042 Team Ups - Part 2 - Mark‘s POV

  New day. New css.

  It was only Tuesday, but I already felt jittery. And there was only one reason for that—Karl.

  I still hadn’t figured out what kind of “team-building activity” he was pnning. And the fact that he was being quiet about it made it even worse. Mom’s journal had an entire quest storyline involving him, which made me extra wary.

  And then there was Ron.

  Still absent.

  I wasn’t particurly close to him, but it was strange for someone as stubborn as Ron to skip css for days. I wondered what happened to him.

  But whatever. I had css to focus on.

  ESP Theory & Application.

  Master Reina kept the lecture simple today. No sudden tests, no live demonstrations—just a straightforward lesson on ESP energy efficiency and mental strain.

  Which, honestly, was a relief.

  But then came Combat Training I.

  And my relief vanished.

  Sparring. With training weapons.

  Master Reina had us pair up, though she made sure we weren’t matched against our usual partners. I ended up sparring with Gina, a brown-haired girl whose ESP gave her adhesive powers.

  She was a pain to deal with.

  Too clingy…

  It took everything I had just to keep up, and even then, I was barely managing. By the end of it, I was sweating, panting, and feeling like I had just barely survived.

  Before she left, Master Reina dropped some news.

  “I won’t be attending Combat Training II today.”

  There was a brief pause.

  Then, a quiet cheer from some students who thought they were being stealthy.

  I was definitely not one of them.

  Survival & Field Operations.

  Professor Collins’ css was a case study this time.

  We analyzed a failed mission report from a past ESPer operation, pointing out what went wrong and how it could have been avoided.

  It was interesting, though not exactly engaging since it was all theory-based.

  Still, it kept my mind off Karl and his potential schemes.

  And then Lunch Break…

  As usual, I ate with Mirai.

  But today, we had a plus one.

  Anna.

  “Ugh, I can’t believe Greg is still wearing that paper crown.” Anna muttered, stabbing at her food with unnecessary aggression. “I swearm something is wrong with that guy…”

  Finally, lunch finished, and we were back on our css schedule.

  Professor Merrick adjusted his gsses and looked over the css with his usual unreadable expression.

  "Normally," he began, his voice carrying across the room, "there wouldn’t be much sparring for this subject. Tactics & Strategy is, after all, primarily a theoretical course… in essence. But like I said, I intend this css to focus on improving combat ability."

  Some students looked relieved. Others looked bored.

  Then, he smiled.

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  "However," he continued, "seeing your potential, I’ve decided to fast-track my lessons."

  Beside me, Mirai sighed. "Great," she muttered. "More bruises."

  Karl, on the other hand, just grinned.

  Merrick motioned for us to follow him. With his usual calm efficiency, he led us out of the cssroom and toward the sparring area within the facility.

  The Combat Zone-style stage was already set up. Unlike the usual empty sparring rooms, this one was designed to simute real-world conditions—uneven terrain, obstacles, and changing environmental factors.

  Professor Merrick gestured to the field.

  "For today, you’ll be running the gauntlet—round-robin style."

  Some students straightened at that. Others exchanged looks.

  A round-robin gauntlet? That meant constant battles.

  "Team A and Team B," Merrick continued, "take your respective sides."

  Mirai, Karl, and I moved to one side of the field.

  John, Peter, Iris, and Gina took the other.

  Merrick cpped his hands, and the air buzzed as the sparring field’s barrier system activated.

  "Stand no less than forty centimeters apart," he instructed.

  We adjusted our stances.

  Merrick waited for us to settle before he began expining the rules.

  Professor Merrick cpped his hands together, drawing our attention. “The rules of engagement are simple,” he said. “The first one to fall, one hand touching the ground, loses.”

  Mirai tilted her head. “So… something like sumo?”

  I frowned. “What’s sumo?”

  Mirai looked at me, shocked. “You don’t know sumo?”

  Karl scoffed. “You uncultured idiot.”

  What? Even Karl knew what was sumo!

  Professor Merrick ignored our exchange and continued. “This will be a round robin format—each of you will face multiple opponents. The time limit is five minutes per match. If neither contender meets the conditions for defeat, both lose.” He smirked. “So don’t think you can just turtle your way through.”

  I exhaled slowly, my gaze shifting toward Team B—John, Peter, Gina, and Iris.

  John stood with his usual neutral expression, unreadable as ever.

  Peter rolled his shoulders, his stance loose but ready.

  Gina adjusted her gloves, nodding to herself as if already strategizing.

  Iris, arms crossed, looked indifferent. Either she wasn’t worried, or she didn’t care.

  On my side, Team A, there was Mirai, Karl, and me. A strange mix. Mirai had the most potential, but she was still figuring things out. Karl was powerful, but unpredictable. And me? I was just hoping not to embarrass myself.

  Professor Merrick tapped his clipboard again. “Each team, decide on your first fighter.”

  Before Mirai or I could even say anything, Karl stepped forward, arms crossed, a cocky smirk on his face. “I’ll go first.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, of course you will.”

  Mirai shot me a look but didn’t argue. It wasn’t like we could stop him.

  On Team B’s side, they actually huddled together, whispering among themselves. Unlike Karl, they actually believed in teamwork. After a few moments, they broke apart, and Iris stepped forward, adjusting her gloves.

  Karl’s smirk dropped into a scowl. “Hah? I thought you’d send Peter to counter my fire.”

  Iris shrugged. “I’m more than enough.”

  Karl cracked his knuckles, fmes flickering between his fingers. “We’ll see about that.”

  Professor Merrick grinned. “Alright then. Karl versus Iris. Take your positions.”

  Both of them stepped onto the battlefield, the atmosphere shifting. Sparks flickered between Karl’s fingertips, while Iris remained calm, simply rolling her shoulders in preparation.

  This was going to be good.

  Professor Merrick cpped his hands, drawing our attention back to him. “Since Team A has three members and Team B has four, we’ll be adjusting accordingly. That means this will be a three-match series. One of Team B’s members will sit out.”

  John, Peter, Gina, and Iris exchanged gnces. After a moment, Gina sighed and took a step back. “I’ll sit this one out,” she muttered.

  Merrick nodded. “Good. Now, let’s begin.”

  The moment Merrick signaled, Karl exploded forward, fmes bursting from his fists. A straightforward, overpowering assault—cssic Karl.

  Iris, on the other hand, vanished.

  Karl’s punch hit nothing but air.

  A flicker—she reappeared behind him. A sharp kick shed out at his side, but Karl twisted mid-motion, dodging just barely.

  “Tch,” Karl clicked his tongue and whirled around, unching another fme-infused punch.

  Gone again.

  This pattern repeated again and again and again.

  Karl would unch an attack—Iris would disappear.

  Karl would counter—Iris would reappear just out of reach.

  Five minutes of pure frustration.

  By the time Merrick called the match, Karl was fuming—literally. His fmes crackled around him, his breathing was heavy, and his scowl could have burned a hole through the floor.

  Across from him, Iris was perfectly fine. She dusted off her sleeves and crossed her arms, the smuggest look on her face.

  Merrick raised a hand. “Neither contender met the victory condition. Draw.”

  Karl clenched his fists, looking one second away from exploding.

  Then, Merrick’s gaze nded on him.

  It wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t even particurly intense. But there was something in it—a quiet, firm pressure.

  Karl stiffened.

  For a second, I thought he was going to ignore it. That he’d lunge at Iris anyway, consequence be damned.

  But then, with a sharp exhale, Karl closed his fists, extinguishing his fmes.

  “...Tch.” He turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Whatever.”

  Merrick nodded approvingly. “Good. Now, next fighters, step up.”

  I cracked my knuckles and stepped forward. “I’ll go next.”

  Gina smirked and rolled her shoulders. “I was hoping you would.” She stepped up, casual but confident. “Been looking forward to this.”

  I didn’t doubt that.

  Gina wasn’t as fshy as Karl or as tricky as Iris, but she was dangerous in a different way—one that was more subtle but just as frustrating.

  Her ESP: Adhesive Touch or something like that.

  She could stick things together with a touch. Skin, weapons, clothing—didn’t matter. Worse, she could dey the effect, so you wouldn’t even notice you were stuck until it was too te.

  If I let her nd a hit on me, I’d be trapped in an instant.

  Which meant I had to avoid all skin contact.

  I adjusted my gloves and settled into a boxing stance. My usual brawler-style or other sorts of martial art approach wouldn’t cut it here—I needed machinery precision. My only real advantage was that Gina didn’t know the extent of my martial ability, much less my psychic invisibility.

  Maybe I could use that to outmaneuver her.

  Merrick cpped his hands. “Alright. Begin.”

  I took a step forward—

  And Gina rushed me.

  Fast. Faster than I expected.

  I barely managed to slip to the side as her palm shot past my shoulder, fingers just grazing the edge of my sleeve. Shit. Did she activate her ability? Was I already glued to—

  No. Nothing.

  She didn’t activate it. She was baiting me.

  I exhaled, reset my stance, and threw a jab. Gina twisted away at the st second, bringing her forearm up to brush against my wrist.

  I yanked my hand back immediately. Nope. Not falling for that.

  She grinned. “Smart.”

  She was testing me. Trying to see how I reacted, how much I knew about her power, how careful I’d be.

  I had to change the rhythm.

  So I flickered out of sight.

  Gina’s grin froze.

  I lunged in—aiming a quick, sharp cross straight for her chin.

  She didn’t see me. Didn’t dodge. My fist connected—

  And stuck.

  Shit.

  “Gotcha.” Gina’s smirk returned as she grabbed my other arm, making sure I was completely glued to her.

  This was bad.

  I needed to break away now before the energy-like adhesive hardened.

  I twisted sharply and flickered back into view, using the sudden visual reappearance to distract her. At the same time, I lifted both knees and threw all my weight backward, dragging Gina with me—

  And smming my head straight into hers.

  The impact knocked both of us backward, but the shock was enough to break her focus.

  My fists came unstuck.

  I stumbled back, free.

  Gina, on the other hand, was still reeling. She shook her head, trying to refocus—

  I didn’t give her the chance.

  I pivoted on my heel and threw a sharp, precise right hook.

  Her head snapped to the side.

  She staggered.

  Then, slowly—fell to the ground.

  Victory.

  Merrick cpped once. “Knockout. Mark wins.”

  I exhaled, stepping back. That was way too close.

  Peter stepped forward immediately, adjusting his headband. “I’ll take her,” he said, gncing at Gina’s unconscious form.

  Merrick gave him a nod, crouched down, and pced a hand on Gina’s forehead. A faint pulse of restorative energy rippled outward—basic ESP healing of sorts. Enough to stabilize her, but nothing fancy. Merrick wasn’t a healer, but he somehow knew how to do it.

  After a moment, Gina’s breathing evened out, though she remained out cold.

  “Alright,” Merrick said, standing up. “She’ll be fine. So any volunteers to take her to the infirmary.”

  “I’ll do it, professor. We’ve decided on who would be our st fighter.” Peter bent down, carefully slinging Gina over his back in a fireman’s carry. “Light as a feather,” he muttered with a chuckle before walking off.

  I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. One win for our team. One draw.

  That meant the next fight would decide the match.

  John stepped forward. “Guess it’s me, then.”

  He adjusted his face mask, gncing at Mirai. “Shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  Mirai cracked her knuckles and stepped into the sparring zone, stretching. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

  Merrick gestured between them. “Standard rules. Five minutes or until one of you falls. Begin.”

  John was a wild card.

  His ESP, Copycat, let him replicate abilities he’d seen before. There were limits—duration, strength, how many he could hold at once—but it was absurdly versatile.

  Mirai knew that.

  Which was why she immediately attacked first.

  She lunged forward, pivoting into a spinning kick aimed straight for John’s ribs.

  But he was already moving.

  He sidestepped with perfect precision, slipping just outside her range.

  Mirai didn’t let up. She twisted mid-motion, using her momentum to throw an elbow strike.

  John ducked.

  Mirai clicked her tongue and threw a fast palm strike aimed for his chin. If she nded it, she could use her ESP — Heroine’s Heart — to disrupt his rhythm.

  But John…

  Was faster.

  The moment her fingers brushed his skin, he shifted his stance and smirked.

  “Oh,” he mused. “Interesting.”

  Then Mirai’s eyes widened as she felt it.

  The flow of her luck—her natural, absurd fortune—suddenly dulled.

  How could I see all of that? Let’s just say my perception was heightened to incredible levels. John flicked his wrist—dodging a fraction too perfectly.

  “Copycat,” Mirai muttered. “You stole my luck?”

  John shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “Not completely. Just… banced the scales.”

  He didn’t need her full power. He just needed to negate the absurd advantage her ESP gave her.

  And with that…

  John started winning.

  Mirai threw a rapid series of jabs, aiming to overwhelm him with sheer speed.

  John mirrored her movements perfectly.

  Mirai pivoted into a feint—

  John saw through it instantly.

  She tried to bait him into a counterattack—

  John didn’t fall for it.

  For the first time in a while, Mirai felt like she was fighting someone on completely equal footing. No unfair advantages. No lucky saves. Just skill vs. skill.

  And the problem?

  John was bigger. Stronger.

  He closed the distance suddenly, smming his knee into her stomach.

  Mirai choked, staggering back.

  John didn’t hesitate. He swept forward, aiming a sweeping leg kick.

  Mirai tried to dodge—

  But her movements were just slightly off.

  She stumbled—just for a second—

  And John capitalized instantly.

  He twisted, shifting his weight and smmed an open palm against her shoulder.

  Mirai’s bance failed.

  Her hand hit the ground.

  Merrick cpped his hands. “Winner—John Craig.”

  Mirai groaned, rubbing her shoulder. “Damn it.”

  John offered her a hand. “Not bad.”

  She clicked her tongue but took it, letting him pull her up.

  I sighed. That was a clean loss.

  But… the way I saw it, Mirai hadn’t just lost because of skill.

  John’s Copycat let him neutralize part of her luck. And once he did that, his physical advantages as a guy—height, reach, weight—became the deciding factor.

  Mirai could still win. Just not today.

  I walked over as she dusted herself off. “You did fine.”

  She gave me a look. “I lost.”

  I shrugged. “For now. You’ll get him next time.”

  Mirai sighed, shaking her head. But I saw it—the tiny, determined glint in her eyes.

  She wasn’t the type to stay down.