Chapter 13: The Stadium of Pain

  The USCT building loomed ominously as Krishna and his fellow new recruits entered the massive structure. Their first day was not one of learning or preparation, but rather of initiation. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and tension, the air buzzing with the energy of thousands of spectators already filling the 5,000-seat stadium. The screams, roars, and the sound of hurried steps echoed in the halls as heroes and students alike prepared for the brutal gladiatorial battles ahead.

  Krishna stood in the locker room with his peers, all dressed in their combat gear, hearts pounding. They had been trained for months in various skills, but nothing could have prepared them for what was about to unfold. The fight they were about to face was not simply a test of skill, but of endurance, strategy, and willpower. For most, it was a chance to prove themselves; for some, it would be the beginning of their journey in the arena. But for Krishna, it was an introduction to a world where strength meant survival, and weakness was punished.

  His eyes flickered over to his comrades: fierce warriors, some with abilities far beyond his own. His sharp mind, honed over years of observing and studying, had prepared him for this moment in some ways, but the reality of it was another beast entirely. He wasn’t a Catalyst—he didn’t possess the superhuman powers that others around him had. What he did possess, though, was intellect, strategy, and an unyielding determination to adapt and overcome.

  Suddenly, the heavy door to the locker room opened, and the sound of the crowd surged. It was their turn.

  The recruits were led out into the colossal arena, where the cheering was deafening. Above them, giant screens flashed their names, showcasing their arrival to the thousands watching both in the stadium and across the world. Krishna could hear the noise, but it felt muffled, as though his mind was shutting out the chaos. His focus was clear: he had to win. He didn’t just need to prove himself—he needed to survive.

  The battle was simple in concept, but brutal in execution. They were to face off against a mecha robot—a towering mechanical opponent designed to simulate the power of multiple heroes in one combatant. It stood on the other side of the arena, a hulking machine of metal, wires, and gears, its cold, lifeless eyes locked onto the recruits. The mecha was a deadly force, its strength and agility far beyond what any normal human could endure. Krishna’s mind raced, analyzing the robot’s structure, scanning for weaknesses. Every part of his body screamed to run, to escape, but his mind held steady, calculating.

  The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, silencing the crowd: "For the first battle of the new recruits, we have a student versus a mecha robot. Let the games begin!"

  A horn blared, and the ground beneath them trembled as the robot roared to life, its massive fists swinging toward the recruits with terrifying speed. The crowd erupted in cheers, the lights flashing as the battle began.

  Krishna didn’t hesitate. His instincts kicked in, and he darted to the left, narrowly avoiding the mecha’s first punch. The robot’s power was overwhelming, and its movements were relentless. Krishna’s heart raced as he tried to keep his distance, the ground beneath him cracking with every step the mecha took. His eyes were sharp, scanning for any hint of weakness, but the robot was built to be perfect—no obvious flaws, no soft spots.

  His first instinct was to use his environment. He sprinted toward a nearby pillar, hoping the mecha would follow him. The robot’s massive foot slammed into the ground, shaking the stadium. It was clear that brute force wasn’t going to win this fight.

  Krishna quickly realized that he needed to outsmart the machine. He had no power to match its strength, but his mind could calculate angles, anticipate its moves. He slid across the ground, dodging another crushing blow, and grabbed a discarded metal pipe. With a burst of speed, he launched himself at the mecha’s exposed side, jamming the pipe into its power core.

  The robot staggered, its systems briefly glitching. Krishna’s heart raced—he had struck! But before he could capitalize on his moment of success, the mecha’s arm swung toward him like a wrecking ball, sending him crashing into the ground. Pain shot through his body, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. His mind raced—he couldn’t let the fight end like this.

  From the stands, he could hear Dr. Vigor’s voice, calm and clinical, speaking to the arena’s medical staff, but Krishna didn’t have time to focus on that. The fight wasn’t over.

  As the battle continued, Krishna found himself pushed to his limits. Each blow from the mecha was a near-fatal strike, but Krishna’s strategy kept him alive. He used the mecha's momentum against it, baiting it into overcommitting and then finding the smallest openings. As the battle stretched on, it became clear that the only way to win would be to outlast the robot.

  The fight raged for over an hour. Krishna's muscles screamed in protest, his vision blurred, but he refused to give in. Every move was calculated—dodge, strike, evade, survive. With each passing second, he felt his body breaking down. And yet, his mind was clear, sharper than ever, and he knew that was the key to his survival.

  At last, as the mecha’s movements slowed and its power began to wane, Krishna saw his chance. He dodged one final punch and leaped onto the robot’s back. Using every ounce of strength left, he climbed up to its head, where a massive crack in the armor revealed its neural interface. He pulled out his pipe and jammed it into the crack, short-circuiting the robot’s systems and bringing it to a screeching halt.

  The mecha fell to its knees, sparks flying from its body, and then it collapsed onto the ground, motionless.

  The crowd went wild.

  Krishna stood, panting and covered in blood, his body bruised and battered, but his mind victorious. He had won. He had survived. He was ready to climb the ranks, to prove himself in this merciless world.

  In the infirmary, Dr. Vigor quickly healed him, using his advanced techniques to restore Krishna's body to full health. But as Krishna lay there, exhausted yet triumphant, he knew that the Stadium of Pain was only the beginning. The true battles had only just begun.

  Mike: The Calculated Battle

  As the blood from Krishna’s battle with the mecha robot still stained the ground, another recruit prepared for his turn in the arena. This was Mike, a classmate who had a very different approach to combat than Krishna. While Krishna relied on his sharp intellect and adaptability, Mike’s strength lay in his catalyst—Hybra-Regeneration and Poison Manipulation.

  These abilities made him a formidable force, not to be underestimated. The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the massive screens flashed his name, showing his first opponent: a training bot.

  The training bot, designed to simulate combat against heroes with various superpowers, was fast and precise in its movements. It was engineered to test combatants on their agility and speed. While Krishna had faced a mecha robot, a force of raw power, Mike’s challenge was different. The bot’s attacks were more refined, testing his tactical approach.

  Mike, however, wasn’t phased. His gaze remained steady, unfazed by the roars of the crowd or the flashing lights from the cameras. He had studied the bot’s design thoroughly, learning its attack patterns and weaknesses long before stepping into the arena. His mind was already several steps ahead, his movements calculated and deliberate.

  The horn sounded, and the battle began.

  The bot immediately went on the offensive, launching a flurry of fast jabs designed to overwhelm Mike. But Mike was ready. His movements were deliberate, each one a step in his strategy. He dodged with the precision of someone who had anticipated every move, his body fluid and controlled, like a dancer moving through the chaos of battle. The bot tried to corner him, but Mike was always one step ahead, weaving between the bot’s strikes with ease.

  The crowd watched in rapt attention, stunned by how effortlessly Mike avoided the bot’s attacks. His abilities were clearly working in tandem with his battle strategy. Hybra-Regeneration allowed him to absorb any hits, healing instantly, while Poison Manipulation gave him the power to control the battlefield without ever having to engage in direct combat.

  Then, with a calm yet confident move, Mike made his strike. The bot lunged, attempting to land a blow, but Mike sidestepped effortlessly. In that split second, he unleashed his Poison Manipulation.

  A dark mist coiled around his hands as he released a toxic cloud that enveloped the bot’s sensors. The bot’s movements slowed, its programming struggling to adapt to the poison’s effects. The toxins, while not lethal, were designed to disrupt its neural functions, causing it to misfire and lose control of its precise motions.

  The bot staggered, arms flailing in an attempt to regain control, but Mike had already prepared for this moment. His body surged with Hybra-Regeneration, healing any potential injuries. The bot’s malfunctioning movements made it an easy target. With a strategic strike, Mike hit a vulnerable joint in the bot’s leg, sending a dose of poison to corrode the internal mechanics. The bot’s knee buckled, and it collapsed to the ground, unable to continue the fight.

  But Mike wasn’t done yet. He could have ended the fight there, but his strategy was far more calculated. He wasn’t just fighting to win; he was fighting to send a message. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he manipulated the poison, targeting specific circuits within the bot’s system. His poison coursed through the bot’s wiring, disabling its remaining functions. The bot’s lights flickered once, then shut off completely, its systems fried beyond repair.

  The arena fell silent for a moment before the crowd erupted in applause. Mike stood motionless, his face unreadable. To him, this wasn’t a moment of triumph—it was just another task he had completed, another step in his journey.

  As he made his way back to the infirmary, Dr. Vigor would attend to his minor wounds, but Mike didn’t rush. He knew that, while the battle had been won, the real challenge was still to come. His Hybra-Regeneration made him nearly indestructible, and his Poison Manipulation allowed him to control the fight from the shadows. But what truly made him a dangerous opponent wasn’t just his powers—it was the strategic mind behind them.

  Dr. Vigor might heal his wounds, but Mike knew that his mind was his greatest weapon. And in this brutal arena, it was that mind that would take him farther than brute strength ever could.

  Krishna and the Catalyst-Controlled Student

  The battle had barely begun when Krishna’s attention drifted. The air was charged with the tension of the crowd, the eager buzz of anticipation from the audience, the beaming lights casting shadows across the arena. His eyes scanned the battlefield, following the movements of the latest recruit—a female student who had caught his eye, though not in the way one might expect. She had made a striking entrance, her presence unmistakable as she stepped onto the battlefield, but Krishna felt no flutter in his chest, no rush of interest that many might have experienced. He merely watched her from the sidelines with a detached curiosity.

  Unlike many of his peers, Krishna didn’t rush to label people with the same emotional filters most others used. His mind was sharp and always calculating, assessing the situation before anything else. This particular student, he quickly realized, wasn’t interested in him either—at least, not the way most might expect. Her focus was entirely on the fight at hand, her body poised for the challenge ahead. Krishna wasn’t bitter or frustrated by it. In fact, he felt a strange indifference. To him, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Women were the same as men, just as capable, just as driven, and certainly just as complex. They didn’t need his attention, and he didn’t need theirs.

  He wasn’t a misogynist, far from it. Krishna had never been the type of person to reduce someone’s value based on their gender, but his perspective had always been one of balance. He didn’t see women as someone to impress or prove his worth to. His goal was not to court or win anyone’s affection—it was to survive, to grow stronger, to adapt. He wasn’t the type of person to strive for validation that didn’t come naturally, and if a girl wasn’t interested in him, then so be it. It didn’t matter.

  The female student’s movements were fluid, her steps confident. She stood there, ready for whatever came her way. The training bot opposite her began its programmed advance, but Krishna wasn’t watching it. He was observing her, studying her every motion as she prepared herself for the fight. The bot surged forward with mechanical precision, its metal limbs moving faster than most could track. Yet she didn’t flinch. Her reaction was almost immediate—her hand reached out, her fingers curling into a fist, and in that split second, something in the air seemed to change.

  Her catalyst—control over the weight, direction, and structure of anything she touched—manifested in the most beautiful display of raw power Krishna had ever seen.

  Krishna’s eyes narrowed slightly. The air thickened as the female student’s power took shape. She didn’t need to struggle or strain. It was as though she had perfected the art of subtlety, turning the environment into her weapon with quiet ease. One swipe of her hand and the boulders lining the arena shifted. She controlled the very structure of the earth beneath her feet, bending it to her will. The bot, which had been charging toward her with programmed aggression, found itself stumbling as a giant boulder rose from the ground in front of her, blocking its path like an impenetrable wall.

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  She didn’t stop there. The boulder grew heavier, sharper. Krishna watched, his gaze unwavering as she twisted and restructured the stone. With another flick of her hand, the boulder morphed into a jagged spear, soaring through the air toward the bot. The bot recoiled, trying to adjust its trajectory, but it was too late. The spear pierced its shoulder with a resounding crash, the sound of metal meeting stone reverberating throughout the stadium.

  Krishna continued watching, but his feelings were unchanged. He wasn’t impressed—at least not in the way the crowd might have been. The audience gasped, cheering wildly at the girl’s power, her ability to manipulate matter with such elegance and precision. It was as if she had become one with the arena, reshaping it into a deadly playground. She moved like a master sculptor, each flick of her wrist molding the world to her desires.

  To Krishna, it was nothing new. She had a catalyst. She was strong. So were many others. Power, skill, it didn’t change his perception of the world. He respected her strength, but it didn’t make him want to impress her or win her favor. That wasn’t his objective here.

  The girl’s powers only seemed to grow as the fight went on. She had no need for brute force. Instead, she used her control over the weight and direction of objects to manipulate the flow of the battle. The bot, despite its formidable design, was now struggling to keep up with the sheer fluidity of her combat style. She formed walls that collapsed on the bot, meteors that fell from the sky like divine punishment. With each strike, she bent the environment around her to further weaken her opponent.

  But Krishna, standing in the sidelines, remained unmoved. The excitement of the crowd was palpable, the energy in the stadium rising with every devastating attack she unleashed. The screens above flashed her name, showing her abilities, her stunning control of her surroundings. The audience went wild with adoration, eager to witness the destruction she was causing. Yet Krishna stood still, his expression neutral. He didn’t cheer. He didn’t even react. He had seen countless battles like this before, and this one was no different. Power was power. It wasn’t about who had it, but how it was used.

  As the girl continued to devastate the training bot, Krishna’s thoughts wandered, not to the battle, but to her as a person. She was strong, there was no doubt about that. Her catalyst gave her a versatile advantage, something few others could replicate. But to Krishna, she was just like everyone else—a student trying to prove themselves. Her catalyst, her skills, her presence—it was all just another factor in the grand scheme of things. He had his own path, and it was one that didn’t require the validation of others. He was here for his own reasons, and if the girl wasn’t interested in him, there was no reason to pursue her attention.

  The battle ended with a final, devastating blow—a colossal building made of stone that she shaped with an effortless twist of her hand. The bot had no time to react before it was completely crushed, its mechanical body broken and unrecognizable beneath the weight of the collapsing structure. The crowd erupted into applause, but the girl didn’t bask in the glory. She merely stood there, breathing heavily, her face composed, as if this victory were nothing more than another step in her journey.

  Krishna remained silent. He didn’t clamor for her attention. He didn’t make any effort to acknowledge her. He simply watched as she made her way to the infirmary, where Dr. Vigor would no doubt attend to her minor injuries. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect her—he did. But Krishna didn’t play the games that others did. He didn’t try to impress people who weren’t interested in him. He didn’t need to. His focus was always on something greater than the fleeting validation of others.

  As the girl disappeared into the medical bay, Krishna’s thoughts turned inward once again. He would continue down his path, facing challenges and obstacles without relying on anyone else’s approval. He wasn’t like the others who fought for recognition. He fought because it was the only way he knew how to survive in a world that only cared about power.

  And as for her—she was strong. But so was he. They were both here for the same reason: to survive, to learn, to grow. If their paths ever crossed again, they would share that understanding. But for now, Krishna didn’t need anything more. He didn’t need to chase someone who wasn’t interested in him, and he certainly wasn’t going to change who he was for anyone.

  So he turned away, his mind already focused on the next step in his journey, indifferent to the girl and her powers, and entirely focused on his own growth.

  Remus' Moment of Laughter: A Hotdog, a Mispronunciation, and a Friendship

  The dust from the mecha battle still clung to Krishna’s clothing as he walked back to the locker room. The fight had been intense—too intense—but it was over now. He had survived. The others were just finishing their own rounds, the air still thick with the sounds of battle echoing across the stadium. Krishna had learned a lot that day, but so had his friends.

  One of those friends, Remus, stood out among them. His Chimera catalyst, the ability to tap into the power of animals, was a formidable asset in battle. But Krishna had always admired how easily Remus combined his fierce skills with his wit. They all had their quirks, but Remus was particularly sharp—both in mind and in his ability to find humor in the smallest things.

  Just like Krishna, Remus had also fought his own battle earlier. The mecha robot had been a worthy opponent, but Remus was more than capable of handling it with his agile and adaptive use of his animal abilities. As he powered through the fight, switching between the speed of a falcon and the strength of a lion, Remus made short work of the robot. Afterward, he met Krishna outside the arena, both of them looking a bit worn but satisfied. It was a camaraderie that came from shared experience—the blood, sweat, and strain of the fight now behind them.

  Later, in class, the group of friends gathered around their desks, enjoying a break before their next session. Remus sat with his feet up, casually munching on a hotdog he had snagged from the food stand. Krishna, ever the thinker, was focused on some notes, still lost in the strategy of the day’s events.

  “You know, I can’t believe you actually fought that mecha,” Remus said through a mouthful of hotdog. "It was huge. You did well, though, for someone who doesn’t have a catalyst."

  Krishna merely nodded, his thoughts still half-immersed in the fight. “It wasn’t much. Just had to stay focused on its weak spots.”

  “Right,” Remus laughed. “Just another day for you, huh?”

  The banter continued, lighthearted and easy, until Krishna suddenly turned his head toward Remus and the group, his brow furrowed as if something important had crossed his mind.

  “Hey, I was reading about this thing earlier,” Krishna said, a bit of hesitation in his tone. “It was something about... petal-phille? Or... petal-phella? I don’t know how to pronounce it.”

  The moment Krishna said the word, the table fell into stunned silence for a second, and then chaos broke out.

  Remus nearly choked on his hotdog, his eyes watering as he gasped for air. His usual calm demeanor gave way to full-on laughter, shaking his head as he tried to recover from the surprise. “Dude, what did you just say?”

  Krishna blinked, confused, as he looked between his friends. “What? It’s some kind of term I came across in the article...”

  “No, no,” Remus wheezed, laughing harder now. “You didn’t just say what I think you did. You mean... pedophile?” he asked, trying to hold back his laughter but failing miserably.

  Krishna, still confused, frowned. “Isn’t that what I said? Petal-phille...”

  Remus burst out laughing again, unable to stop himself. “Man, what do they teach you in those reading classes? Pedophile! Pedal, as in the thing on a bike! You’re like... mixing up words from different universes here!”

  At this point, the rest of Krishna’s friends joined in the laughter. Renford, with his ever-jovial personality, snorted and slapped his knee. “I swear, Krishna, only you could come up with a new word for something as messed up as that. Petal-phille? Are you for real?”

  Raiden, who was usually the more quiet one of the group, had a rare smile on his face, though his shoulders were shaking with laughter. “I can’t breathe. I didn’t think Krishna could top his last mispronunciation... but here we are.”

  Krishna, feeling a little embarrassed now but amused by their reactions, scratched his head. “Okay, okay. I get it. I can’t pronounce things right. But that’s the word! It’s not my fault if my brain connects the wrong syllables!”

  “You are a walking disaster sometimes,” Remus teased, still snickering. “You should start a new trend, man. Mispronunciations for everything. Next time you’re in a serious conversation, just throw out a random word. It’ll be your thing.”

  Krishna leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine, whatever. At least I’m not the one choking on food while laughing like a maniac.”

  This only caused Remus to laugh even harder. “Oh, you want to roast me now, huh? Alright, I see how it is. But you’re still going to pay for that ‘petal-phille’ nonsense.”

  As the laughter continued around the table, the mood lightened, and Krishna couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside. This was what friendship was all about—teasing each other, laughing at the little things, and supporting each other no matter what. Remus’ infectious laughter, Renford’s endless jokes, and Raiden’s dry humor made even the most awkward moments feel like something to treasure.

  Even though Krishna had struggled with social interactions at times, he always felt at ease with these friends. They didn’t expect him to change or be someone he wasn’t. They laughed with him, not at him, and that meant everything.

  After the laughter died down, Remus wiped a tear from his eye and gave Krishna a mock-serious look. “Alright, but seriously, next time, try not to invent words that don’t exist. I can’t deal with that kind of pressure.”

  Krishna chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll work on it. Maybe I'll just ask you to teach me how to pronounce things properly.”

  “Deal,” Remus said with a grin, offering Krishna a fist bump.

  The rest of the class went on without much more drama, but the memory of Krishna’s “petal-phille” would linger. It was one of those moments that bound them all together—the kind of inside joke that would be passed around for years to come.

  And as they left the class that day, Remus clapped Krishna on the back. “Next time, I’m bringing a dictionary. For your sake.”

  Krishna smirked, appreciating the humor, even if it came at his expense. “You do that, Remus. But I’m still pronouncing things the way I want.”

  With that, the group of friends walked off into the afternoon, their laughter ringing out as they disappeared down the hall, ready for whatever would come next in their unpredictable lives.

  Krishna's Unstoppable Mispronunciations: The Syphilis Slip-Up

  It was another day, another class, and Krishna sat at his usual spot, a quiet presence in the middle of the chaos of his friends. Remus was cracking jokes, Renford was talking about the latest mischief he’d gotten into, and Raiden... well, Raiden was mostly listening, his eyes scanning the room with his usual stoic expression.

  Krishna, still tired from the day’s intense training session and battle simulations, was trying to catch up on some readings during their break. Of course, his mind wasn’t entirely focused. His attention drifted between his textbook and the conversations happening around him.

  “So, you think this ‘new’ theory on symbiotic relationships is legit?” Remus asked, casually tossing a question Krishna's way, knowing it would be one of those discussions Krishna loved to dive into.

  Krishna rubbed his forehead, scanning the text as if the words were dancing on the page. “Yeah, I mean, it talks about how certain organisms can… like… thrive off each other’s presence, but in a way that isn’t exactly cooperative. More like, I don’t know, exploiting one another...?”

  “Exploiting? That sounds a little too dark for biology, don’t you think?” Renford chimed in with his usual teasing smile, his voice rising over the others.

  “Eh, nothing like a good exploitation in science,” Krishna replied, glancing at the group. “Anyway, what’s this about syphilis? It’s like—”

  Before he could finish, Krishna trailed off with a frown, eyes furrowing in thought.

  “So... Raiden syphilis?” Krishna said, the words tumbling out in a mixture of confusion and miscalculation.

  For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Krishna was still processing the words in his head, trying to figure out exactly what he meant to say.

  Raiden’s face immediately froze. His eyebrows shot up in shock, but instead of the expected irritation, a wave of amusement washed over him. “It’s Raiden symbiotic, Krishna! Not syphilis!” He was trying to hold back laughter, but it was quickly becoming clear that it wasn’t going to be an easy task.

  Krishna blinked, still oblivious to his mistake. “Wait, isn’t that what I said? Syphilis?”

  “No, man!” Remus couldn’t contain himself anymore, his laughter echoing throughout the room. “Syphilis? What in the world? Did you just—syphilis? Are you kidding me?” He snorted, clutching his stomach.

  Renford, who had been reading over Krishna’s shoulder, couldn’t help but laugh either. “I think we found Krishna’s new specialty: mispronouncing medical terms.” His voice was light but full of the obvious affection he had for his friend. “Next, you’ll say ‘butterfly’ when you mean ‘antibiotic.’”

  Raiden, who had been sitting still through all of this, finally gave in to the laughter. He shook his head, still chuckling, though there was a hint of confusion in his tone. “Syphilis, man? Really? You can’t be serious.”

  Krishna, still trying to figure out where the whole thing went wrong, frowned and scratched his head. “Okay, but... you know I didn’t mean that. I was trying to talk about—”

  “Symbiotic! Symbiotic!” Remus corrected him, still laughing, his voice rising in sheer disbelief. “The word is symbiotic, Krishna. You’re the only guy I know who could go from biology to... syphilis in one sentence.”

  Raiden leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and giving Krishna a mock-stern look. “You’ve got to be careful with your words, man. What if someone overheard that? You don’t want to get labeled as... whatever you just said.”

  “Hey, I can’t help it if words like that sound too similar in my head,” Krishna muttered defensively, but the sheepish grin that tugged at his lips said it all. He knew he had just walked into another one of his infamous mispronunciation traps.

  Renford, who had calmed down a little, leaned over with a mischievous grin. “If that’s how you’re gonna pronounce things, I might just start calling you ‘Professor Syphilis.’ It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  Krishna rolled his eyes, finally giving in to the humor. “Okay, okay. Symbiotic. Got it. I swear, I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

  “Not a chance,” Remus said, wiping a tear from his eye, still grinning. “You’ve earned yourself a lifetime of ‘syphilis’ jokes now. We’re never letting you forget that one.”

  The laughter continued, with Krishna playing along, even though the embarrassment lingered just under the surface. He never quite understood how he ended up in these situations—his mind would latch onto the wrong words, and before he knew it, he was the center of the joke. But that was the thing about his friends. They didn’t mock him out of malice. It was all in good fun, and deep down, Krishna didn’t mind. If anything, it made him feel more connected to them. Their teasing, their jokes—they were just another form of camaraderie. The bond between them was unshakable, and no mispronunciation, however ridiculous, could change that.

  “Alright, well,” Krishna said after a moment of pause, his voice light but firm, “I guess I’ll just stick to the basics from now on. No more medical terms for me.”

  Remus, who had finally started to calm down, leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. “Yeah, just go with ‘apple’ and ‘banana.’ We’re good with those.”

  Raiden raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Man, you’ve got some serious issues with pronunciation, Krishna. But you’re still one of the best in the room when it comes to strategy. Just maybe... leave the biology to someone else.”

  Krishna flashed a sheepish grin. “I’ll work on it. But you guys better remember—I'm still the one you go to when the battles get tough.”

  “That’s true,” Renford said with a grin. “Your mispronunciations might be legendary, but your skills in battle? That’s something else entirely.”

  Krishna nodded, his confidence returning as he adjusted in his seat. He might have been the butt of the joke for the moment, but he knew that, when it came down to it, his friends valued him for who he was—not for the occasional slip of the tongue.

  And as for the mispronunciations? Well, they would just have to become part of the legend of Krishna. “Professor Syphilis,” indeed.

  As the bell rang and class resumed, Krishna leaned back in his chair, content in the knowledge that even his most embarrassing moments were just another chapter in the ever-growing story of his friendships. The words might get jumbled, but the connections they forged? Those were stronger than any mispronunciation could ever be