The way she said "reasonable" made it sound like an insult.

I pulled up my status screen, checking my Schema Point total. The number sat at 3,015, untouched since I’d blown a thousand points on Apollo’s tournament banner. The new abilities hummed beneath my skin. Lightning Rod, Kinetic Absorption, Steel Body. Sovereign’s Mandate, turning my bonds into tactical advantages.

I had the tools.

The question was whether I had the balls to use them.

"What’s the time limit on accepting?" I asked.

"Sunrise." Nike gestured at the window, where the first hints of dawn were just starting to stain the horizon. "In approximately four hours, the sun rises, the tournament begins, and this offer expires. You either commit now, or you never get the chance again."

"Why me?" The question came out rougher than I intended. "Seriously. There are prodigies in this academy with decades of training. S-Rank potentials from families that have been producing champions for generations. Why invest in some street rat with a fake Aspect and a complicated past?"

Nike moved closer, and her presence filled my vision entirely. She smelled like ozone and victory and something metallic that reminded me of blood.

"Because prodigies are boring," she said simply. "They win because they’re supposed to. Because everything in their lives has been engineered for success since birth. Their victories are predictable. Expected. Hollow."

She tapped my chest, right over the regenerator brace.

"But you? You’re interesting. You’re the underdog. The reject. The Zero who shouldn’t exist. Every time you win, it’s a middle finger to the natural order. Every time you survive something that should kill you, it proves that merit matters more than bloodlines." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And when you finally take the crown, when you stand at the top and prove that a stray dog from Graystone Park is worth more than all their precious legacies combined? That’s when it matters. That’s when victory means something."

I looked into those molten gold eyes and saw my own reflection. Battered. Exhausted. Marked with hickeys and scratches and the evidence of too many fights in too short a time.

But still standing.

Still swinging.

Still too stupid or too stubborn to quit.

"Nel," I said, not looking away from Nike’s gaze. "What are the odds?"

Nel’s voice came through soft, almost gentle. "Statistically? If you fight clean and fair? Thirty-seven percent chance of victory, assuming optimal performance from everyone on your team and catastrophic mistakes from your opponents."

"And if I don’t fight clean?"

"Then the odds become whatever you make them." Nel paused. "But you know that already. You’re asking me to talk you out of this."

"Are you?"

"No. Because we both know you’re going to say yes. You’re too much like him to do anything else."

She meant Kaelen.

The old me. The one who’d walked into yakuza headquarters armed with nothing but a knife and audacity, who’d bet his life on a World-Ranked Hunter not killing him, who’d survived by committing completely when everyone else hesitated.

I exhaled, long and slow, letting the last of my reasonable objections bleed away.

"Alright," I said to Nike. "I’m in. I’ll win your tournament. I’ll dominate it so thoroughly that people forget the Sentinels ever owned this place. And when I beat Julian in the finals, I’ll make sure everyone understands that pedigree means dick when you’re flat on your back staring at the sky."

Nike’s smile turned radiant. Victorious.

"Good." She extended her hand, and when I grasped it, power surged through our connection. The quest locked into place with a weight that settled into my bones, heavier than any title or ability. "Then let’s make you a champion."

The bronze and gold notification expanded, filling my vision completely.

[Nike’s Challenge: Accepted]

[Objective: Win the Inter-Guild Tournament]

[Sub-Objectives:]

Remain undefeated throughout all preliminary matches

Secure victory in at least 80% of individual challenges

Ensure Onyx Hounds maintain first-place ranking throughout tournament

Personally defeat Julian Valerius in single combat during finals

[Additional Condition: The Watcher’s Eye]

[Nike will observe your performance directly. Cowardice, surrender, or failure to commit fully will result in immediate quest failure and penalty application.]

I felt her presence settle over me like armor. Not controlling. Not restricting. Just there. Watching. Waiting to see if I’d live up to the faith she’d placed in me.

"One more thing," Nike said, her voice cutting through the power surge. "Your women. The five souls bound to yours. They’ll be fighting tomorrow too. Some of them on your team. Some of them separated by the bracket structure. You need to understand something."

She moved close enough that I could see the flecks of bronze in her golden irises.

"Victory demands sacrifice. Sometimes you win by letting someone else take the hit. Sometimes you win by watching people you care about bleed. If you try to protect all of them equally, you’ll fail. If you try to keep them safe instead of letting them fight, you’ll fail. You need to trust that they’re strong enough to survive without you holding their hands."

I thought about Natalia, taking a death beam meant for me. About Cel, facing down the Arborist while I’d been busy burning. About Skylar, Emi, and Akari, all of them choosing to stay despite knowing what I was.

"They’re not fragile," I said. "They’re killers. Every single one of them."

"Good." Nike stepped back, her form beginning to fade. "Then prove it tomorrow. Show the world what your pack can do when you let them off their leashes."

She was almost gone, just a shimmer of bronze and gold in the air, when I called out.

"Hey. Nike."

The shimmer solidified slightly.

"Why do you care? Really. You’re Victory itself. You’ve seen countless champions rise and fall. What makes me different?"

Her voice came from everywhere and nowhere.

"Because you remind me of someone. Someone who also rose from nothing, who also collected the broken and forgotten, who also burned so bright that the gods themselves had to take notice."

Then she was gone completely, leaving only the scent of ozone and the weight of impossible expectations.