Who The Hell Is Main Character?

High above the main seating, a private lift opened onto the uppermost level of the arena.

The elite viewing gallery was made separate from rest of the ranked and unranked cadets.

It was a place for the pillars to reside.

Separated by glass and layered barrier fields, from here, the entire arena floor stretched out below with perfect clarity.

Inessa Monfort stepped out of the lift, and walked into the viewing gallery, before taking a front seat just behind the floor to ceiling glass that amassed view of the arena.

She was strikingly beautiful. Long silver-white hair cascaded down her back, a few strands resting lightly over one shoulder. Her eyes were a clear, cool blue.

She wore a tailored charcoal coat dress that reached just below the knee, cinched neatly at the waist. Beneath it, dark fitted trousers and simple black boots kept the look practical and elegant.

A single pale ribbon held a portion of her hair loosely back, the rest left free.

Beside her stood her assistant, a tall young man in a dark academy uniform. He kept half a step behind and slightly to the side.

Below, Rafe Pretoria stood in the center in his black duel armor.

Two earth-stone spikes protruded from the ground just besides where Marcellus stood, opposite to Rafe.

"It’s a losing match," the assistant said quietly. "A support type against someone who excels in both defence and offense."

Inessa remained quiet for a moment as if remembering something.

She remembered Marcellus Severan as not the unranked heir but the boy from years ago, one who had been called a support-type with barely restrained contempt. He had hated that label more than anything.

Even when it was true, he refused to accept it as a limitation, for which she respected him. He had been brutal in training, lethal when given the chance and completely without mercy, maybe that was the reason that had turned him into a vile and heartless man.

That had been years ago. Since then, the gap between combat classifications had only widened. Those born for pure offense or defence had grown at a frightening rate, refining techniques and Force Control with every season.

Support types, analysts, scouts, by comparison, had remained exactly what they were. Just useful, secondary, and rarely decisive in a direct confrontation. And a mark of being support, from a family of combatants, was a knife put in his throat rather than a symbol of pride.

"He never liked being called support," she said at last, in a very quiet voice.

The assistant glanced at her.

"You knew him?"

"Years ago," Inessa replied. "Not a memory I would love to recall, but that was then."

[Executing: Observation.]

’If I think about it...technically I never won a fight, did I?’ Marcellus had a sudden thought facing a ready opponent for the first time.

’The brute fell to trick, and that Brandt didn’t really took me on a serious note,’ Marcellus thought.

"...fuck."

Rafe planted both feet on the ground.

Stone floor cracked in slights, and the ground around him rose above to his ankle.

"Root Anchor." He said, and bumped his fists against each other.

*Boom*

The ground that had risen up, suddenly fell, creating a massive shockwave that didn’t just sent Marcellus stumbling back, but also made a strange ringing noise within his ear.

Marcellus felt the wave within his chest.

"I don’t think I should be wasting my time on this duel anymore," Rafe got close in an instant.

Marcellus threw a guard up on instinct, forearm extended hoping to catch the fist.

But stones wrapped Rafe’s knuckles mid-swing, their size increased with the momentum of swing.

[Executing: Oscillation. Rate: 7%]

Marcellus created wave of uneven resonance between him and approaching fist of made of stones, but his calculations were extremely vague.

"Guh—!" This one landed clean. Marcellus folded slightly, breath leaving in one hard exhale.

His shoes scraped across the floor as he was forced backward.

Rafe did not give him room to recover even for a moment.

He stomped once again.

Only a deep sickening vibration shot up through the bedrock and Marcellus’s balance lurched.

Rafe’s other fist, again coated in dense rock, smashed into Marcellus’s side.

*Crack-Thud!*

Marcellus’s body lifted slightly off the ground before he crashed down onto one knee.

[Current Capacity: ~93%]

"Kh...!"

’Like that information is helping a lot!’

Rafe rolled his shoulders, already looking bored.

"Is that all?" he smirked. "I expected at least a little resistance from a Severan, but I guess you really are a fucking support type."

Marcellus wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. His bones still shivered from the minor quake Rafe had sent rippling.

"I am certain that being a Severan you’ve witnessed countless awakeners with meticulous offenses, but have you ever faced one?" Rafe spread his arms wide.

Across the arena, multiple cracks began appearing on the ground.

Fractures cascaded across arena in chains, and Marcellus balanced himself steadily as the ground shifted under his feet.

*Clatter--Crack--Shatter!*

"You should have forfeited. At least then you would’ve kept a little dignity."

Suddenly, every fracture and the broken shattered ground, pulled inward.

*VRMMMMMMMM------!*

The ground itself roared as the entire field of broken stone collapsed toward a single point with crushing force.

Rafe clasped his hands together, as the ground rose and engulfed Marcellus a whole.

From the stands, it looked completely decisive.

It was ... one sided.

But... Rafe did not relax.

He felt odd.

As if his attack had stopped in the very last moment.

The finishing collapse; the part where the orb should have compressed and crushed whatever was inside never came.

No matter how he pushed, his Force refused to move the way it should.

He couldn’t see Marcellus because he was inside the orb of shattered debris of ground, completely engulfed from his move.

He couldn’t feel him.

No...he couldn’t feel his own force.

[Observation Recorded: Zero Point.]

Rafe’s core had stopped circulating force.

The huge orb of ground that suspended in front of him, engulfing Marcellus, suddenly began to fall.

Piece by piece as the control of his force dropped.

’What...what’s happening?’ he thought.

It wasn’t just confusion.

His mind was already starting to spiral as the power he had spent his entire life mastering simply... stopped listening.

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