The rise of the unorthodox

The crowd's cheers echoed long after the battle ended, a tidal wave of excitement and disbelief that left the air electric. Daniel remained kneeling at the center of the arena, his energy spent, his thoughts a whirlpool of failure and resolve. He barely registered the medics rushing toward him, their voices distant as they gently helped him to his feet.

"Are you alright?" one of them asked, concern lacing her tone.

"I'm fine," Daniel said, though his voice was little more than a rasp. His body protested every movement, but he forced himself upright. The sting of his wounds was nothing compared to the ache of defeat.

As they led him off the battlefield, his eyes lingered on Mathew's retreating form, the swirling shadows still clinging to his frame. Something wasn't right. That wasn't just Mathew back there—it was something darker, something… inhuman.

---

In the dimly lit infirmary beneath the arena, Daniel sat on the edge of a cot, staring at the floor as a medic stitched the gash above his brow. The antiseptic burned, but he barely flinched. His mind was elsewhere.

"You're lucky," the medic said, breaking the silence. "Most people wouldn't be standing after taking a hit like that."

Daniel nodded absently, his thoughts returning to Mathew. That grin, the way his movements became more erratic, more violent as the fight dragged on. He wasn't fighting to win—he was fighting to destroy.

The door to the infirmary creaked open, and a familiar voice cut through the silence. "You alright, Daniel?"

He looked up to see Sarah, one of his closest friends and a fellow competitor in the tournament. Her expression was lit with delight, though a hint of concern glimmered beneath it as she crossed the room, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Been better," Daniel admitted, managing a small smile.

Sarah pulled up a chair beside him, her sharp green eyes lighting up. "That was insane out there! You were incredible! No one expected you to last that long against Mathew."

"Not long enough."

"Don't do that," Sarah said, her tone firm despite her smile. "You went up against Mathew. He's… different now."

Daniel's gaze snapped to hers. "You noticed it too?"

"Of course I did. Everyone did. That wasn't just him out there, Daniel. It was like he wasn't in control anymore." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I've heard rumors about that spirit he's using. They say it's not just a power—it's alive. And it's dangerous."

Daniel frowned, the pieces of the puzzle starting to click together. "It's more than dangerous. It's taking over. He wasn't himself by the end of that fight."

"Do you think he knows?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know," Daniel admitted. "But if he doesn't, someone needs to tell him. And if he does…" He trailed off, the weight of the implication settling over him.

Sarah hesitated, then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, you don't have to take this all on yourself. Mathew's strong, but so are you. You're not alone in this."

Daniel glanced at her, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Sarah."

---

Elsewhere in the arena, Mathew sat alone in the shadows of a quiet corridor, his hands trembling as they gripped his knees. The cheers from the crowd had long since faded, but the noise in his head remained.

"You did well," the voice whispered, cold and smooth like oil sliding over steel.

"Shut up," Mathew hissed, his jaw clenched.

"Oh, but you enjoyed it, didn't you? The power. The chaos. The way they all feared you." The shadows around him pulsed, their tendrils curling tighter. "You don't need them, Mathew. You don't need anyone. All you need is me."

"I said shut up!" Mathew's voice echoed down the empty hallway, and for a moment, the shadows stilled. But only for a moment.

"You can't fight me," the voice purred, amusement dripping from every word. "I'm part of you now."

Mathew buried his face in his hands, his body shaking. "I didn't want this…"

"Didn't you?"

---

Back in the infirmary, Daniel sat alone after Sarah left, replaying the battle in his mind. He clenched his fists, the faint glow of his energy sparking faintly at his fingertips.

He couldn't let this go. Mathew wasn't just an opponent—he was a friend, someone Daniel had known for years. Whatever had taken hold of him, Daniel had to find a way to bring him back.

The door opened again, and this time it was Mr. Sayo, the grizzled mentor who had trained Daniel since he was a boy.

"Hell of a fight, kid," Mr. Sayo said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah," Daniel muttered.

Mr. Sayo crossed the room and sat beside him, his expression unusually serious. "That thing Mathew's using… it's not normal. It's not just some weapon or tool. It's ancient. Dangerous. I've seen it before."

Daniel's head snapped up. "You have?"

Mr. Sayo nodded. "A long time ago, before you were born. That spirit… it's a parasite. It feeds on its host, giving them power in exchange for control. The stronger it gets, the less of Mathew will be left."

Daniel's stomach twisted. "Then we need to stop it."

"It's not that simple," Mr. Sayo said, his voice heavy. "If you want to save Mathew, you'll need to be stronger than you've ever been. And you'll need to act fast."

Daniel met his gaze, determination burning in his eyes. "Then teach me. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

Mr. Sayo studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Alright, kid. Let's get to work."

As Daniel prepared to rise, the resolve in his heart solidified. He wouldn't just fight for victory. He would fight to save Mathew—and to put an end to the shadow that threatened to consume him.