All eyes rose again toward the stone tower as the director's voice boomed once more:
"The first test… will be simple. One-on-one battles. Winning is not the only goal. Losing does not mean the end. Your body may fall, but if you prove your worth… if you show us something that convinces us you deserve it… you will advance."
His words echoed slowly in their minds. Some clenched their fists tighter, testing their weight. Others wiped sweat from their brows with trembling hands they hoped no one noticed. In the back rows, Akio lifted his head, his eyes glittering. He didn't hear the whispers around him, he only saw himself standing in the arena before it even began.
On the other side, Ken sat in silence, cigarette smoke curling slowly before his eyes. Mabushi rested an arm on his knee, chuckling faintly as his thumb traced the chain attached to his sword. He didn't mind the stares glued to him—he enjoyed them.
Anne placed her hands on her waist, her gaze darting quickly across the crowd, as if she was testing all of them at once.
Between them all, only the director's final words lingered in the air:
"On the other hand… there are no rules about safety. You may kill or cripple your opponents. There are no limits to what you can do."
The square fell silent. The smiles born from his first statement vanished. Even the wind between the alleys seemed to stop. Faces paled, throats stalled mid-swallow. A few mutters rose from the crowd:
"K… kill?! Was that part of this?"
"No way… are they really serious?!"
Some trembled, eyes darting between the statues and the tower as if searching for an escape. Akio's eyes widened, a spark shining inside them. Ken, however, remained unmoved, as if the words added nothing to what he already knew.
Amid the silence thick with fear, the president continued:
"Now… we will begin drawing names."
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Feet shuffled unconsciously, as though everyone finally understood the moment they had been waiting for had truly begun.
After the names were written, the wooden box was filled with hundreds of folded slips. The president stood before it, steady, then slowly reached inside. The crowd hushed completely. His fingers slid between the papers until they gripped two. He pulled them out, opened the first, and read:
"Rika Osan."
A soft murmur rose among the rows. Several eyes turned toward a slender girl with her black hair tied back. Her hand gripped her sword's hilt, but her trembling body betrayed how unprepared she was to be called first.
The president opened the second paper and announced firmly:
"Hanzo Karima."
A massive young man moved forward, his head shaved, an old scar across his forehead. His heavy steps shook the ground as his narrow eyes locked on the girl who would face him.
The president extended his arm toward the stone arena in the center.
"To the ring. Show us what you have."
Rika stepped forward slowly, hand tight on her sword's hilt, sweat already beading on her forehead before the fight began. Hanzo walked with steady, crushing steps, as if preparing to squash an insect.
At the president's signal, Rika lunged first, her light sword flashing in a straight line toward his chest. Hanzo didn't retreat. His broad frame tilted aside, and his heavy arm rose to block. Her sword struck his forearm as though it had hit a wall.
Her fingers shook from the impact, but she quickly slid sideways and slashed toward his leg. Hanzo stamped forward, gravel scattering, forcing her off balance for a heartbeat.
In that opening, his arm dropped like a hammer onto her shoulder. Her body crashed to the ground, her sword slipping from her hand against the stone.
A brief silence. Then the president declared:
"Victory goes to Hanzo Karima."
Rika lay gasping on the ground. Hanzo stood over her, his gaze cold, before turning and walking away without a word.
The president's hand slid into the box again. He pulled another paper and read aloud:
"Yukaji Ken."
The arena roared with whispers. Some lit up with excitement, others sneered, while many exchanged uneasy glances. This was not just a name. It was heavy enough to make even the proudest swallow hard.
"The Yukaji… he's here?"
"I heard he's killed men before… is that true?"
"I'd never want to face him…"
Ken remained seated, cigarette still between his fingers. All those stares meant nothing more than dust in the air. He raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply, exhaled, and finally stood. His heavy, calm steps echoed as if the earth itself was listening.
The president opened the second paper:
"Zerof… from Eastern Valinor."
Eyes shifted across the arena. From the far side, a hulking man stepped forward. His skin was dark, his body forged like moving steel, every muscle carved like stone. His eyes glinted with cold caution, and over his shoulders draped a metal chain anchoring a venomous black snake.
Eyes shifted to the other side of the arena. A huge man stepped forward. His skin was dark. His body looked like moving iron. Every muscle stood out as if carved from stone. His eyes shone with cold caution. A metal chain hung over his shoulder, holding a venomous black snake.
Some people backed away when he appeared. One muttered quietly,
"He's from Eastern Valinor… I heard they obsess over raising snakes."
On the other side, Ken dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his boot. The president then signaled,
"To the ring!"
Zerof growled in his rough voice as he took a step forward,
"You're Yukaji Ken, right? I heard you killed five hundred of Cirrus's soldiers. Ha… that doesn't matter. I'll kill you now, murderer!"
Akio's eyes widened at the news. He whispered to himself, stammering,
"What?! That boy is barely sixteen and he killed five hundred people?!"