The announcer's voice echoed across the vast stadium.
"Hunter Division, Under-Ten Bracket!"
"First Match!"
"Krishak Jena of the National Awakener Academy versus Ritesh Batra of the Western Defense Academy!"
A wave of excitement swept through the crowd. Many spectators leaned forward in anticipation.
The six-year-old prodigy who had recently become the talk of the academy world was finally stepping into the national spotlight.
Krishak walked calmly to the center of the arena.
Across from him stood Ritesh Batra, a broad-shouldered boy of nine.
Ritesh's aura was stable and powerful.
Peak Great Martial Warrior.
An impressive level for his age.
He looked at Krishak and smiled confidently. "I've heard a lot about you."
Krishak inclined his head politely.
"I look forward to our match."
The referee raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Ritesh attacked first. His footsteps thundered across the platform as he launched a heavy straight punch.
Krishak sidestepped effortlessly.
The second attack came as a sweeping kick.
Krishak leaned back just enough to avoid it.
The audience murmured.
Ritesh's attacks were powerful and well-trained.
But to Krishak, they were too direct.
Too easy to read.
After several exchanges, Ritesh committed to a full-force charge.
Krishak moved.
He rotated his body, redirected the incoming force, and drove two fingers into a precise point along Ritesh's shoulder and neck.
Ritesh froze.
His arm went numb instantly. Before he could recover, Krishak placed a palm against his chest and guided him backward. Ritesh stumbled out of the ring.
The referee paused for a moment, then raised his hand. "Winner: Krishak Jena!"
For a heartbeat, the stadium fell silent.
Then applause erupted. The entire match had lasted less than a minute.
Ritesh had not been overwhelmed by brute force.
He had been outmaneuvered completely.
In the viewing area, several instructors exchanged surprised glances. "That level of control is extraordinary."
"He fights like a veteran."
Ritesh returned to the ring and bowed.
"That was amazing."
Krishak returned the gesture. "You have a strong foundation. Continue refining your timing."
Ritesh blinked, then smiled. "I will."
In the competitor stands, Vikram grinned.
"As expected."
Aisha nodded. "He didn't waste a single movement."
Instructor Rajan folded his arms, hiding his satisfaction.
Principal Rao allowed himself a small smile.
The academy's decision to send Krishak was proving more than justified.
Among the VIP spectators, several representatives from major organizations took note.
A military officer said quietly, "That child possesses exceptional combat insight."
A noble family elder narrowed his eyes. "His talent may be worth cultivating."
Krishak, however, remained unaware—or unconcerned.
He had no interest in external praise.
Back in the waiting room, Krishak sat down and closed his eyes.
His next opponent would likely be stronger. The purpose of competition was not merely to win.
It was to learn.
To test one's progress.
To reveal weaknesses.
Krishak reviewed the brief exchange with Ritesh.
His own movement efficiency remained excellent, but there was always room for refinement.
Later that evening, the tournament bracket updated.
Krishak had advanced comfortably to the second round. He stood by the window of his room, looking over the lights of the capital.
The path ahead was long.
The tournament was only one small step.
But every step mattered.
Krishak closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he would enter the arena again.