Back to the present.
The silence that followed Kotobe's words was heavy, charged with a palpable disbelief.
Then, slowly, painfully, Kotobe got to his knees on the arena floor. Blood flowed from his lips, his right arm hung uselessly, his broken rib gouged his side with every breath. But his eyes, that one eye more closed than the other, burned with a cold determination.
He placed his good foot under him and, with a grunt that was almost a scream, stood up.
The movement was unsteady, painful, not graceful at all. But he was standing.
And then, he struck a pose.
Arms spread, one leg slightly forward, chest puffed out despite the pain, gaze fixed straight ahead, towards Dante.
In the VIP stands, at the very top, Captain Man, the guest of honor, choked on his sip of iced tea. He leaned forward, over the railing.
"He's not going to dare…" he murmured, incredulous.
It was his pose. The iconic "Captain Man - The Heroic Fortress" pose. The one he had created twenty years ago, the one on all the posters, in all the manga, that millions of children imitated in their schoolyards.
And this adolescent with the asymmetrical face, covered in blood and dust, was reproducing it in a combat arena, facing a scion of the ancient hunter aristocracy.
The audience, first silent, erupted. This time, it wasn't mockery. It was a mix of nervous hilarity and stupefaction. "Is he serious?!" "Captain Man, look! He's imitating you!" "That's… that's sacrilege!"
In the arena, Dante swallowed, his arrogance returning for a flash. "Seriously?" he spat, holding his injured elbow. "You're going to beat me with stolen poses? You're just a copying monkey."
———
Meanwhile, in VIP Booth No. 7.
The room was a sanctuary of dark wood and aged leather. The air smelled of expensive cigars and old power. Four people sat there, watching the fight on a silent holographic screen.
There was Rat, small, nervous, hiding like the others behind his golden mask. Toro, massive and silent, arms crossed over a chest that seemed carved from granite. Fox, elegant and ironic, twirling a crystal glass between slender fingers. And Antelope, who sat there with a piercing, calm gaze, seemingly always analyzing invisible data.
They were four of the Fifteen Grand Founders. The architects of the modern hunting era. Their families had written history.
The booth door opened without a knock. A man entered, dressed in a formal black kimono embroidered with the Seijin clan symbol – a dragon entwined with a sword. Tamura Seijin, Dante's father. His face was a mask of cold dignity, but a fierce pride shone in his eyes.
"My friends," he said in a voice that carried the weight of centuries. "I see you are watching my little diversion."
Fox gave a crooked smile. "Your 'little diversion' is getting humiliated by someone who looks like he got hit by a truck, Tamura."
Tamura didn't flinch. He approached the screen.
"This boy, Kotobe, is interesting. A tenacious weed. But he is facing the inexorable." He turned to them. "Dante is not simply my son. He is one of the last true geniuses of modern hunting. He mastered the basics of Flow at age eleven. Eleven."
The word Flow made Toro nod respectfully. Rat let out a low whistle, impressed despite himself.
"The Flow," Tamura continued, like a professor. "Created by our ancestors, the Slayers of the First Era. The art of conserving Ether, concentrating it not for spectacular displays, but for pure efficiency. Strengthening muscles at the exact moment of impact. Accelerating reflexes. Making every physical movement… perfect. Economical. Dante is its living incarnation."
He pointed to the screen where Dante, despite his injured elbow, was beginning to move differently. His steps were lighter, more precise. A very subtle, almost invisible blue glow enveloped his fists and feet.
"He is the hope," Tamura concluded, his voice dropping a tone. "The hope of our clans, of the Old Era. The one who can rediscover the path to the UI Mode, lost in our lineages since the Great lethal Rain. The absolute martial perfection. The bet is safe, my friends."
A server brought betting slips. Toro, Fox, and Antelope wrote astronomical sums on Dante's name without hesitation. Confident smiles. It was easy money.
Then all eyes turned to Rat.
Rat, who hadn't taken his eyes off the screen, where Kotobe, in his ridiculous pose, was observing every micro-movement of Dante.
Rat scratched his chin, a mad smile appearing on his face.
"The UI Mode, huh? Very impressive." He took the slip. "Me, I like risk. I like it when the loser has that glint in his eyes."
And, under the horrified gaze of the others, he wrote a figure that made even Antelope blanch.
5,000,000 credits.
On Kotobe.
The silence in the booth was absolute.
"You've gone mad, Rat!" Fox hissed.
"That's money thrown away!" Toro growled.
"The boy is broken," Antelope added, pragmatic.
Rat just laughed, a dry, joyful laugh. "Mad? Maybe! But look at him! He's not afraid! He's learning!"
---
IN THE ARENA
Dante had abandoned all nonchalance. Anger, the shame of being hurt by this creature, had transformed him. His blue Ether concentrated into fine filaments along his legs.
"Flow: Third Movement!"
He disappeared and reappeared at Kotobe's side, a spinning kick whistling towards his head. The movement was of supernatural speed, stylish, fluid like a deadly dance.
Kotobe raised his good arm. BLOCK! The impact spun him around, but he stayed standing. His Captain Man pose had changed. Subtly. His center of gravity was lower. More stable.
Analysis: The Flow. Concentration of Ether in the extremities. No waste. Economy of movement. Application points: major joints. He accelerates nerve impulses.
Dante chained. "Flow: 4th Movement, Serpent Strike!" His blued fist shot out in a straight line, much faster than a normal punch.
Kotobe could only twist his torso. The fist struck his side, near the broken rib. The pain was a white explosion. He saw stars, bent double, but his feet, in their adapted position, didn't give way.
Adaptation: Distribute the force. Don't block. Guide.
When Dante struck again, Kotobe didn't block. He parried with a circular motion of his forearm, deflecting the blow, expending minimal energy.
Surprise flashed in Dante's eyes.
Kotobe was advancing. Each of Dante's attacks, each flashy and efficient Flow technique, was absorbed, studied, dissected. Kotobe was copying. Not the poses. The principles.
Dante's posture. The way he transferred his weight. The exact moment the blue Ether pulsed in his muscles.
The audience was hypnotized. The deformed monster was decoding the prodigy.
Then Dante, exasperated, prepared his finishing move. He stepped back, concentrated all his remaining blue Ether into his good foot. The air around it vibrated.
"FLOW: 8th Movement, Shadow Dance!"
It was the signature technique of the Seijin. An offensive rush from all sides. He accelerated to insane speed, moving all over the arena like a shadow.
Kotobe watched him mount. His mind, despite the pain, was working at a crazy speed.
Kotobe began to analyze the movement: "He's probably trying to destabilize me. He moves fast to sow confusion in my mind. He's probably trying to distract me to attack when I least expect it."
He didn't have the strength to jump. Not the technique to counter.
So he adapted.
Instead of retreating, he took a tiny step forward.
"He's there, I can feel it," he thought.
— I have to follow my instinct.
As Dante sprinted in a straight line for his attack...
Boom!!
Kotobe's gaze met his exactly.
Flustered, Dante stumbled, unable to slow down; the impact with Kotobe would be immediate.
At the moment of impact, Kotobe tilted his head, leaving just the top of his skull as if he intended to headbutt.
The blow hit Dante full force, injuring Kotobe's head, but sending Dante… backward.
Dante landed heavily, off-balance, his ultimate attack wasted on the floor, which he cracked. He was exposed, vulnerable for a fraction of a second.
Stupefaction paralyzed him. That was… MY technique! He understood it that easily and adapted!
"NOW!!!" Rat screamed in the booth, his voice tearing.
He didn't strike a pose. He didn't have time. He used the momentum of his own twist, the pain, the rage, Kanata's hope, and concentrated it all into his left fist.
The Ether was neither pink nor blue. It was colorless. Pure. Brutal.
"MEGAAA PUUUUNCH!!!"
The blow launched. Not a graceful uppercut. A straight discharge punch, driven by the full weight of his unsteady body.
It struck Dante squarely in the sternum.
BOOOOOOM.
A dull, deep sound, like a falling tree. Dante was literally ripped from the ground. He sailed through the air, went over the safety barrier, and crashed against the concrete wall of the Dome, five meters from the arena, before falling back in an unconscious heap.
Dead silence.
Then, in Booth No. 7, Rat jumped from his armchair.
"LET'S GOOOOOO! JACKPOT!" He began dancing a wild and ridiculous jig, pointing a finger at his petrified fellow founders. "I TOLD YOU! THE RISK! THE ADAPTATION! YOU AND YOUR DUSTY OLD TECHNIQUES!"
Tamura Seijin was white as a sheet, fists clenched, watching his son, the hope of the dynasty, defeated and hurled out of the arena by a nameless weed.
Captain Man, in the VIP stand, had stood up, mouth agape. Then, slowly, an incredulous, admiring smile stretched across his face. He copied my essence. Not my pose. My… principle of defense. And he used it to attack.
The audience no longer chanted. They screamed. A primal cry of discovery. The outsider, the ugly one, the rejected one, had just accomplished the unthinkable. He hadn't beaten Dante with more power. He had beaten him with his brain.
Kotobe stood for one more second, his fist smoking, looking at the spot where Dante had disappeared. Then his knees gave way. He collapsed, unconscious himself, but with a quiet smile on his lips.
The referee, after a long moment of hesitation, blew the whistle.
— OUT OF THE COMBAT AREA! WINNER… KOTOBE!
The announcer, Lola, seemed to have lost her voice. She finally took the microphone, trembling.
"Ladies… gentlemen… I… I don't know what to say. The fight… we'll be back tomorrow for the continuation of the duels. Stay tuned!"
A holographic advertisement immediately sprang up, illuminating the arena with bright colors:
"NANO-BANANA! The protein of the new generation of heroes! Available in all your stores! For top-tier Ether!"
The chapter was closed. But the legend of Kotobe, the Adapter, had just been born in the tumult. And somewhere, in the darkness of his unconsciousness, a boy named Kanata smiled from somewhere.