Chapter 45: Jelo’s turn

Jelo had been sitting and witnessing all of it, his mind processing every detail, analyzing every technique, studying every movement and decision. He’d learned how combat worked in the Arena Nexus now. The physics were just like in the real world—momentum, force, impact, all of it behaved according to natural laws. But layered on top of that reality were the abilities, the special techniques, the enhanced movements that made combat so much more dynamic and dangerous.

It was fascinating. And he wanted to try it himself immediately.

Jelo stood up from his seat, energy coursing through him, that familiar hunger for action and improvement burning in his chest.

“I’ve learned enough,” he announced, his teddy bear head somehow managing to look determined despite its inherently cute features. “Now it’s my turn to fight.”

Mira walked over to him, still catching her breath slightly from the exertion of the fight—or perhaps that was just simulated breathing, Jelo wasn’t sure if virtual bodies actually needed to breathe. “You sure?” she asked. “That was just one fight. You might want to watch a few more, see different fighting styles, different abilities—”

“I’m sure,” Jelo interrupted. “I learn better by doing. Watching is helpful, but I need to experience it myself to really understand.”

Mira studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, Papabear. If you think you’re ready, let’s get you set up.”

She gestured for him to follow her toward the section of the lobby where the opponent selection interface was located. “Come on, I’ll show you how to choose an opponent.”

Jelo stood up from his seat, the virtual chair dissolving into particles of light as he moved away from it. He walked over to where Mira was standing near the opponent selection interface, his teddy bear head somehow conveying eager anticipation despite being an inanimate object attached to his avatar.

Mira gestured toward the floating holographic display that had appeared before them. “Alright, this is the matchmaking interface,” she explained, her tone taking on an instructional quality. “You’ve got a few options for how to find opponents.”

The display showed several categories:

**[Quick Match – Random Opponent]**

**[Ranked Match – Similar Skill Level]**

**[Custom Match – Browse Available Players]**

**[Friend Match – Challenge Specific Players]**

“For your first fight,” Mira continued, “I’d recommend either Quick Match or browsing through the Custom options. Quick Match will just throw you against someone at random, which could be anyone from a complete beginner to someone who’s been playing for months. Custom lets you see profiles and pick someone specific.”

Jelo studied the options for a moment. “I’ll go with Custom,” he decided. “I want to see who’s out there.”

“Fair enough,” Mira said, reaching forward to select the Custom Match option for him.

The display shifted, now showing a scrolling list of available players. Each entry included an avatar preview, a username, a win-loss record, and a brief description or tagline if the player had bothered to write one.

Jelo began scrolling through the list, his eyes scanning each entry. Some avatars were elaborate and intimidating—warriors in full armor, creatures that barely looked human, beings of pure energy or shadow. Others were simpler, more grounded in realistic human appearances.

He passed by usernames like **[IronFist_Crusher]**, **[ShadowBlade_99]**, **[ThunderPunch]**, **[VoidWalker]**—all of them sounding appropriately dramatic and combat-focused.

Then one entry caught his attention and made him pause.

The avatar was female, dressed in an elegant cream and gold gown that looked more appropriate for a formal ball than a combat arena. The fabric appeared to shimmer and flow even in the static preview image, suggesting expensive rendering and careful design. But what really drew Jelo’s eye were the pair of brown horns protruding from her head—not massive or demonic, but curved and elegant, rising from her temples and sweeping back along her scalp like a crown.

The juxtaposition was striking. Formal elegance combined with those distinctly inhuman horns. Beauty with an edge of danger.

Her username was displayed above the avatar preview: **[crimson_shower]**

The name sent a slight chill down Jelo’s virtual spine. It suggested violence, bloodshed, something dark hidden beneath that elegant exterior. Which, honestly, made him more interested rather than less.

“This one,” Jelo said, pointing to the entry.

Mira leaned over to look at his selection. “Crimson_shower?” she read aloud. “Interesting choice. Her record is… oh, twelve wins and four losses. That’s actually pretty decent for this skill bracket. Are you sure you want to fight someone with that much experience for your first match?”

“Yeah,” Jelo said with certainty. “If I’m going to learn, I might as well learn against someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Mira shrugged. “Your funeral. Well, virtual funeral. You’ll respawn, so it’s fine.”

She helped him send the challenge request. A notification appeared: **[Challenge Sent to crimson_shower]**

For a moment, nothing happened, and Jelo wondered if she would decline. But then the response came through: **[Challenge Accepted]**

**[Match Starting in 30 seconds]**

**[Arena: Abandoned Courtyard]**

Jelo’s heart rate picked up—or at least, the virtual simulation of his heart rate. He could feel adrenaline starting to flow through his system, his body preparing for combat even though he knew intellectually that none of this was real.

Mira patted him on the shoulder. “Remember what you saw in my fight. Use your abilities strategically. Don’t just spam attacks. And try not to get too frustrated if you lose—everyone loses their first few matches.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jelo said dryly.

“Just being realistic,” Mira replied with a smile. “Good luck, Papabear.”

The countdown continued ticking down: **[15 seconds]**

Jelo took a deep breath—simulated or not, it helped calm his nerves—and prepared himself.

**[10… 9… 8…]**

The lobby space around him began to shift and transform. The smooth floors and glowing walls dissolved, replaced by cracked stone and weathered architecture.

**[5… 4… 3…]**

When the countdown reached zero, Jelo found himself standing in what appeared to be an abandoned courtyard. Ancient stone walls surrounded the space, partially collapsed in places, with overgrown vegetation pushing through cracks and crevices. A dry fountain sat in the center, its basin cracked and empty. The sky above was overcast, casting everything in gray, muted light.

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