My First Battle

Witnessing the epic conclusion of the battle between Jigoro and Miguel, my mind underwent a collapse worthy of a mental blockbuster. It was as if everything I had taken for reference until then was simply erased, replaced by a new narrative that challenged even the laws of physics.

The speed of the combat was so absurd that I felt tempted to check if there was an instruction manual to follow that acrobatic performance. And the frenzy of the fight? It was as if space-time was playing hide and seek with me, and I was losing badly.

And now, in front of Jigoro, rising triumphant like a caped and sword-bearing hero from a twisted medieval tale that I invented myself, I begin to question whether I should alter the destiny I assigned to him. But then I find myself diving headfirst into the abyss of the dilemma of consequences. Would changing the course of events not result in a domino effect of chaos and misfortune?

Would I not be meddling with the gears of the universe in a way that not even the most perceptive of gods could foresee? After all, playing with Jigoro's fate would be like playing chess with Death, and we all know how that usually ends: with an epic checkmate and a sarcastic laugh echoing through eternity.

As I watched Neo beside me, clapping as if at a rock concert, and Say on the other side, also applauding with exaggerated enthusiasm, I realized we were surrounded by an ecstatic audience within the coliseum. Some screamed as if watching the Super Bowl, while others whistled and released confetti as if at a carnival parade.

In the midst of this celebratory chaos, Say's voice emerged, uttering a phrase as obvious as saying the Sun is hot: "This guy is really strong."

Neo displayed a champion's smile, as if he himself had defeated the opponent, and I, unable to resist the festive atmosphere, joined the chorus of applause. After all, being there, witnessing such an intense and unbelievable battle, was like being dragged into a bizarre episode of a cosmic reality show, hosted by a somewhat crazy intergalactic talk show presenter.

If this wasn't proof that life is a stage improvised by a director with a peculiar sense of humor, then I don't know what is.

---

The judge and the medical team rushed to Miguel to provide assistance, while Jigoro, calm and confident, walked towards the exit of the arena.

"I've defeated the top second-year," Jigoro thought to himself. "Now all that's left is to defeat the top third-year and become the king of this academy."

Meanwhile, in the audience, the camera focused on a seated woman, yawning disinterestedly. Her snow-white hair contrasted with a black blindfold covering her eyes. Her red lips and imposing posture denoted a striking presence, despite her apparent indifference to the spectacle unfolding before her.

"He's going to come after you, you know that, right?" commented the boy next to the woman, with a cold expression. His black hair was slicked back and he wore glasses. A tattoo below the eyes and piercings in the ear, nose, and eyebrow completed his distinctive look.

"Ah, I know he will come. But he won't get a duel with me unless he faces and defeats the one below me," the woman replied, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand.

"Hmm, Hitoriki is an opponent that someone like him is not prepared to deal with. Most likely, Jigoro will die in this duel, since Hitoriki is extremely lethal and merciless," the boy commented back.

"Well, if he loses, it will only show that it was a total waste of time for me," the woman commented back, revealing her defiant and self-confident attitude.

---

Meanwhile, in the bustling cafeteria of the battle academy, a space filled with tables, some of them outdoors, we—Say, Neo, and I—were enjoying our meal.

"Now that Jigoro is the top one of the second year, it's very likely that he will go after the third-year students," observed Say.

Indeed, in the battle academy, students from different years could engage in non-ranked duels to determine who was the strongest. However, these duels between different years usually involved only the strongest students of each year, adding an extra element of competition and prestige to the confrontations.

"And besides, it's very likely that he will come after you, Neo," said Say. Neo just raised an eyebrow in response but soon returned to his usual expression. "Yeah, he probably will," he agreed.

"The way you defeated Taiho, so easily and humiliatingly, ending the fight with a single kick, makes it almost certain that you will be his next target," Say finished.

Once again, she was right... Jigoro was obsessed with martial arts, and Neo, a prodigy of the modern era, certainly represented a challenge to be overcome by Jigoro.

And so, I charted the course of the story: Jigoro faces Neo and wins, not because Jigoro was stronger, but because Neo allowed his defeat. This raises Jigoro's morale, leading him to seek the top of the third year. But before that, he would have to face Hitoriki, and that's where his fate finally reaches its conclusion.

If I want to prevent Jigoro's death, I have two options before me.

The first option would be to try to convince him not to fight Hitoriki, but I know that forcing him to make a decision against his will would be an almost impossible task.

The second option would be to allow Neo to defeat Jigoro. If Jigoro were defeated, he might finally understand that the third-year students are on a much higher level, a level that even Neo has not yet reached.

Considering these options, it seems that letting Neo defeat Jigoro would be the most viable way to prevent his death in the future. Perhaps this defeat could open Jigoro's eyes to the reality of his abilities and limitations, avoiding dangerous confrontations that could lead to his downfall.

Suddenly, as I pondered the options before me, I felt a presence behind me.

Say and Neo stopped their meals and looked with displeasure at someone positioned above me. I tilted my head slightly back and was met with the silhouette of a girl with black hair and green eyes staring at me. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with a body that would surely make other girls feel embarrassed just by being beside her.

Before I could get wrapped up in her beauty, her raw and cold voice echoed: "I am Isabel Lyon, a first-year student, ranking 231." My teeth clenched slightly, and she continued: "I challenge you, the top 230, to a ranked duel."