025 Saturday with Merrick - Part 2 - Mark’s POV

025 Saturday with Merrick - Part 2 - Mark’s POV

The first match was—surprisingly—me against Ron.

I had barely processed the announcement when Professor Merrick clapped his hands, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Alright, the rest of you, to the sidelines," he said, already herding the others away like a well-practiced shepherd. "Fighters, get on the stage."

Ron and I exchanged a glance before stepping onto the elevated platform. The combat stage was made of reinforced material, its surface polished yet marked with faint scratches—evidence of countless battles fought before us.

I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders. Fighting Ron wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for today, but I’d take it. He was ranked first in the class, after all. If I beat him, maybe that would give me a ton of points.

"Alright, gentlemen," Professor Merrick called out. "Get ready."

I adjusted my stance, shifting into something balanced but non-committal. I wanted to see what Ron would do first. But before the fight could start, I asked, "What’s your problem, man?"

Ron blinked, then tilted his head slightly, as if he had no idea what I was talking about. Then, just as nonchalantly, he said, "Stay your hand out of her."

I narrowed my eyes. "Who?"

Ron’s face was unreadable—stern, unwavering. And then, just as quickly as he had said something concerning, he smiled.

Like he hadn’t just dropped an ominous line right before we were about to fight.

My mind raced. Her? Did he mean Elena? Mirai? Someone else?

Ron was a friendly guy, always a bit goofy, but something about this moment made me uneasy. He was giving me mixed signals—acting all buddy-buddy one second, then turning aggressive the next.

I exhaled sharply. Not my lucky day.

Professor Merrick stepped between Ron and me, raising his hands to get our attention. "Alright, listen up," he said, voice carrying easily over the murmurs of the class. "Victory conditions are simple: knock your opponent out, land a decisive fatal blow—"

Anna let out a small gasp.

Merrick ignored her. "—or force them out of bounds. Surrender is always an option, though I doubt any of you are going to take it. Any questions?"

Anna hesitantly raised her hand. "...Is there a guarantee we won’t, you know, get hurt?"

Her voice was uncharacteristically meek. This wasn’t the usual sharp-tongued, no-nonsense Anna I knew.

Merrick, on the other hand, looked completely unimpressed. "If you’re expecting me to coddle you like Reina, then you’re in for a rude awakening," he said. "Your Master handed you next-level, confidential storage rings and probably forced you all to wear her magical bracelets that prevented injuries."

Okay. I take it back. All my complaints about Master Reina? Retracted.

Professor Merrick? New Worst.

He raised one hand. "Get ready."

Ron clenched his fists, taking a low stance.

I exhaled. My ESP was already active, wrapping me in an aura of forgettability. But against someone like Ron—who was fast, strong, and could nullify ESP—it wouldn’t be enough.

Merrick swung his arm down.

"Fight!"

Ron had an ESP nullification ability, which meant this fight would be a contest of pure skill. That was a problem for me—I thrived in misdirection, deception, and making people forget I existed. A full-on brawl? Not happening.

Worse, Ron was good at hiding his real trump card: short-burst precognition.

He liked to pretend it was uncontrollable, that he couldn’t use it in a real fight. But I knew better. The truth? He could see three to four seconds into the future clearly. That was more than enough to be broken in single combat.

So, I needed to counter that.

I raised both hands, palms open, assuming a stance most would mistake for a surrender. But this was far from that.

Wing Chun.

Mom told me once that it was a martial art from another world, designed for quick, efficient counterattacks—suited for women, she claimed. That didn’t mean I couldn’t use it. I might not be on Mom’s level, but I knew enough.

Ron, on the other hand, had a textbook-perfect stance of the Imperial Military Arts—the academy’s combat foundation. His posture was solid, his fist angled at a precise ninety degrees.

A perfect stance. But perfection had its weaknesses.

We locked eyes.

I stayed still.

Calm as a cucumber, my focus honed to the max.

Ron was sweating a little.

Good. That meant he hadn’t had a breakthrough in his ESP yet, still simulating how to beat me. If he did, I’d be screwed. His precognition would break me down until I’m toast.

I took a deep breath, my muscles loose.

Patience.

I wasn’t going to be the first to attack.

Ron’s serious expression sharpened, his muscles coiling like a spring. He was studying me, waiting, anticipating my first move.

I gave him nothing.

For a long, stretched-out second, it was a battle of patience. Then, finally—he relented.

And attacked.

Ron launched forward with perfect footwork. His right fist shot toward my ribs, a textbook feint to bait a reaction. I didn't take the bait. Instead, I pivoted, letting the attack graze past as I twisted to his left.

He followed up instantly. A short left hook—fast, compact. I barely had time to lean back before his knee came up, aiming for my gut.

I intercepted. My palm caught his knee just in time, redirecting the force away from my body. But Ron adapted—he used the push to pivot into a spinning elbow strike.

I ducked.

His elbow whizzed past my head. I used the opening to slip inside his guard, aiming a quick palm strike at his sternum.

Blocked.

Ron slammed my arm away and countered with a jab. I tilted my head to the side just in time, but the attack clipped my cheek.

My skin stung.

I had no time to recover. Ron pressed forward, his strikes coming faster now. A straight punch. A low kick. A backhand strike.

I blocked the punch. Sidestepped the kick. Parried the backhand.

He was fast. Precise. Almost unreadable.

But not quite.

His precognition was undoubtedly working. I could see it in how he adjusted—how his body reacted just a little too fast to my movements. If I kept going like this, I’d eventually lose. I needed a breakthrough.

Think.

Ron’s nullification ability made ESP powers useless in direct combat. But what if I used my ESP on itself? ESP directed against my ESP?

If Ron couldn't perceive my ESP for even a microsecond… that would be my opening.

I felt my ESP click—the sensation of shifting between existence and obscurity.

I vanished.

Not literally. Not like teleportation. But for Ron, for the way his ESP interacted with me—just for a moment, I ceased to exist in his senses.

And then I reappeared at his flank.

Ron’s body stiffened, but he was a fraction of a second too late.

I struck.

A solid hit to his throat—enough to disrupt his breathing.

A follow-up strike to his jaw—rattling his focus.

And then, with one final push, I sent him flying off the stage.

He landed with a heavy thud.

Professor Merrick raised his hand.

“Victory: Mark Valentine.”

I exhaled, my body slick with sweat. My pulse pounded in my ears.

That… had been close.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders as I stepped back. My body still buzzed with the aftershocks of the fight, but my mind was already analyzing it.

When it came to ESP mastery, I had the edge. But I had no delusions that Ron wouldn’t catch up to me soon. He wasn’t the type to accept defeat easily. Give him time, and he’d figure out a counter for what I did today.

Admittedly, Wing Chun hadn’t been my best card—just the most fitting one for this clash. If I had gone all out with mixed martial arts, the fight could have gone a completely different way. But against someone like Ron, who had both experience and a strategic mind, a direct approach was too risky. I had to outmaneuver him instead of overpowering him.

Still, I had the feeling this wouldn’t be our last match.

Professor Merrick stepped between us, separating me from Ron before I could see his expression. With a casual wave of his hand, he turned toward the rest of the class.

"Next fighters, step forward."

I took that as my cue to walk away.

Ron stayed kneeling on the ground for a few seconds before picking himself up. He wasn’t looking at me—he was just staring at the spot where I had hit him last.

Yeah… He’s definitely going to have a counter next time.

I exhaled and turned my focus elsewhere.

Mirai was already stepping up to the stage.

Her opponent? Anna.

Amd then…

Mirai’s fight ended before it even began.

Anna barely had time to react before Mirai closed the gap and clocked her. Two, maybe three moves, and it was over.

Damn.

If I hadn’t known how her ESP worked, I would’ve chalked it up to sheer speed and precision. But this was just how Mirai fought. Her luck guided her, her instincts sharpened by an unseen force, making her movements feel inevitable. Even with all the training I had, even with everything I had studied, I wouldn’t want to fight her seriously unless I had a plan.

Anna lay sprawled on the stage, dazed. Professor Merrick sighed, shaking his head. "Winner, Mirai."

Mirai grinned, offering Anna a hand. Anna took it, still looking a little disoriented, and dusted herself off. The crowd barely reacted—most had expected it.

The next matches, though? They had more fanfare.

Karl Brandt fought against Hannah Maine, a geokinetic.

On paper, this should’ve been an absolute disaster for Karl. Fire versus earth? Bad matchup. But somehow, he still pulled a win. He fought like a brawler, staying aggressive and keeping Hannah from using her terrain advantage effectively. In the end, he barely edged out a victory, but a win was a win.

Then there was John Craig versus Tom Wick.

I had no notes on John Craig. None. Zero. Nada. A complete blank in my journal. That was rare.

Who the hell even was this guy?

Tom Wick was an aerokinetic, which gave him an insane mobility advantage. Theoretically, he should’ve been untouchable. And yet, John won. John’s ESP, Copycat was rather powerful and with a tactical mind, he had proven himself more than powerful enough.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, watching as more matches played out. Alright, fine. Maybe I should stop thinking of them as side characters like Mom had advertised.

Mom’s notes had been useful, sure, but they weren’t gospel. She had referred to them as background characters in Mirai’s story, people barely worth mentioning. But right now, standing here, watching them fight—I knew better.

This wasn’t just Mirai’s story.

I took a deep breath and started memorizing. The more data, the better.

There were eighteen of us, which meant nine matches in total.

After Mirai's quick win and the surprising victories from Karl and John, I expected the rest of the fights to go about as predicted. But then Matt stepped up against Peter Mosley, the cryokinetic, and lost.

I hadn’t expected that.

Matt was competent—tough, experienced, and smart. Moreover, to borrow Mom’s words, Matt was a ‘named’ character. Still, Peter was pretty strong. Peter’s ice wasn’t just ice. His ESP had an almost liquid adaptability to it, flowing from defensive barriers to offensive spikes in an instant. Matt never got a proper opening, and by the time he tried to brute-force his way through, Peter had already frozen the arena beneath his feet. One misstep, and it was over.

Matt hit the ground hard, skidding on a layer of frost. Professor Merrick sighed, raising a hand. "Winner: Peter Mosley."

Matt groaned, sitting up with a grimace. I caught his eye, and he gave a weak shrug. Yeah, yeah, you lost. It happens. But I could tell it stung.

Elena’s fight was up next.

She was up against a girl named Lola Hendricks, a partial shapeshifter. Partial meant she couldn’t go full-on animal mode, but she could morph specific body parts—claws, fangs, longer limbs. Pretty versatile, but not enough against Elena.

Elena fought like a phantom, slipping in and out of sight, her ESP blending her presence with the shadows. Lola tried to adapt, shifting her arms into elongated claws, but she never even got the chance to land a proper hit. It ended when Elena reappeared behind her and delivered a clean knockout blow.

"Winner: Elena," Merrick announced.

Lola groaned, rubbing her head, while Elena scoffed and walked off like it wasn’t even worth her time.

Greg was next.

I had barely recovered from his whole bug-catching introduction fiasco before he was already bounding onto the stage like an overexcited puppy. Yep, this guy got Ron beat in the puppy energy. His opponent was Gina Morse, whose ESP was… weird. Some kind of invisible, energy-like adhesive.

At first, Greg seemed to be winning through sheer unpredictability. He was fast, erratic, and just everywhere at once. But then he stuck.

Literally.

Gina’s ESP worked like an unseen glue. The moment Greg landed a hit, he suddenly found his arms stuck to her shoulder. And when he tried to move, he realized his legs were stuck to the ground.

“Uh.” Greg blinked. “That’s… unfortunate.”

Gina smirked. “Yeah.”

She pushed him over. He tipped, still stuck to the floor, and fell flat on his face.

"Winner: Gina Morse," Merrick declared.

Greg muffled something into the floor before Gina finally released him.

Next up: Fiona Core versus Clint Stone.

Fiona had some kind of gravity ESP that allowed her to control her weight, while Clint had reinforced durability. Heavy versus unbreakable.

At first, Clint seemed to have the upper hand. No matter how hard Fiona tried to knock him down, he just wouldn’t budge. Every strike glanced off him like it was nothing.

Then she switched tactics.

Instead of hitting him, she made herself so heavy that he couldn't counterattack properly. His punches slowed, his dodges became sluggish. And then, when he was completely off-balance—she made herself light as a feather and slipped past his guard.

One well-placed hit to the jaw, and it was over.

“Winner: Fiona Core.”

I let out a low whistle. She was smart. That was good to know.

Finally, the last match of the round: Iris Touch versus Sarah Finlay.

Iris had teleportation. Sarah had super speed.

It was an absolute blur of a match.

Sarah darted across the stage in rapid bursts, while Iris blinked from one spot to another. It was a contest of reaction time and prediction. Whoever mistimed their movement first would lose.

Sarah made the mistake.

She launched forward for a finishing blow—only for Iris to vanish at the last second and reappear right behind her.

A well-timed chop to the back of the neck. Sarah collapsed mid-sprint.

"Winner: Iris Touch."

And with that, the first round was over.

The last match had barely ended when Professor Merrick clapped his hands together. “Alright, pay attention.”

His voice cut through the murmurs of the class, bringing everyone’s focus back to the stage. He hadn’t moved from his spot, standing in the center like he owned the place. Which, in a way, he did.

“If any of you thought this was just about showing off your ESPs,” he continued, scanning the students, “then you’ve already lost the point of this exercise.”

Some of the students stiffened, and I saw a few defeated ones lower their heads. Matt, in particular, still looked frustrated over his loss, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

Merrick went on, “My subject, Tactics & Theory, is not about the raw strength of your ESP. That’s Master Reina’s field in ESP Theory & Application. She makes you stronger.” His lips curled into a smirk. “I make you smarter.”

I felt a slight chill at the way he said that.

“If Master Reina is focused on refining your abilities, then I am focused on the fight itself. Victory conditions, strategic play, deception, reading your opponents. How you win a fight is just as important—if not more—than how strong you are.” He tapped his temple. “Use your brains, not just your powers.”

I resisted the urge to scoff. As if I didn’t already know that.

“Now,” Merrick continued, glancing at the ones who had lost. “For those of you who were eliminated early—don’t think your performance today is the end of it. You will remain here and watch the rest of the matches. I expect you to take notes and analyze everything that happens from now on.”

His tone darkened. “Because I will be asking for an essay from each of you. You will break down your own fight—what you did right, what you did wrong, and what you would do differently next time.”

Some students groaned, while others tensed.

Merrick smirked at their reactions. “If you lost early, this is your chance to make up for it. A well-written, well-thought-out analysis will affect your standing in this class. Impress me, and you’ll find that a loss today doesn’t necessarily mean a loss tomorrow.”

I saw Matt’s eyes narrow, considering that. So was John. Even Anna, who had been quiet since her match against Mirai, seemed to be deep in thought.

Merrick crossed his arms. “That’s all I have to say for now. The next round will begin shortly. If you’ve won your match—be prepared. If you lost—start thinking.”

An essay, huh?

Fine. I already analyzed my own fights in my head anyway. Writing it down wouldn’t be too hard.

But more importantly—I had more matches to watch.

More data to collect.