Callum took a steadying breath as he stood just outside the doors to the fighters' waiting room. His fingers flexed at his sides, nerves still tingling from what he'd just endured. "Alright… let's get this over with," he muttered, bracing himself.
He opened the door.
Instantly, the room erupted.
"You're a werewolf!?" Ulrich shouted, eyes wide with a childlike mix of awe and excitement.
"Why the hell would you keep that hidden!?" Gurion asked, his disbelief written all over his face.
"Does shifting hurt?" Xain asked with a shudder, hands twitching as he clearly recalled the snapping and tearing sounds from earlier.
"How fast can you heal?" Zeva asked, her gaze sharp and speculative—like she was already running experiments in her mind.
"You're the kind that stays in control, right?" Amos chimed in, sounding like he'd already catalogued multiple werewolf types.
"Can you shift into other forms?" Bryanard added, arms crossed, his tone calm but his eyes fixed and curious.
"I wonder how good I'd be at shapeshifting into you," Lexy mused, grinning as her eyes scanned him like a tailor eyeing up fabric.
"How high's your pain tolerance? Could you be beat into submission instead of knocked out?" Mae asked casually, as if she was taking inventory—her gaze analyzing his frame like he was a training dummy.
"How bad is silver for you?" Edluar asked, his glance flicking to his twin swords with mild concern.
"That was an impressive match you and Vilak put on," Hittag said with a nod, his voice steady and thoughtful.
And then Calvinel gave him a firm clap on the back. "Don't just stand there, man! Come on—answer our questions!"
Callum held up both hands, eyes wide. "Calm down! One at a time, please—you're all really overwhelming me right now!"
There was a collective pause. Some fighters stepped back instantly, others more reluctantly, but eventually the crowd gave him enough space to breathe. He exhaled deeply, running a hand down his face before he started addressing them in order.
"Yes, I'm a werewolf. Thanks for noticing," he told Ulrich dryly.
To Gurion, he shrugged. "I don't know—I just figured it was better to keep it to myself. If people knew, they might actually prepare for it. I kinda rely on being underestimated."
Xain earned a small laugh. "Despite how it sounds, it doesn't really hurt that much. Looks worse than it feels, I promise."
Zeva got a wary glance. "I can heal a lot... but I really don't want to find out where the limit is. Especially not with you testing it."
He laughed nervously and shifted to Amos. "Yeah, I stay in control. As long as I don't get too filled with rage or lose my cool, I'm fine. And I'm a pretty calm guy, so we should be good."
Bryanard got a shake of the head. "Yeah, I can shift into a few other forms, but honestly? Against Vilak? Wouldn't have helped much."
Lexy earned a very uneasy glance. "Probably good? I mean, I hope good? But, uh, please don't steal my face."
Mae earned a nervous smile. "Pain tolerance is pretty high, yeah. And yeah, I could be beaten into submission… but please don't try to test that either."
He turned wide eyes to Edluar. "Silver is bad, really bad. Like, 'I will burn if it touches me while I'm shifted' bad. So please—keep it away from me."
Finally, he turned to Hittag, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks… I just wish Vilak was awake to hear that. He's probably still out cold with the medics. Same with Even and Annabel."
He let out another breath, shoulders finally dropping a little.
"Now can I sit down before one of you tries to poke me with something sharp?"
Back in the arena, Drift stared in stunned disbelief, still processing what he'd just witnessed. "No… no, there's no way. No," he muttered, shaking his head slowly.
Beside him, Jefferey stood with his hand already outstretched, looking entirely too smug for Drift's liking.
"You know the rules," Jefferey said, his voice practically dripping with glee. "And so do I. So say goodbye to the coins that are now mine."
Drift let out a long groan and slapped a handful of coins into Jefferey's open palm. "This isn't gonna start a streak, by the way. This is the one and only time you're winning a bet against me."
Jefferey simply pocketed the coins with a grin that threatened to split his face. "Would you like to bet on that?"
Elsewhere in the stands, Amara sat with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, brows drawn low. "That necromancer…" she muttered under her breath. "That thing he did at the end… Why does it remind me of that bastard?" Her voice turned colder. "Just what is that type of magic…?"
Elsewhere in the stands, Nori tilted his head and scribbled something quickly in his notebook before holding it up for Zee and Larkin to read: "Why are the two of you so stiff?"
Zee didn't look away from the arena, but her voice was low. "It's just… that magic Vilak used—it felt familiar. Like something we've felt before."
Larkin nodded along. "Yeah, what Zee said. It's somethin' we've seen a few times now. Been on our side each time, thank the goddess—but damn if it ain't still scary."
Elsewhere in the stands, Wolf sat completely still, eyes locked on the place where the dark fist had appeared. His wolf mask made it hard to read his expression. Still, his posture gave him away. He was thinking.
"…That felt like his," he mumbled under his breath. "But I guess the necromancer's just lucky enough to be born with more than most people?"
Elsewhere in the stands, X let out a distorted, grating noise as he cleared his throat—the sound made nearby spectators flinch. "If I'm not mistaken, which I highly doubt," he began, voice warping slightly through the filter of his mask, "that was astral magic. That random necromancer actually used astral magic?"
The goddess seated beside him gave a simple nod.
"He did," Sarandel confirmed, eyes lingering on the field. "And more than that—he summoned a portion of the Dark Lord. That necromancer… he's gifted. In more ways than one."
In a VIP stand, Tianteng sat perfectly composed, but her eyes were distant—focused inward.
"What is it?" the Emperor of Aeruna asked, watching her closely. "You usually make a comment after the match is over."
Her gaze slid toward him slowly, her thin-lipped smile returning like a mask being lowered back into place. "Forgive me, my Emperor," she said calmly. "I was simply… taken aback by what occurred at the end. It was so unexpected that, for a moment, I found myself… stunned."
The Emperor gave a slow nod, accepting the answer before returning his attention to the arena floor.
High above, Quincy flew up, her voice echoing across the coliseum with magical projection.
"I hope you all enjoyed today's battles!" she announced with a broad sweep of her arm. "Thank you for attending the fourth day of the Tournament of Greatness! Be sure to come back tomorrow for not one, not two, but four matches! Until then—take care and travel safe!"