Xavier kept his stride steady, ignoring the lingering glances around him. There was no avoiding it—word traveled fast, and Rael's decision to intervene had turned him into a curiosity. Some watched out of genuine interest, others out of quiet calculation, trying to gauge whether he was worth noticing or just another fighter who would vanish into the system.
He had no intention of vanishing.
The academy functioned like a city within itself—tight corridors connected segments, training halls lined the floors, and bureaucratic offices operated silently in the background. Fighters climbed ranks, but the administrators, clerks, and teachers ran the logistics. Somewhere above them, unseen and untouchable, sat the academy's higher officials—the ones responsible for deciding what really mattered.
If you weren't a fighter, you worked behind the scenes. And if you were in Segment 10, you barely existed at all.
Xavier had gotten used to walking these halls unnoticed. That had changed.
He reached the lower floor where Segment 10 resided—the transition was immediate. The lights overhead flickered, the air felt heavier, and there was a faint smell of sweat and metal lingering from the neglected training equipment.
It was easy to tell when someone had been stuck in Segment 10 for too long. Their movements were rigid, careful, their faces hardened—not from discipline but from survival.
Someone called his name—quietly, but enough to make him stop.
He turned.
Orin.
Rank 308. Two places beneath him. They'd fought before—Orin had won.
"Did you really go to Segment 9?" Orin asked, crossing his arms.
Xavier didn't answer immediately. He didn't like meaningless conversations.
"You heard about it," Xavier said instead.
Orin gave a slow nod. "People talk. They say Rael spoke to you."
Xavier held his gaze. "And?"
"And that means you might be moving faster than the rest of us."
The statement was neutral, but the implication wasn't. There was no real jealousy in Orin's voice—just calculated observation.
Climbing meant stepping over people. No one said it outright, but everyone knew. If Xavier rose, someone else stayed behind.
"I don't know what he wants," Xavier said honestly.
Orin studied him before exhaling slightly. "Doesn't matter. The moment you're noticed, things change."
Xavier didn't answer. He understood. Rael's attention had given him something—not an advantage, but a shift. People now expected something from him.
That was dangerous.
Orin didn't press further, simply nodding once before stepping away.
Xavier had barely continued down the corridor when the second confrontation happened.
Not Orin. Someone stronger.
Rank 285.
Tall, broad shoulders, a jagged scar over his brow. Lower than Rael but still far above Xavier.
Xavier didn't show surprise—not outwardly—but he had noticed this fighter lingering behind him earlier.
At first, he thought it was coincidence. But now, standing in Segment 10, it was clear. The guy had followed him down.
That meant something.
"You've been getting attention," the fighter said casually, like they were discussing the weather.
Xavier glanced past him. "I'm not looking for it."
"Doesn't matter." The fighter tilted his head slightly. "Rael spoke to you. That makes you interesting."
Xavier frowned slightly. "So?"
"So," the fighter said, stepping closer, "Rael doesn't talk to people without a reason. Which means I want to know what that reason is."
Xavier's jaw tightened. So this was what it meant to be noticed.
The ranking system wasn't just about fights. It was about influence. Rael speaking to him had sent ripples through Segment 9—and now the lower rankers wanted answers.
"Ask him," Xavier said simply, shifting his weight slightly—ready, but not aggressive.
The fighter chuckled, but his amusement didn't reach his eyes. "See, I could do that. But I'd rather test something first."
The shift was immediate.
The challenge.
Xavier exhaled slowly. "You followed me down here just to fight me?"
"If I win," the fighter said, rolling his shoulders, "it proves Rael wasted his time."
Xavier didn't answer immediately.
Fighting here meant nothing.
It wasn't official. The rankings wouldn't change. But that didn't stop people from pushing their weight around. Fights happened whether they counted or not.
Xavier could walk away.
Or—he could establish something.
He didn't need attention, but if he backed down now, people would assume Rael's interest in him was misplaced.
No hesitation. No backing down.
Xavier exhaled once, then moved.
He didn't wait for the fighter to attack first. He struck.
Fast. Precise.
The hit connected.
The fight wasn't ranked, but it mattered. Because here, the weight of a name was built with fists.