Inside the virtual world, unseen by him, a girl watched from the edge of the arena.

She stood in the observation zone that bordered the combat field, a space that allowed spectators to view matches without interfering. Her avatar was distinctive—she wore flimsy, lightweight apparel that seemed entirely impractical for combat. The outfit consisted of little more than a cropped top and shorts that left most of her skin exposed, prioritizing aesthetics over any pretense of protection. A hawk-shaped mask covered her face, the design elegant and predatory, with a sharp beak and angular features that gave her an air of mystery. Above her head, her character name hovered in glowing letters: Hawkgirl.

She had been wandering the Arena Nexus without purpose, moving between different combat zones with the aimless drift of someone who had nothing particular to do. The virtual space was vast, with multiple arenas hosting simultaneous matches, and she’d been cycling through them more out of boredom than genuine interest. When she first noticed Jelo’s opening match against StoneFist, she barely registered it. Just another fight in just another arena.

At first, she paid little attention. Her gaze passed over the combatants without real focus, and she was about to move on to the next zone. The Arena Nexus had thousands of matches happening at any given moment, and there was nothing immediately remarkable about this one.

Then the match ended almost instantly.

Hawkgirl’s hand paused mid-gesture as she’d been navigating to the next arena. She turned her attention back to the stone field, where Jelo’s opponent was dissolving into pixels. The fight had lasted mere seconds—a couple of fireballs, a quick sword strike, and it was over. That alone wasn’t necessarily unusual. Low-level matches often ended quickly when skill gaps were significant.

But something made her pause. Something about the efficiency of it, the clean execution, caught her attention.

She pulled up the defeated opponent’s data with a thought, accessing the public profile information that the Arena Nexus made available. The details materialized in her vision: StoneFist, Rank D2. Her posture stiffened slightly. D2 wasn’t high rank by any means, but it wasn’t beginner level either. D2 fighters had experience, had won their share of matches, had developed at least some basic competency.

And this one had been dismantled in seconds.

Hawkgirl sat down cross-legged on the invisible floor of the observation zone, her attention now fully focused on the arena below. The stone field reset itself, preparing for the next match. She watched as Jelo requested another fight, saw the system match him almost immediately.

Tidecaller appeared across the field, and Hawkgirl leaned forward slightly. She recognized the fighting style immediately when the woman began forming water tentacles—a popular mid-tier technique that required decent control and tactical thinking. It was effective against opponents who couldn’t manage aerial movement or rapid repositioning.

She watched the fight unfold in full this time, cataloging every movement, every decision. The way Jelo used Wingburst to evade wasn’t particularly unusual—plenty of fire users learned that technique early. But the timing was precise, and the follow-up fireball came without hesitation, launched while still in motion from the dash. The transition into close combat with the fire sword was smooth, almost casual in its execution.

When Jelo defeated the second D2 opponent with the same ruthless efficiency, Hawkgirl’s interest sharpened from casual curiosity into something more focused. She pulled up Tidecaller’s data as the avatar dissolved. Another D2. Two decisive victories against opponents who should have at least put up a decent fight.

The third match loaded. Swiftwind appeared, and Hawkgirl immediately recognized him as a step above the previous two. His rank displayed as D3—a full tier higher. D3 fighters had proven themselves capable of consistent performance, had developed refined techniques and combat awareness. They weren’t elite by any stretch, but they were competent.

She watched Swiftwind take the offensive immediately, his staff work forcing Jelo into a defensive position. For the first time in the three matches, Jelo actually had to retreat. Hawkgirl noted the double Wingburst, the creation of distance, and wondered if this would be the fight that tested him.

Then Jelo planted his feet and released the wider fireball, overwhelming Swiftwind’s defense through sheer coverage rather than precision. The finishing thrust was clean and professional. The match ended, and Swiftwind’s avatar dissolved like the others.

That finally made Hawkgirl stand.

She rose smoothly to her feet, her lightweight outfit shifting with the movement. Three matches, three different opponents, three different ranks—all defeated with the same methodical efficiency. None of the fights had lasted more than a couple of minutes. This wasn’t luck or favorable matchmaking. This was skill, and significant skill at that.

She watched the end of the match, her mind already working through the implications. Fighters with this level of ability didn’t usually appear out of nowhere in the D-rank brackets. They either climbed from the bottom ranks with records that preceded them, or they were smurfs—experienced fighters using alternate accounts. But smurfing in the Arena Nexus was difficult because the system tracked fighting patterns and adjusted matchmaking accordingly.

Her curiosity turned into focus, sharp and intent. She wondered who he was. The name displayed above his head wasn’t one she recognized, and Hawkgirl had been in the Arena Nexus long enough to know most of the notable fighters in the D and C ranks. New talent was always interesting, and talent of this level was rare.

She pulled up his public profile, but it showed minimal information. No previous match history was visible, no rank progression, no statistics beyond the most basic details. Either he was genuinely new to the Arena Nexus, or his account was heavily privacy-locked.

Hawkgirl made a decision.

She walked toward him, her boots clicking softly against the stone floor. The sound carried across the empty arena, breaking the silence that had settled after the third match ended. Her stride was confident and purposeful, closing the distance between the observation zone and where Jelo stood examining his interface.

She called out to him, her voice carrying clearly across the field.

Jelo startled and turned sharply, his interface disappearing as his attention snapped to the unexpected sound. He found himself facing Hawkgirl, and his eyes immediately took in her appearance—the hawk mask, the exposed skin, the outfit that seemed designed to draw attention rather than provide any combat utility whatsoever.

His gaze quickly looked away, focusing somewhere over her shoulder instead. Heat that had nothing to do with his fire abilities rose in his face, and he found himself wondering why anyone would choose to dress that scandalously in a combat arena. The Arena Nexus had no dress code, and players could customize their avatars however they wanted, but surely there was a middle ground between full armor and… whatever this was.

Hawkgirl stopped a few steps away from him, seemingly unbothered by his obvious discomfort. Behind her mask, her expression was unreadable, but her posture was relaxed and confident. She’d clearly chosen this appearance deliberately, and his reaction—or lack of direct eye contact—didn’t seem to concern her in the slightest.

She got straight to the point, her voice steady and challenging.

“Fight me.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep