The stadium roared with aftershocks from Ren's unlikely survival. His lungs burned, sweat dripping into his eyes, yet the crowd's chant kept echoing—
"Messiah! Messiah!"
He staggered toward the bench, gripping his racket as if it were a lifeline. Shizuka stood nearby, arms crossed, pretending she wasn't worried. Maria leaned closer, smirking, but even she seemed shaken by the storm Ren had just endured.
Then a hush fell across the court.
Not silence—no, this was heavier. A ripple of unease swept through the spectators, like a predator had entered the arena. Heads turned, one by one, toward the VIP tribune.
There he was.
Kazama Ryuji.
World Rank #1. The undefeated Dragon of Aurelia.
He didn't wear a uniform; he didn't need to. Dressed in a sharp black coat, a single crimson line running across the sleeve like spilled blood, he leaned forward in his seat. His eyes were sharper than blades, studying Ren with the casual cruelty of a man dissecting prey.
The chant died. Journalists froze mid-sentence. Even the referees shifted uncomfortably.
Ren's knees trembled—not from exhaustion this time, but from the weight of that gaze. It wasn't admiration. It wasn't rivalry. It was dismissal.
Ryuji smirked faintly, lips curving with disdain.
"Substitutes shouldn't touch my stage."
He didn't need to raise his voice. Somehow, the words carried, cutting through the noise, reaching Ren like a personal sentence.
Shizuka's fists clenched at her sides. Maria narrowed her eyes, her usual fire dampened into cold steel.
Ren felt it deep in his chest—the line between surviving and belonging. And for the first time, he realized what it meant to stand in the same league as monsters.
His HUD flickered, trembling with static:
[Warning: Emotional Overload Detected.]
But Ren gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to stand straight. He couldn't collapse here. Not in front of him.
The crowd, sensing the shift, erupted again, louder than before—half in fear, half in defiance.
"Messiah #99!"
"Top 100! Top 100!"
Ryuji didn't move. Didn't clap. Didn't acknowledge the noise.
He simply leaned back in his seat, eyes still locked on Ren, as though branding him with an invisible scar.
And just like that, the match wasn't the story anymore.
The true stage had been set.