(Point of View: Lexo)
The pale sand felt strangely cold beneath my fingertips. I brushed the dust from my blue cloak and the slightly gelatinous mask that clung to my face, then gazed toward where the floating amphitheater had been—now replaced by the swirling, oppressive sky of Ethernatus. The Smiling Cat's echoing, bubbling laughter still rang in my ears, chilling me to the bone.
I tried to keep a cool head, to channel Pietro's logic and Dad's stoic calm, but my body refused to cooperate. My legs trembled uncontrollably, and my hands sweated inside the makeshift gloves of the cloak. A cold knot of vulnerability settled in my stomach. Vulnerable. That was the word. Without Dad's fiery sword by my side, without Mom's protective Light, without Borin's booming presence, or Lyra's foresight, Kael's elusive maneuvers, and even Urso's silent reassurance—I was completely alone.
"Damn it," I thought, a wave of self-pity washing over me, which only fueled my anger. I was a reincarnated person—the supposed adult in this mess—and yet here I was, shaking like a leaf in a magical desert. For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt utterly useless. The polished prodigy façade I always maintained cracked, revealing the scared six-year-old inside who just wanted to go home, to the comforting embrace of my strange but familiar family. I curled up in the sand, hugging my knees—a pathetically childish gesture.
"Giving up already?" came a sarcastic voice beside me. Tick-Tock, the harlequin rabbit, had landed with the lightness of a feather, his mischievous pink eyes fixed on me. "I thought you were the 'Anomalous Legacy,' not the 'Terrified Armadillo.'—a neat tactic to confuse an enemy, if that's your style."
I blinked, frustrated and embarrassed. While the Smiling Cat continued to drone on about the rules of this sadistic game ("Five hundred contestants! Only a fraction will remain! The contest ends when I say so! And no whining!"), Tick-Tock leaned close and whispered, "Listen, kid—so long as you have that watch," he said, nodding toward the pocket where I kept my uncle's relic, "you have a chance. A small one, but it's an anchor. Just remember: if the others ever learn what it truly is—and who you really are—they'll hunt you down like a mouse. So, keep a low profile, alright?"
Seeing my family again—yes, that was what I wanted. That simple, powerful desire to return to safety resonated stronger than any fear. I missed them desperately: Mom, Dad, Lila, Pietro, even the boisterous Borin, insightful Lyra, and elusive Kael. I wanted to go back to them. And to do that, I had to survive this mad circus run by that balloon-shaped kitty.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled all the stale, oppressive air of Ethernatus along with my fear. I stood up, brushing away the sand and the self-pity. It was time to apply the lessons.
Kael: Eliminate your presence—become a shadow. I closed my eyes, calmed my breathing, and focused on blurring my mana aura, making it blend in with the myriad of temporal energies pulsing in the arena.
Lyra: Observe every detail. I reopened my eyes and surveyed the vast arena around me—hundreds of figures in blue cloaks and matching masks, some already moving in tentative clusters, others standing still, assessing, as the sandy terrain and scattered rock formations blended into a surreal backdrop. In the distant walls of the arena, I caught sight of dark niches hinting at hidden weapons, as if the Smiling Cat himself had provided us with tools for this deadly contest.
Borin: Reinforce with the earth; adopt a solid combat stance. I planted my feet firmly in the sand, feeling a weak—but reassuring—connection to the ground, and shifted into a low, balanced posture.
I needed a weapon, so I dashed toward the nearest niche. Dodging a couple of contestants locked in clumsy skirmishes, I entered the niche and found an array of functional, if unadorned, swords, axes, and spears. I grabbed a long sword—manageable and well-balanced in my hand. The steel was cold and real.
Dad: Controlled fire—a constant, measured flow. I channeled my mana into the blade, recalling my training in the courtyard. The flame burst forth, this time a focused, intense sky-blue, thinly coating the metal. I maintained the flow steadily, aware it drained about 1 MP per second. I had minutes, not hours, with this technique—and that was sufficient.
Uncle Valerius: Practice fencing; use economy of movement. I assumed a basic fencing guard, ready to react, my sword poised for any swift counterattack.
Mom: Protective Light. I exhaled slowly, releasing a thin veil of my Light affinity. It wasn't an impenetrable barrier, but it would alert me to any sudden strikes and might even deflect a minor blow.
Chronos and Spatium—the sweet aroma of Time and the bitter aftertaste of Space bubbled beneath my skin. Tempting, but too risky to experiment with here. I'd trust in my mastery of what I already knew, all I'd been taught.
Then, as if on cue, the Smiling Cat laughed—a sound that made the sand tremble. "Let the spontaneous editing begin! Have fun while it lasts! Let there be light!"
CHAOS!
The arena erupted into wild motion. Screams, clashes, and spells filled the void. I scanned the frenzied scene for my next opponent—or better yet, for a way to dodge becoming someone else's first victim.
But it was too late. A tall, lanky humanoid with a blue mask zeroed in on me. He raised a hand, and a torrent of pressurized water materialized from nowhere, accelerated by Chronos to an impossible speed. I barely had time to react—the impact struck like a jackhammer, hurling me several meters backward. I landed with a dry thud, sand plastered to my wet clothes. My Light barrier had softened the blow somewhat, but the sting remained.
"Damn it," I muttered, coughing out sand. Combined magic—Time and Water. Great. This would be an intricate fight. (Mental note: discuss compound affinity naming with Pietro, if I ever get out of this.)
The coral-hued attacker advanced, preparing another accelerated jet. I remembered Urso—his ability to appear and disappear, his mastery of Space. The bitter taste of sand lingered in my mouth, a reminder of the connection between everything. I closed my eyes for a split second as the jet charged. Ignoring the instinct to dodge, I focused on that bitter flavor, the idea of space, and the invisible threads that connected all things—the Great Tapestry, yet in a more immediate, tangible form. I saw my thread, bright and unyielding; I saw the blue-masked guy's thread; I saw the strands of other nearby combatants.
What if…?
With a burst of will, I focused on a point in space just behind the coral-hued enemy. I extended my awareness, tugged my thread toward that point—and felt a nauseating dislocation, as if my stomach were trying to escape through my nose. And suddenly, I was there. Behind my opponent, who was still unleashing his jet toward my former position.
"Surprise, bastard!" I roared, my voice high-pitched with adrenaline. Taking advantage of his shock, I headbutted him hard in the back—an act that hurt even more than expected—and followed up with a slash from my celestial fire sword. The intense heat evaporated his weak residual water armor, and the blade cut cleanly. He was sent flying forward, landing in a groaning heap.
I wasn't aiming to kill him—I wasn't a murderer. Swiftly, I summoned my earth affinity, raising a mound of sand and rock around him, trapping him in an impromptu prison.
Then, my Light barrier at the back of my neck vibrated sharply—a warning. Attack from behind! Dirty play!
Instinctively, I screamed in my mind: PAUSE!
I exhaled deeply. The area around me froze. I saw, in the stasis, a steel-tipped spear hovering inches from where my head had been, as if bent on reuniting with my consciousness. Behind the spear, a hooded figure with a brown mask loomed.
"Spatium!"
Time stood still as I refocused on shifting my thread slightly to the left—just a few inches. The nauseating sensation of dislocation was less intense this time.
RESUME BABY!
The temporal pause ended abruptly. The spear hurtled past where I'd been, and then—collateral damage. It pierced through another contestant sporting an orange mask who had just materialized in its trajectory. Oops, collateral damage.
I spun around, my fire sword at the ready, and there before me stood... him. The other kid—the one who had warned me that this wasn't a place for children. He leaned casually against an absent rock, watching me with an ironic glimmer in his eyes—the only part of his face visible beneath his mask.
"Bored of playing with the easy ones already?" I asked, taking a defensive stance.
He smiled beneath his hood—I could feel it more than see it. "Just observing your technique, newbie. Not bad—improvised, but effective." Then I sensed movement: a man with bark-like skin was sneaking up. Before I could warn him, the kid nonchalantly shifted his foot, and an unseen root sprang up, impaling the tree-man's foot, sending him howling in pain.
"It seems to me," the other kid said as he turned back to me, his tone casual yet laced with challenge, "that you should let the adults fight. Perhaps watching from the stands would be safer for you."
I couldn't help but grin under my mask. "Funny you say that," I retorted. "Because it appears the only kid here is you, pretending to be a veteran."
For a moment, our eyes locked in silent acknowledgment. Then, almost in unison, we both murmured, "This is just the beginning."
And with that, we leaped—each in opposite directions—toward the heart of the chaos. The battle for survival in Ethernatus had only just begun.