Arien and Naeris kept running through the hallways, peering into every room through the small windows in the doors, searching for Kenzo.
—Naeris! This is impossible. We're never going to find him —said Arien while still running.
—Yeah… why are there so many rooms?! —He darted to another door and looked inside—. Oh! He's here!
—Huh? —Arien rushed to the same door—. It's Kenzo!
On the other side, Kenzo lay on a gurney, unconscious from the anesthesia. Four doctors stood at his side.
One doctor sighed deeply.
—There… he's out of danger now.
—Yes. Let him rest —said the lead doctor.
—Which room should we take him to?
—Room 2-B.
—NOOO! —Naeris kicked the door, flinging it open—. No!
The doctors jumped at the crash.
—What—?! Students? What are you doing here?! —demanded the lead doctor.
—That doesn't matter —said Arien—. What matters is Kenzo can't go there —he pointed at his friend.
—And why not?
—Because… —Naeris trailed off, thinking—. Arien, why? —He looked over at him.
—Uh… because… that room's occupied! —blurted Arien.
Naeris nodded wildly.
—Yeah! Exactly! It's taken!
An assistant doctor raised an eyebrow.
—Taken? I just came from there—it's empty.
—Uh… it got taken already… well, it's full now, okay?! —exclaimed Arien.
—Then which room should he go to?
—Um… put him where Rika Tsukayomi is.
The lead doctor turned to his team.
—Rika Tsukayomi? Where is she?
—Room 4-C.
Arien and Naeris's eyes lit up, grins spreading across their faces.
—Yes! That's it! There!
The lead doctor faced them again.
—And why should he go there?
—Well… —Arien nudged Naeris gently—. Your turn. I made up the last part.
Naeris ran a hand through his hair, flicking it back with a confident smirk.
—Watch and learn, Arien —he said, meeting the doctor's gaze—. Because Rika's feeling all lonely and stuff. Plus, socially speaking, it'd be good for her to have company.
Arien gave him a sideways look.
—Don't you mean psychologically?
—Mentally?
The lead doctor rolled his eyes.
—Emotionally. Fine—fine, you win —he gestured to the others—. Take him there.
—Yay! —they both cheered.
—We did it, Arien!
—We sure did, Naeris!
They hurried toward Kenzo's gurney.
—Don't worry! We'll take him! —offered Naeris.
—Absolutely not —the doctor seized them by the arms—. You two need to leave now.
—Nooo! We want to stay with Kenzo!
Naeris wriggled to get free.
—Please!
The lead doctor stepped out as the others wheeled Kenzo away, heading down the opposite hallway, ignoring them.
—Kenzooo!
Back in the arena, the fierce battle blazed ever more intensely. Zeik's second mark —Gale Mark— and Liang's final mark —Storm Mark— were both active.
Zeik's wind mark sat on his right thigh: curved, interwoven lines like swirling currents in motion.
Liang's lightning mark rested between his neck and left shoulder: jagged lines spreading outward from a center, like a miniature lightning storm.
Zeik swung a downward strike straight for Liang's mark; Liang countered with a horizontal slash aimed at Zeik's right thigh. After fighting together so long, Liang knew exactly where Zeik's marks appeared.
Both blows landed —and as quickly as they had flared, the marks faded.
Floch watched intently, analyzing every movement.
—Liang has no more marks left to activate. Zeik still has one. This looks bad for the prince.
Liang and Zeik pulled apart, breathing heavily. Fresh cuts bleeding, staining their clothes.
—I think… this has been our longest match yet —said Liang with a tired laugh.
—Yeah… but that's what makes it interesting. No one knows who'll fall first.
—Then… we keep going until one of us does —Liang stepped forward, dropping low out of Zeik's line of sight, and struck horizontally —aiming for his left side this time.
Zeik reacted just in time, instinct guiding his blade to block.
—Lightning Art: Chaotic Bolts!
The attack landed; Zeik barely deflected it.
—Lightning Art!
—Lightning Art!
—Lightning Art!
Liang unleashed a relentless barrage, all aimed at Zeik's flank. Zeik did nothing but block.
Floch narrowed his eyes, piecing it together. Seconds later…
—I see it now! Liang's targeting the spot where Zeik's last mark is —his right side.
—And Zeik's just defending —observed Termomix.
—It looks that way, but it's not. Zeik's biding his time. Waiting for Liang to overcommit and make a mistake —then he'll finish him with one decisive strike.
—Who do you think will get there first?
—No way to be certain… but I'd bet on Liang.
Liang lunged again, but left his temple wide open. Zeik saw the gap instantly. One hand swung his blade upward, slicing skin shallowly.
—Ha! Spoke too soon —muttered Floch.
Blood trickled fast down Liang's face, blurring his vision. Dizziness washed over him; the world spun. He staggered.
Zeik pulled back to a defensive stance —but Liang gritted his teeth, stamped hard, and steadied himself.
In that moment, time seemed to slow.
—Damn it… if I keep bleeding like this, they'll stop the match. Everything rides on this!
Zeik turned his head to glance back —a costly mistake. When he faced forward again, Liang was already halfway across the gap.
Zeik's eyes went wide. Liang raised his katana overhead with only his left hand and brought it crashing down —not at Zeik's side, but straight for his right shoulder.
Zeik caught the blade bare-handed, inches from his shoulder. A sharp gasp escaped as the steel bit into his palm.
His hand pressed tight against his shoulder under Liang's crushing force. Zeik fought back —swinging his own blade upward with his left hand, cutting diagonally toward Liang's right side.
Liang caught it with his right hand, twisted awkwardly. Both hands slick with blood dripping to the ground.
Everything they had left, poured into this one standoff.
—IT ALL COMES DOWN TO THIS, ZEIK! —roared Liang.
—One final test of strength. The first to falter… falls. Or yields.
—AAAAAAHHHH! —they shouted in unison.
Only one would move forward.
After several agonizing seconds, the end arrived…
—THIRD MARK: CYCLONE MARK!
Liang's jaw clenched in disbelief and despair. The crowd fell silent.
Zeik's final mark blazed on his right flank: a swirling cyclone shape, lines spiraling inward to an empty center, edges sharp as wind-carved blades.
His power surged —but his body trembled, burning itself out fast. He couldn't sustain it long.
The headmaster and teachers watched with concern, but let the fight continue; Liang showed no sign of yielding.
Then… the pain in Liang's temple, his other wounds, and the strain of his marks weakened his grip.
Just enough. Zeik pushed through, blade slicing across Liang from right to left.
Liang's eyes widened. All strength drained away. He stepped back, blood spilling from his torso.
The crowd stood frozen. Zeik gasped for breath; his right knee gave out and dropped to the floor. Head bowed, spent.
Liang stood tall, legs shaking, driving his katana into the ground to hold himself up. He would not fall —not while he could stand. His pride as a prince forbade it.
—NINTH MATCH OF THE FINAL THIRD ROUND COMPLETE! WINNER: ZEIK MORVEN.
Zeik lifted his head. With great effort, he stood and shuffled forward. He wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him up. Liang leaned into him.
—We were brilliant —whispered Liang.
Zeik nodded slowly, smiling.
—Yeah… we were.
—Congratulations.
Doors burst open. Doctors rushed in, gurneys and equipment at the ready.
ZEIK ADVANCES TO THE SEMIFINALS.