"Whoa," a boy gasped under his breath. "The seven supreme masters." Harry looked at them nervously. Their hair was white. Their faces were lined and unreadable. Their eyes were sharp. Too sharp. "Who are they?" Harry asked quietly.
"They are the biggest Karat Masters in the world," someone whispered back. "They must have come to spot the talented fighters among us." Harry's pulse quickened. "I will impress them," he told himself.
The masters stood up in unison and bowed. The movement was slow, deliberate, carrying authority that needed no volume. "You are here to be tested," one of them said. His voice carried effortlessly. "You either fight for your spot of greatness, or serve those who are great. This you must do with honour even if it takes your life."
Harry felt the words settle into his bones.
"Those who pass this test will be promoted to level two. Those who win three out of five will be promoted with a condition. Those who win less than three fights will repeat level one for the next circle."
A few students shifted nervously. "But those who fail to win any of his five matches will be sent to the monastery," the master continued. "Here is no place for weaklings."
Murmurs spread through the kids. Fear. Anger. Determination. Some clenched their fists so tightly their knuckles whitened. Master Kangfu raised his hand.
Silence fell instantly.
"Remember, white belt," he said. "Death is an integral part of who we are. You must protect yourself. It is more honourable to die fighting than to live while running."
The words were not dramatic. They were factual. The students bowed. Anticipation of killing settled over them, slow and heavy.
Harry straightened. His hands curled into fists. His heartbeat steadied. Somewhere in the crowd, eyes fixed on him. Watching. Waiting.
The first combat was drawing nearer. And anxiety washed over the students who didn't know who they would be fighting.
"Now listen to your names for your fight one opponent." Master Fen's voice cut through the arena like a blade. It did not rise. It did not tremble. It simply existed, heavy and final, the way judgment sounds when it has already been decided.
The murmuring stopped.
All around the arena, white belts straightened where they stood. Some wiped their palms against their robes. Some lifted their chins, trying to look braver than they felt. Others already looked defeated, shoulders slumping before their fate was even spoken aloud.
Master Fen unfolded the scroll slowly. He did not rush. One name. Then another.
Each pairing landed differently. A tall boy smiled when his opponent was smaller. A thin girl swallowed hard when she heard the name of a mountain of muscle across from her. A few whispered curses under their breath. A few laughed too loudly, the sound brittle and forced.
Harry listened. He did not move. He barely breathed. His heart beat loud enough that he was sure others could hear it. Every name felt like a drumbeat closer to his own execution. He told himself not to hope. Hope was dangerous. But it crept in anyway.
Please, he thought. Anyone but Kelly. Anyone but him.
Then the name came. "Harry Jones of Astania versus Kelly Petterson of Valley Top."
The arena tilted.
Harry's heart dropped so fast it felt like it tore something loose inside him. The sound of Master Fen's voice faded, replaced by a dull ringing in his ears. His fingers curled slowly, nails biting into his palms.
Kelly Petterson.
The name alone carried weight. It carried bruises and broken teeth. It carried whispers in dark corners and sudden silences when he walked past. Kelly was not just feared. He was obeyed.
The self-acclaimed King of the white belt.
Harry lifted his eyes. Kelly had already turned toward him. He was smiling. Not a wide smile. Not a loud one. Just a slow, knowing curl of the lips, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Kelly raised his thick hand and dragged his big thumb across his throat, slow and deliberate. "You are finished."
Harry's chest tightened. Around him, the whispers came. "He hates you." "He's been waiting for this."
"He won't stop until you're dead." The words slid into his ears, sank into his bones. Harry swallowed, his throat dry. His legs felt distant, like they belonged to someone else.
"Tag one, step into the ring." The call snapped through the tension. A girl stepped forward.
Flozy.
She was small, even for her age. Her hair was braided tightly against her scalp, and her eyes burned with something sharp and stubborn. She walked into the ring with her fists already clenched, shoulders squared as if daring the world to break her.
A boy followed.
Andy.
He rolled his neck as he stepped forward, lips curled in a sneer. He was broader than Flozy, heavier. His eyes flicked briefly toward Kelly, standing at the edge of the arena, before settling back on his opponent.
"Begin," Master Kangfu's voice boomed. Flozy did not hesitate. She lunged.
Her fist shot forward, fast and straight, connecting with Andy's cheek before he fully registered her movement. The impact snapped his head sideways.
The sound echoed. Andy staggered back half a step, shock flashing across his face before rage replaced it. "I will kill you," he growled.
"Try if you can," Flozy snapped back, already moving again.
She lifted her leg and swung it hard toward his ribs, the motion sharp and practiced. For a split second, it looked like it might land clean.
But Andy caught her leg. His fingers locked around her ankle like iron. Flozy's breath hitched. Andy pulled her closer and drove his fist forward. Straight into her right eye.
Vuuush.
The sound cut through the arena. Flozy collapsed instantly, hands flying to her face as she screamed.
"Aaahhh! My eye! My eye! My eye!"