning it now.
'With this, I can wipe the floor with him,' he thought, striding to his corner.
Lucian eyed him, smirking mockingly.
"Ready to lose, servant?" he said, crossing his arms.
Charles didn't reply, just got into his stance—feet shoulder-width apart, fists clenched, as Lira had taught him.
The referee raised a hand, looking at both.
"Introductions!" he shouted. "On the left, Rian, servant of the Storm Clan. On the right, Lucian, Custodian rank, fire controller."
The bleacher murmurs intensified, some servants snickering, fighters shaking their heads.
The referee dropped his hand.
"Fight!" he yelled.
FWOOSH!
Lucian wasted no time. He raised a hand, and a fireball the size of a softball shot toward Charles.
The heat was intense, and the crowd held its breath.
But Charles, reflexes honed from past fights, sidestepped, dodging the fireball by inches.
ZAP!
The ball hit the ground, leaving a black scorch mark.
Without hesitating, Charles charged Lucian, closing the distance. He recalled Lira's lessons: keep balance, use momentum. He threw a straight punch, aiming for Lucian's chest.
THUD!
The hit landed hard, making Lucian stumble back with a grunt.
The bleacher murmurs turned to gasps of shock.
"What was that?" a servant said.
"He moved fast!" another exclaimed.
Lucian cursed, eyes blazing with rage.
"Damn you!" he shouted, raising both hands.
FWOOM!
His fists erupted in flames, and he swung a punch at Charles's face. But Charles tilted his body, dodging the strike.
The heat grazed his cheek but didn't connect.
SWISH!
The punch sailed past, and Lucian lost his balance for a split second.
The crowd was stunned.
"How'd he dodge that?" a black-tunic fighter whispered.
"He's a servant; he shouldn't move like that," another said.
Even Lira, at the arena's edge, had wide eyes, though she stayed silent.
Charles saw his chance. Lucian was pissed, his moves sloppier.
He noticed the Custodian's legs trembling slightly, like the fire was draining him.
'Now,' he thought.
When Lucian threw another flaming punch, Charles ducked, dodging the attack.
WHOOSH!
The fire roared over his head. In a swift move, he swept Lucian's legs with a circular kick.
THUMP!
Lucian crashed onto his back, yelping in surprise.
The crowd went quiet for a second, then erupted in murmurs.
"He knocked him down!" a servant shouted.
"No way that's real!" another said.
The black-tunic fighters exchanged disbelieving looks.
Charles didn't waste time. He pounced on Lucian, pinning him with a knee on his chest.
"Surrender," Charles said firmly, pressing hard to keep him down.
Lucian struggled, his hands still glowing faintly red. He tried raising an arm, but Charles pressed harder, making the Custodian groan in pain.
"Damn servant!" Lucian spat, but his voice wavered. He glanced around, seeing the shocked faces in the bleachers, then at Charles, whose expression left no doubt.
Finally, he sighed, relaxing his arms.
"I surrender," Lucian muttered, his face red with shame.
The referee raised a hand, his face full of disbelief.
"Victory to Rian!" he shouted.
The crowd exploded in a mix of applause, murmurs, and nervous laughter.
Some servants clapped, stunned, while the black-tunic fighters whispered among themselves, clearly annoyed.
"A servant beat a Custodian?" one said.
"This is a joke," another growled.
Charles stood, wiping sweat from his forehead. He looked at Lira, standing at the arena's edge, her expression hard to read.
She wasn't smiling, but she didn't look mad either.
Charles winked at her, flashing a confident grin.
'Told you I could do it,' he thought.
The referee approached a man in a black tunic with brown trim, likely a superior.
"You think this kid's got what it takes to be a fighter?" the referee asked, nodding toward Charles.
The brown-trim man eyed Charles, eyes narrowed.
"That remains to be seen," he said coldly.
Then he raised his voice, addressing Charles.
"Your punishment's revoked, and your servant duties end here. But listen well, Rian. Don't defy a direct order again. Next time, you won't get off with just a fight."
Charles nodded, though inside he was cheering.
'Free from scrubbing floors!' he thought, holding back a smile.
But before he could say anything, a blue panel appeared:
[Congratulations! You've reached Level 5.]
[XP: 52/1600]
[Available Upgrade Points: 1]
Charles blinked, a rush of excitement hitting him.
'Level 5!' he thought. 'Finally, another point to spend. Things are getting good.'