Ranvir’s throw secured the victory and ended the round with a stunned moment of quiet. He was too occupied by the flaring emotions to fully appreciate it. Instead, he walked off to take a breather.

Reds and oranges predominated, with yellow coming in with a strong third. Lately, Ranvir had been feeling them like blazing fires, but now they beat against the walls of his insides, hammering down all other colors as they flailed with pent up energy.

He wanted to hurt Curls, to wound him. He’d hit Curls’ stomach, but he wanted to strike the neck. Hands opened and shut on reflex. For a second Ranvir wasn’t sure if it was the colors doing, or his own.

Luckily, most of the rounds took a decent amount of time to set up and Ranvir had no more fights before the class was over. He saw Sansir and Grev approach only to be stopped by Esmund, who in turn only gave him a nod and distance.

A flicker of bright white with a tint of yellow glimmered before a surge of violent yellow tinted towards orange hammered through it and dissipated the emotion. Ranvir closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. He should try meditating or something really calming, but he wanted to do something. Hit something.

He burst into a run and he kept going until legs felt too weak to continue.

“I’m going to take it slower this time.” Ranvir promised as they headed for weapons class. “I’ve just been overworking myself. Master Stjarna said as much. I just didn’t take him too seriously.”

He could tell they didn’t really believe him, but that they’d also noticed his lack of powers. It was uncomfortable, going on without the knowledge and enhanced senses embracing the pressure gave him, but it very well might be necessary.

He hadn’t touched it all day. Avoiding it had been difficult, which told him it probably was a good idea. A short break, at least.

“Just make sure you’re okay.” Grev said, grabbing his shoulder in a friendly gesture. Ranvir nodded as they arrived at the field. He notices most of the other students had showed up early too. A swirling twinkling blue amusement ran lengths inside him as he noticed.

The good fights were today.

Esmund had done surprisingly well throughout the tournament. Ranvir hadn’t thought of his friend as that good, but apparently compared to the average student with less than two months training, he was doing well.

Still, his first match of the day was against Grev.

Technically, Esmund had the reach advantage against the blond tethered with his long spear, but from the way the fight turned out you’d be forgiven for thinking all the advantages lay in Grevor’s favor. He dominated the fight. From the terrain, to his movements, to their abilities with weapons, to his experience. It looked like a play and Esmund was the weak guard and Grev the hero.

Ranvir slapped his friend on the back in consolation after his decimation. He didn’t even have any bruises. Just two red marks on his neck for each of Grev’s touches. Ranvir tried not to stare at the perfect symmetry of those marks. He didn’t want to hurt Esmund’s feelings too badly.

Ranvir was the next of their group up for a fight. As it currently looked, he would end up fighting Sansir before the finale between Sansir and Grev. Unsurprising as Master Vigo had created the brackets and was probably well aware of the skill levels of his students.

He decided on embracing the pressure well before the fight began and reach that state of sensing the world again. It took effort and he missed most of the rounds between Es and his, but he managed something like it.

He felt a beat pounding in the back of his mind, registering the world in crisp detail. But it was quieter, making it far less evident what was happening. Faster too. Maybe twice as fast as it had been yesterday.

When Ranvir first walked into the arena, he’d been disappointed.

When he’d laid his opponent down as quickly as Sansir or Grev could’ve managed it, both times. He realized the details lost from the strength was more than made up for by the consistency.

Returning to his seat, he knelt next to Es. He noticed his short friend’s smile faltering for a moment before reasserting itself, but Ranvir paid it no attention. He was too focused on the feeling. He felt like he was interpreting a different part of the same beat from yesterday.

He shook his mind off that track. He could worry about the future of the ability later, right now simply bridging the gap was more important. Rounds passed in stern concentration and Ranvir slowly tuned the beat to an even weaker but constant buzzing. Even before he needed to fight again, he realized that he was getting nearly no detail, even when looking at someone directly.

There was a definite sweet spot between frequency and strength. Striking it would be difficult.

Ranvir startled as Es shoved him with his elbow. “Good luck.” He muttered. The space tethered blinked as he looked up seeing a tall, bald student standing in the ring. Sansir had a stern look in his eyes, his forearms taut where the sleeves were rolled up displaying powerful muscle.

Ranvir’s own wasn’t very different. His were, if anything, stronger and more muscled. It just didn’t seem to matter as much when his opponent was two meters tall.

He swallowed as he stepped towards the weapon rack, before entering the arena, beat stirring in the back of his mind. Ranvir picked a hammer, choosing the weapon he was most familiar with. He’d found a happy mid point in the beat. It was slightly faster than what he’d started with.

Not so strong as to tell him everything, but rapid enough that he could detect even small and quick movements.

I can do this. Ranvir told himself. I have the tools, the power to win.

“Ready.” He voice was calm as he spoke.

Sansir echoed him.

“Begin!” Master Vigo yelled.

The ice tethered burst into motion, Ranvir following his movements with ease. Readying himself to slip the axe and strike him down.

A kick? Ranvir’s mind stuttered as he realized the axe swing was a feint. He saw the leg coming now, moving to sweep his feet out from underneath him. Eyes widening, Ranvir tried to pull back but Sansir’s foot caught him on his now air-born shin. The sweep spun him, throwing him to the ground.

Ranvir blinked as he felt Sansir’s axe touch against his shoulder.

He feinted. Ranvir realized with stunned surprise. He knew it was possible, of course. His last opponent had tried something similar but it had been laughably easy to read the move and act on his actual attack.

Of course, Sansir would feint. It’s his preferred opener on someone when the reach difference is this big. Ranvir kicked himself as he rolled to his feet.

Flickers of orange annoyance rose in him, threatening on red, but Ranvir held it back. He turned his attention back to his opponent who was once more standing opposite him on the field. He hadn’t even moved before the first round was over.

Ranvir tried turning the beat on Sansir, but it refused to focus like his other senses would. It would have to be good enough.

This time, Sansir moved slower keeping his weapon up and at the ready. Ranvir noticed the slight slack in his right arm. He would have trouble getting it back into place, if Ranvir could pull it away quickly enough.

Moving in, Ranvir first diverted Sansir to the left, opposite his axe. They exchanged a few times, before he twisted delivering a hook to Sansir’s middle that he would have to pull his arm back to block, opening him up to Ranvir’s hammer strike.

Sansir took the punch to his core, barely grunting before the axe touched down on Ranvir’s shoulder.

Blinking, Ranvir stepped back. “You win.” He sounded perplexed to himself. There was a weird feeling of detachment as he sat back down. He’d expected to win, if not easily then to at least pull through at the end. He’d seen Sansir’s every move, known what he was about to do well before his friend attempted it. Even the feint, he’d had the chance to react and he’d made it worse.

He’d seen everything and somehow made the wrong choice every time. He’d seen the opportunity to strike and took it only for Sansir to turn it into a trap. He’d committed to a hit that hadn’t worked.

“That’s disappointing.” Ranvir muttered, Esmund shushed him and pointed to the arena. Sansir and Grev were slowly approaching each other. Their eyes intent in a way Ranvir hadn’t seen in their spars before. There was a focus to their movements that had also lacked.

This wasn’t training speed. They both wanted to win.

Sansir moved first, his axe twirling into a perfect strike. Grev dodge away, then retaliated with three quick slashes. Sansir dodged the first, parried the second but took the third.

“First touch, Grevor.” Master Vigo called out.

They reset.

Sansir came in hot during the approach, pressing Grev with his superior reach. It was only through sheer speed of reflexes that the blond managed to defend himself at all. Still, weapons moving at speed were impossible to perfectly block all the time. It wasn’t much, Ranvir barely saw it. The axe caught against Grev’s shirt, grazing his shoulder, before it pulled free.

“Touch, Sansir.” Vigo called out.

They all watched with bated breath as they reset for the last time. Ranvir noticed Grev’s neutral face. His rare stoicism on full display, but Sansir’s face was set in determination but there was a grim undertone to his mouth.

“Begin.” Vigo called out for the last time.

They approached each other carefully, slow and methodical steps laid with more deliberation and precision than the rest of the class could fathom.

“Why isn’t Sansir charging?” Esmund muttered.

“It wouldn’t work twice.” Ranvir replied. “Grev’s too experience a combatant to let himself fall to it again. Sansir needs to outsmart or outmaneuver him.”

“Can he?”

Ranvir didn’t answer instead turning his attention back to the arena. Weapons clashed briefly before both pulled away. Weapons whipping through air. Heavy breaths despite brief activity.

They exchanged again. Then once more. Ranvir couldn’t tell what the other was thinking. Sansir’s face remained grim, nor did Grev’s change.

Then it was over. Grev initiated another testing exchange. Sansir’s bashed Grev’s sword away with ease, the axe continuing over the blond’s now bowed head. Wide eyed, Sansir pulled back, but Grev was already slashing him across the stomach with the back stroke.

“Winner, Grevor Brightstone!”

The class cheered as Grev’s face lit up in victory. Master Vigo congratulated both of them on their stellar performance throughout the tournament. Sansir even going so far as to hug Grev to show there were no hard feelings.

Ranvir felt a pressure around his chest let off. Training speed and combat speed hadn’t been a huge difference. He might not even have noticed it if not for his senses, but the intensity was a wholly different beast.