Chapter 61: Ten thousand mark
Holden stared at the notification for a moment.
He had eleven thousand, seven hundred and ninety kill points.
He’d crossed the . The number felt significant somehow. He was still a long way from the hundred thousand he needed for the 10,000x multiplier, but the gap didn’t feel as impossible anymore.
The Blood Colosseum Tournament would pay out much more than the Pit. Elite fighters meant elite KP rewards. If he won that tournament, if he took out Varga and anyone else stupid enough to get in his way, he might cut the distance to his goal by a third. Maybe more.
He looked down at the four unconscious Iron Fangs.
They’d wake up in a few hours with headaches and broken pride. They’d report back to Varga that some masked fighter had ambushed them. Varga would be angry, but he wouldn’t connect it to Holden Voss. Nobody connected Asura to the academy freshman with the disciple badge.
Holden stepped over the bodies and walked toward the street.
The rain was coming down harder now. His cloak billowed slightly in the wind. His iron mask reflected nothing.
Under the mask, he smiled.
Varga wanted to raid the Prime Zone. He wanted to do Draven’s dirty work for money.
Instead, he was going to walk into a cage with Asura. He was going to find out exactly what it felt like to fight someone who thought they were the predator.
And then he was going to kill him.
In front of hundreds of witnesses who would cheer for the winner and forget the loser by morning.
Holden reached the street and turned into the shadows.
Morning light filled the Prime Zone kitchen.
Maeve sat across from Holden with her Ashen Bestiary open beside a stack of old academy underworld reports she’d somehow acquired. Her tea was untouched and going cold. Her eyes moved rapidly between the pages, scanning for something specific.
"Varga," she said, not looking up. "Rank 2, 5-Star. Former military. Discharged for excessive brutality. Now leads the Iron Fangs mercenary gang."
She flipped a page.
"Combat style is aggressive, relies on overwhelming force. He uses a massive battle axe with a tough handle."
Another page.
"I checked three separate incident reports, and they all show the same vulnerability. Whenever he leans into a heavy swing, he twists his torso to generate power, which leaves a brief opening just below his ribs on the right side. It’s a small gap, but it’s consistent."
She pushed her glasses up and finally looked at him.
"Strike below ribs while he swings. Don’t try to block. Just get inside his guard and hit the gap. It won’t kill him at your current level, but it’ll stagger him. That’s your opening."
Holden sipped his tea. "You found all this in old academy reports?"
"Underworld reports. The academy keeps files on dangerous criminals in case they need to send strike teams. Varga’s file is thick. He’s been on their watch list for three years."
She closed the book.
"He’s dangerous, Holden. Rank 2, 5-Star is only four stars below Vespera. That’s a serious threat."
"Try more like eight stars," Holden said.
Maeve blinked. "What?"
"She’s Rank 4. Not Rank 2, 9-Star like most people assume."
Maeve’s face went pale.
"Eight stars," she repeated quietly. "That’s... that’s not even the same tier."
"Which means Varga is nowhere near her level. It changes the math."
Maeve stared at him for a long moment. Then she shook her head and went back to her notes.
At the academy training grounds, the morning sun was warm and bright.
Holden stood at a sparring ring with Lyra and Emric. Renna sat on the sidelines, eating an apple and providing unhelpful commentary.
Lyra moved smoothly. Every thrust of her spear flowed into the next perfectly. The frost energy that danced along her weapon was controlled now, shaped by the Asura energy that had healed her core.
Holden caught her spear shaft on his forearm and redirected a thrust into a miss.
"Your form is smoother," he observed.
"The healing helped," Lyra said, resetting her stance. "My core feels balanced for the first time in months. Whatever you did, it worked."
Emric stepped in from the side with his shield raised. "My defensive positioning has improved by approximately twelve percent since our last sparring session. I’ve been adjusting my footwork patterns based on the tournament data."
"Good. Show me."
They sparred for another hour. Lyra’s precision. Emric’s geometry. Holden testing both of them with controlled strikes that pushed their limits without hurting them.
When they finally broke for water, Lyra sat on the ring edge beside Holden. Her brow was furrowed.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"Vespera warned us that Draven’s family hired underworld hitmen. Iron Fangs, specifically. Are you taking this seriously?"
Holden drank from his water bottle. "Yes."
"You don’t seem worried."
"I’m not."
"Holden, these are professional killers."
"And we’re inside a warded estate with an instructor’s protection. Cheap hitmen won’t get past the security. Vespera made that clear."
Lyra studied his face. "You know something."
"I know I’m tired and thirsty and want lunch."
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop.
Before leaving campus, Holden stopped by Instructor Vespera’s office.
She was at her desk, reviewing reports with cold efficiency. She didn’t look up when he entered.
"Close the door."
He did.
"Draven’s family has been busy," she said without looking up. "I’ve intercepted three messages from their legal team trying to find loopholes in your disciple protection. They’re grasping at straws."
"They can keep grasping."
"Perhaps. But desperate people do desperate things." She finally looked up. "I’m giving you these."
She slid a small glass bottle across the desk. Inside, five golden pills sat in neat rows.
"High-grade stamina pills. Each one will restore your energy reserves by forty percent in under ten seconds. Keep them with you. If Draven’s family tries anything desperate, you’ll need them."
Holden picked up the bottle and tucked it into his jacket.
"Thank you."
Vespera’s eyes narrowed slightly. She leaned forward in her chair, studying him with that penetrating gaze that made most students want to run.
"Something about you has changed, Voss."
Holden kept his expression neutral. "I’ve been training."
"Not training. Something else." She tapped her fingers on the desk. "Your physical aura feels heavier. More durable. Like your body has been compacted and reinforced in a way that doesn’t match your documented rank."
Holden shrugged. "Must be the academy food."
"Don’t play games with me."
"I’m not. I genuinely enjoy the cafeteria meatloaf."
Vespera stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes searched his face for any crack in the facade.
She didn’t find one.
"Get out," she said flatly. "And stay safe."
Holden walked to the door.
"Always do."
It was evening time at the Prime Zone.
The Aegis Ward hummed at maximum power, visible as a faint blue shimmer along every wall. The estate was locked down tight. Nothing was getting in or out without Maeve’s approval.
Maeve stood in the living room, watching Holden prepare.
"The ward is at maximum," she said. "I’ve triple-checked the perimeter settings. Nothing gets through without my authorization."
"Good."
She studied him as he pulled on his dark clothing. The heavy cloak. The gold mask.
"Be careful."
"Always."
"Holden."
He paused with the mask in his hands.
"I mean it. This is different from the Pit. The Blood Colosseum is serious. These are elite fighters. Not brawlers looking for quick cash."
"I know."
"So don’t do anything stupid."
"When have I ever done anything stupid?"
Maeve gave him a look that said she had a very long list if he wanted examples.
Holden pulled the mask on. The world narrowed to the thin slits, dark and anonymous.
"Keep the door locked," he said, his voice already shifting into that distorted Asura tone. "I’ll be back before dawn."
He opened the front door and stepped into the night.