The arena buzzed as the next names rang out.
"Nairo! Kurojin! Arena now!"
The crowd leaned forward instantly.
Nairo jumped down onto the platform, eyes burning, fists clenched. His shadow twisted behind him like a living beast, matching his anger.
Across the field, Kurojin walked in lazily, cracking his neck.
A crooked grin spread across his face.
"So this is the Shadow King?" he sneered. "Looks more like a scared stray."
Nairo's veins pulsed.
"Say that again," he snapped.
Kurojin smirked wider."Try not to cry when you lose."
The bell rang.
Nairo exploded forward.
"Shadow Fang Strike!"
His shadow lunged, blade forming in its hands as it slashed toward Kurojin's neck.
The audience gasped—
—but glowing lines burst from Kurojin's feet, racing across the ground like lightning.
They wrapped around Nairo's shadow mid-attack, stopping it instantly. "What?!"
Kurojin lifted a finger lazily. "My shadows don't obey you."
The glowing lines tightened, choking the shadow's movement.
Nairo roared and charged in himself, fist glowing.
"I'll crush you myself!"
His punch connected—
barely.
Kurojin slid back a step, cheek scratched.
Silence fell.
Kurojin's eyes darkened. "You actually hit me?"
The glowing lines surged again.
They snapped around Nairo's arms, legs, and torso, lifting him slightly off the ground.
He struggled violently.
"LET GO!"
His shadow fought back, slashing wildly, forcing Kurojin to dodge.
For a moment—
it looked even.
The crowd shouted.
"NAIRO!"
"GET HIM!"
Nairo broke one arm free and slammed a punch into Kurojin's stomach, sending him sliding backward.
Hope sparked.
But Kurojin only laughed.
"You're strong," he said coldly. "Too bad you're stupid."
The glowing lines flared bright.
They wrapped around Nairo's neck and chest—not enough to harm, but enough to crush his movement.
They slammed him into the arena floor.
BOOM.
Air blasted out of his lungs.
Still—
he tried to rise.
His arms shook.
His vision blurred.
"I'm not… losing to you…!"
Kurojin walked over slowly and crouched beside him. "You already did."
Nairo forced one last punch upward—
—but his strength gave out.
His arm dropped.
The bell rang.
"Winner: Kurojin."
The arena fell quiet.
Nairo's eyes trembled with rage and humiliation.
He still wanted to fight.
Still wanted to stand.
Still wanted to wipe that smirk off Kurojin's face.
But his body refused to move.
Medics rushed in, lifting him onto a stretcher.
From the stands—
Masakiro shot up instantly.
He didn't even think.
He ran after them as they carried Nairo away.
On the platform, Kurojin turned, rolling his shoulders.
"…Shadow King, huh?"
He scoffed.
"Come back when you're strong enough to deserve the name."
And the crowd knew—
that defeat was going to burn in Nairo's chest for a long time.
The arena still buzzed from the previous matches, the echoes of clashing blades and shattered shields lingering in the air.
Then the speakers thundered again.
"Next match! Yamata Kijin — BK Class — versus Raigen — AA Class!"
The reaction was immediate.
Groans, whispers, pitying murmurs:
"BK again?"
"Raigen's going to fry him!"
"Someone get the medics ready, just in case."
Kijin rolled his shoulders lazily at the entrance tunnel, hair sliding across his eyes like molten red silk.
His sword rested across his back, as casual as carrying a bag of groceries.
"…Why do they keep sending me to die against monsters?" he muttered, voice dripping boredom.
Beside him, Tsuramo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression sharp but unreadable.
His crimson eyes flicked to Kijin once, unimpressed.
"…You think I can win?" Kijin asked, smirking.
Tsuramo didn't flinch. "Win? No."
Kijin clicked his tongue. "…Gee, thanks."
Tsuramo's tone remained calm, almost bored. "But if you fight like yesterday, you won't die."
Same advice. Same tone.
Use wind.
Use illusions.
Blind them first.
Strike where they can't see.
Kijin smirked, letting his hair whip back from his face with a faint swirl of wind. "…Good enough."
The announcer called again.
"Yamata Kijin! Enter!"
Kijin walked out, sword swinging lazily over his shoulder.
Hair flicked like fire in slow motion.
Raigen waited in the center, lightning crawling lazily across his blade. Muscles taut, energy coiling like a caged storm.
He looked Kijin over once and snorted.
"…BK Class again? Feeding me practice dummies now?"
Kijin scratched his cheek, grin wide, teeth catching the arena light. "Practice dummy? Bro, you look like someone's angry gym coach."
Raigen's eyebrow twitched.
Kijin leaned casually on his sword, flicking a strand of hair from his eyes.
"And what's with all the lightning? Compensating for slow legs?"
The crowd oohed.
Up in the stands—
Renji grabbed Hikaru by the collar. "HE'S TRYING TO DIE!"
Hikaru's feathers ruffled. "He's… insane."
Luna facepalmed. "Idiot…"
Masakiro sighed quietly.
Tsuramo, seated at the edge of the stands, simply watched, crimson eyes unreadable.
Bell Rings
Raigen vanished.
Thunder cracked like a whip.
Kijin barely twisted aside as lightning exploded where he'd been standing.
The shockwave slammed into the arena floor, sending shards of stone and dust into the air.
Raigen appeared behind him in an instant.
Sword slammed down.
Kijin blocked—but the force slammed his face into the ground. Pain bloomed, sharp and hot.
Blood trickled down his mouth.
Raigen scoffed. "You talk big for trash."
Kijin coughed, spitting blood. "…Yeah? And you swing big for someone missing every hit."
Wind stirred around him, hair whipping violently, coat tails and strands slicing through the air like blades.
Three afterimages of Kijin appeared, spinning in a deadly dance.
Raigen clicked his tongue. "Oh, illusions. Cute."
Lightning erupted, slicing apart two of them. But the real Kijin shot upward, blade flashing.
"Wind Step — Silent Slice!"
His sword grazed Raigen's shoulder.
A shallow wound—but enough to silence the smirk.
"…You little bastard."
Electricity exploded violently, blinding the area.
"You use my own opening tactic against me?" Raigen bellowed.
Kijin grinned, blood streaking his cheek, eyes sharp.
"Yeah! What are you gonna do, sue me, lightning freak? Baka!"
The air shuddered.
Wind and lightning collided with deafening crackles.
Kijin tumbled, rolled, dodged, slicing at the illusionary afterimages with one hand, hair whipping across his face, eyes fierce and unyielding.
Raigen moved too fast.
Sword smashed into Kijin's guard.
CRACK.
Arms screamed, muscles burning.
Another hit slammed Kijin into the arena wall. Dust exploded. The crowd gasped.
Renji yelped dramatically: "HE'S DEAD!"
Hikaru's wings flared. "Somebody… somebody stop him!"
Luna muttered, amused "Get up, idiot…"
Only Tsuramo remained calm, crimson eyes focused.
Raigen advanced slowly, lightning dancing over his blade.
"You lasted longer than expected. Congratulations."
Kijin forced himself upright, legs trembling, blood streaking his skin, hair whipping like a storm.
Raigen scoffed. "Still trying?"
Kijin spat blood, grinning through the pain. "…Yeah. And next time? You bastard… you use my own moves? I swear, I'm frying you next time, lightning freak!"
Wind exploded violently around him, dust and afterimages blinding the arena.
Kijin lunged. "ILLUSION WIND SLASH!"
The blade met lightning, sparks flying, wind slicing the air, and Raigen's reflexes saved him by a hair—but the crowd roared.
Electricity flared, throwing Kijin across the arena.
He skidded, body trembling.
Conscious, but barely.
Bell Rings
Winner — Raigen
Medics rushed in. Kijin coughed, hair plastered to his blood-streaked face, grin still faint.
Raigen glanced back. "…You're annoying. Train more."
Then left, lightning fading.
Up in the stands—
Renji collapsed dramatically. "HE'S ALIVE!"
Hikaru nodded frantically. "Barely…"
Masakiro finally relaxed.
Luna smirked. "Stubborn idiot…"
Tsuramo turned his gaze away. "…Knew he'd lose."
"…But he didn't run," Masakiro noted softly.
Kijin, lifted by medics, weakly raised a bloodied hand toward the stands. "…Next time… I'm frying that thunder bastard…"
And tomorrow—he'd start training again.