Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 71: The right time

Chapter 71: The right time

The waiting room was quiet, but the energy was anything but calm. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the massive screen, watching the tournament grounds, where competitors were showing off their Uncos—sharp, controlled, powerful.

Maverick leaned back, arms crossed, watching carefully. "These kids have everything," he muttered. "Resources, training, the best instructors. It’s easy for them."

Amari kept his eyes on the screen. "Maybe," he said, thoughtful. "But that doesn’t mean they didn’t earn it."

Maverick glanced at him, raising a brow.

Amari continued, voice steady. "I respect how they use their abilities. It’s not just about having access to the best—it’s about how they apply it. Skill isn’t handed to you." His eyes followed the competitors, watching their precision, the techniques that clearly took hours of work to master. "You can tell they put in the effort."

Shylo nodded slightly as one competitor unleashed a ridiculous display of strength. "Yeah... you can see the difference between talent and hard work."

Kenneth snorted. "Well, our effort better be enough. ’Cause we don’t have the luxury of losing."

Amari smirked. "Then we better make sure we don’t."

He glanced at his team, watching the way they shifted in their seats—some impatient, some anxious. He exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

"Look," he said, voice steady. "None of this should scare us. We need to focus on everything we’ve worked on. We trained, we fought, we earned our spot here."

He met their eyes, sincerity clear. "No matter what happens, I’m proud of you guys."

Maverick stepped forward, eyes sharp, voice colder than usual. "Proud?" He scoffed. "Amari, we don’t have the luxury of not winning."

Amari frowned slightly.

Maverick’s jaw tightened. "You don’t get it. There’s nothing for us after this. This tournament—this moment—is everything." His gaze darkened. "Everyone expects us to lose. They see our school as pathetic. If we don’t win—if we don’t prove ourselves—we have zero chance at getting into the Wachter’s Guild."

Shylo shifted slightly at the mention of the guild, his face tense.

Maverick took a step closer, voice quiet but serious. "And if we don’t get in? We don’t get another path. We’ll end up somewhere worse." His tone was sharp. "We’ll be criminals."

The weight of that word lingered.

Amari didn’t react immediately. He absorbed it, let it settle.

Then, slowly, his fingers tightened around the chains draped over his shoulder.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. Maverick’s words had hit hard, the truth sitting there, undeniable.

Then, Milo exhaled dramatically, shrugging. "Well," he said, smirking, "we could always be Algoria’s good criminals."

Amari scoffed. "There’s no such thing as good criminals."

Milo grinned. "Then we’ll be the first ones!"

Johnny, leaning against the wall, let out a laugh. "Honestly? I’d be a pretty damn good criminal."

That did it.

The tension cracked, laughter spilling through the group as the weight eased—just a little. Even Maverick, who had been so serious just seconds ago, smirked slightly, shaking his head.

For now, that was enough.

The door swung open, and a group of students walked in, chatting—until they spotted Amari’s team. Their faces shifted, confusion and irritation flickering across their expressions.

"Wrong room."

But instead of leaving, they lingered, eyes scanning the group like they were sizing them up. Someone at the back muttered under their breath, barely hiding their smirk. "Why is their school even here?"

Kenneth stiffened immediately. "What did you just say?" His voice was sharp, heated.

One of the students—clearly cocky—stepped forward with a casual shrug. "I said your team doesn’t belong in this tournament."

Another recognized Kenneth and Maverick and snorted. "Oh wow, you guys again? Here to lose another year?"

Kenneth took a step forward, ready to swing—but Maverick caught his arm before he could.

"Let it go," Maverick muttered, grip firm. He turned toward the intruders, calm, controlled. "You’re in the wrong room. Leave."

The students laughed, ignoring him. Another leaned in slightly, smirking. "You guys should’ve just let someone decent from your school take your spots."

Milo sighed, shaking his head. "Man, look at you guys—who dressed you?" He gestured vaguely at their outfits. "Seriously, get out before your fashion infects us."

A flicker of irritation crossed their faces before they finally backed off, muttering as they exited the room.

Kenneth rolled his shoulders, still pissed. "They’re lucky Maverick stopped me."

Milo chuckled. "Nah, we’re lucky. Imagine getting beaten by people dressed like that."

Even Amari cracked a grin.

Kenneth narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell would you joke about clothes right now?"

Milo shrugged. "I just wanted them to leave feeling embarrassed."

Kenneth scoffed, shaking his head before turning toward Maverick. "And you—stop telling me what to do!"

Maverick raised a brow, unfazed. "You were about to make things worse."

Kenneth stepped closer. "So what? You think you can control me now too?"

The argument escalated fast, voices overlapping. It wasn’t until Milo stepped in, holding up his hands, that things cooled slightly.

"Enough," Milo muttered. "We’ve got bigger things to deal with."

Meanwhile, Amari’s gaze drifted away from the chaos, settling on Shylo, who was still watching the tournament screen.

"You could’ve been up there," Amari said, studying him. "Why didn’t you sign up?"

Shylo barely reacted. "I didn’t want to."

Amari frowned. "You look interested."

Shylo exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m watching ’cause there’s nothing else to do." His voice was cool, distant. "I don’t wanna do anything that isn’t in my brothers’ best interest."

Amari didn’t push further. Instead, he watched the way Shylo stayed still, expression unreadable.

Then—Kenneth shoved Maverick.

Maverick stumbled slightly before straightening, eyes flashing with irritation. Milo and Johnny stepped in fast, grabbing Kenneth before things got worse.

Johnny snapped. "What the hell is your problem?"

Kenneth yanked his arm free, breath sharp, chest heaving. Without another word, he stormed out, pushing past the doors.

The room went quiet for a beat.

Amari looked back at Shylo, whose expression hadn’t changed.

"What’s best for the group," Amari said evenly, "is when everyone does what they’re best at."

Shylo remained silent.

He didn’t argue.