A new chime echoed through the arena's underbelly.
"Next match: Kuro of the Black Crescent versus Hagan the Thunderjaw. Report to Arena Circle Five."
A soft hush fell over the room.
Kuro stood from his seat.
Unlike the others who flexed their arms or cracked their necks before a fight, he merely brushed imaginary dust from his shoulder and walked forward like he already knew the outcome. His long black coat swayed slightly as he moved, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.
I'd been in a dozen battles before. Seen countless styles. But something about Kuro… it was different.
He didn't carry weapons.
No sword, no staff, no armor.
Just his presence.
"Black Crescent," someone whispered nearby. "He's from the Crescent Order… Thought they disbanded."
"Is that really him? The Kuro?"
"If it is, then the Thunderjaw's already dead."
I followed the others to the edge of the viewing platform that looked over Arena Circle Five. The moment Kuro stepped onto the obsidian ring, the wind shifted. Literally. Runes surrounding the arena flared with an eerie violet light, responding to his mana, not the other way around.
His opponent—Hagan—was every bit the opposite.
A brute of a man with copper-toned skin, rippling muscles, and two massive war axes strapped to his back. His armor sparked with electrical energy, and blue lightning veins pulsed from his forearms to his fists.
Hagan cracked his knuckles. "You don't even have a weapon? This ain't gonna last long, string bean."
Kuro didn't reply.
He tilted his head, just slightly, his expression unreadable beneath his windswept bangs.
The announcer's voice thundered through the sky.
"Begin!"
Hagan charged forward like a lightning storm on legs, his twin axes surging with electricity. He closed the gap in less than a second.
But Kuro—
He was gone.
One blink, and he had disappeared from sight.
No teleport. No flash of light. Just... gone.
The crowd gasped as Hagan swung wildly through empty air, sparks crackling behind him. Kuro reappeared behind him—hands still in his pockets—and walked three steps forward without even glancing back.
Hagan stumbled. Blood trickled down his side.
He turned to face Kuro, rage mounting. "You think you're fast?! You're just another—"
Slash.
A thin, clean line of blood appeared across Hagan's cheek. Then another across his forearm.
But Kuro hadn't moved. His hands were still inside his coat.
He was cutting him without touching him.
A hush fell again.
"What… what is his magic?" someone whispered.
"He's not using magic," I murmured, eyes locked onto Kuro. "That's technique."
It wasn't brute force. It wasn't flashiness. It was something far worse—perfection.
Every motion Kuro made was minimal, clean, elegant. The way he sidestepped, the way he turned his heel before Hagan could even commit to a strike. He flowed like water, smooth and untouchable.
Hagan screamed and hurled one of his lightning axes, charging it with a powerful shockwave. "Thunderjaw Blitz!"
The axe became a blur of electricity.
It passed through Kuro.
Not around him. Not missing.
Through.
His body rippled like a reflection on water. An illusion? No… something else.
Then Kuro struck.
For the first time, he moved with intent.
His body surged forward in a sweeping arc, his coat fluttering behind him like the wings of a raven. A black trail followed in his wake, slicing through the air.
Hagan froze.
Kuro reappeared behind him, a single glowing crescent mark trailing across the floor of the arena.
Then…
Boom.
Hagan fell to his knees.
A delayed wave of force exploded from the mark on the ground, splitting the obsidian clean in half beneath the fallen warrior.
Kuro exhaled once.
The announcer's voice cracked slightly before regaining composure.
"Victory: Kuro of the Black Crescent."
The energy shield around the arena dropped. Healers rushed to tend to Hagan, who was unconscious but breathing.
Kuro walked off the field slowly, eyes forward, unmoved by the cheers or the stunned silence.
I kept staring.
I'd seen strong fighters before. Tactical geniuses. Brutal warriors. But this—this was something more. Something graceful and terrifying at once.
I didn't even realize I'd been holding my breath until my lungs started to burn.
As he stepped into the holding chamber, Kuro's eyes flicked toward me.
Just a moment. Barely anything.
But it was enough.
That gaze held no arrogance.
Just recognition.
Like he already knew.
One day, we'd fight.
And he was waiting for it.
I turned away, heart still racing.
The tournament was far from over. And the most dangerous battles… hadn't even begun.