Akio's body lay sprawled across the ground, bleeding without mercy, every cell in him screaming in pain. His eyes were half-closed, his breath shallow, and blood dripped from his lips, filling his mouth with the metallic taste of defeat… the taste of death drawing near.
But he wasn't dead. There was a sound—echoing inside his skull, his throat, his nerves, his heart.
Not a scream. Not a whisper. Just one word, hammering inside his head again and again:
Rise…
Rise…
Rise…
Rise…
Rise, Akio… this isn't nap time…
Get up, idiot… what about your dream? What about becoming the Shogun?
Stand up, samurai. They're watching you.
Get up… don't fail yourself.
Even if there's nothing left in you, rise.
Everyone in the arena thought the match was over. The referee raised his hand slowly, ready to declare Ryusei the winner. Ken was speaking, and Ryusei replied coldly, as if Akio no longer existed.
Until something moved on the ground… the air shifted… and a faint spark crackled.
Ann gasped, her eyes widening. Ken's narrowed sharply, sensing something strange. Akio was rising—slowly, quietly, with a force that tore through every law of reason. He stood like a samurai facing the darkest hour: back straight, eyes wide open.
But something about him had changed. His usual childish face was gone—replaced by anger.
Real anger.
The kind born from injustice, from pain, from fighting for a dream rather than victory.
His golden eyes burned with lightning. His hands trembled for a moment, then steadied. A bright yellow aura formed around him, where bolts of lightning danced wildly. Each step he took echoed across the floor—not like normal footsteps, but like ripples from the future, as if every step declared:
"I'm not done yet."
The spectators exchanged looks.
Someone muttered, "What's happening to that boy?"
Another whispered, "He… came back?"
Ryusei stopped talking. Slowly, he turned. Akio kept walking forward, still bleeding, as if pain had become part of his breathing—not hindering him, but driving him.
One… two… breathe.
A step… a heartbeat… a flash of lightning.
He was watching himself from the inside, as if his spirit were repairing his broken body.
Balance.
Everything I've learned… everything I've trained for… now's the time.
I don't need speed. I need clarity.
He synced each step with the surge of Vakin energy inside him. Across the arena, Ryusei's eyes widened, his body stiffened—what he saw made no sense.
"Impossible…"
The word rang in his mind as he stared at Akio… and the wounds on his body.
Then it hit him. That blow Akio had taken earlier—it hadn't been meaningless. He had planted something within it… a trap? A rhythm? No—what shook Ryusei most was the look in Akio's eyes.
Ann thought to herself, watching sparks whirl around Akio's frame,
He's… completely changed.
Everyone had believed they'd already seen Akio's limit. But the child of lightning had been hiding more.
He closed his eyes, then slowly raised his head. His voice came out rough and thunder-like:
{Lightning Vakin — Raijin Pulse!}
Light exploded. A deafening thunderclap tore through the air. A massive ring of electricity burst from Akio's body, violently throwing everything nearby backward. Spectators near the front were flung to the ground as tiles beneath his feet cracked apart, lightning rising from his body to the sky.
Ryusei raised his sword to block—but he was too slow.
The strike hit his chest with crushing force, driving him back for the first time since the battle began. He slid two meters across the floor, smoke rising from his cloak.
He fell to one knee, clutching his chest. His face was pale—not from pain, but disbelief.
Akio stood at the center of the ring, panting, but when his eyes caught the injured people around the edges of the arena, he froze. He looked at his trembling hands, then at those who had been hit unintentionally. His eyes tightened.
"I… went too far?"
It was his first time activating Raijin Pulse—and it marked the beginning of his entry into an entirely new realm.
Ryusei remained kneeling, still pressing his chest. His breathing was uneven, each inhale dragging a string of pure pain. Sparks flickered from his half-burned clothes, a hole torn right over his heart.
A second passed. Only a second, but enough for Ryusei to realize—
He pierced me.
For the first time, he felt lightning not just strike his body—but sink into his heart.
Akio's pulse hadn't been just an attack. It was a message.
With every beat that followed, Ryusei felt something foreign pulsing inside his chest—something that wasn't his.
He pressed a trembling hand to the ground, trying to rise, but his limbs wouldn't obey. His fingers shook uncontrollably. His eyes lost focus for an instant.
That boy… is insane!
Yet beneath the shock and pain, the strongest feeling wasn't fear.
It was thrill.
Ryusei smiled faintly. A drop of blood slid from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to stand. Then, in a low voice—barely audible, yet reaching Akio all the same—he said:
"Finally… you interest me."
The crowd erupted after a long silence.
Ann shouted from the stands, her voice blazing with excitement:
"Akiooo! Show them who you are!"
The crowd's chants began to echo through the arena, their voices calling his name for the first time as the sound filled the air. Akio raised one of his swords toward the sky, sparks swirling around him in a spiral.
He smiled lightly and spoke in a strong, resounding voice, as if the entire world could hear him.
"My name is Sakamoto Akio!"
Then he pointed his sword toward Ryusei standing on the opposite side, his voice filled with pride and determination.
"And I will become the future Shogun… the Shogun who will change this world!"
The arena erupted in cheers—clapping, shouting, and laughter of admiration. Even Ken raised an eyebrow slightly and said in a cold tone, though a faint glint of interest flickered in his eyes,
"Such boldness… from a child who still doesn't know the meaning of the world."
But Ryusei didn't join the noise. He simply laughed—a quiet, chilling laugh.
"Shogun…?"
He lifted his head toward Akio and continued,
"Even great dreams need a dreamer strong enough not to destroy himself chasing them."
In the next instant, he vanished. No one saw the movement. The only sound was a sharp impact, and Akio's sword flew into the air, spinning. Ryusei appeared behind him, his star-forged blade piercing through Akio's shoulder in a flash. A red spark burst from the wound, and a muffled cry escaped Akio's lips. His body fell forward slowly, blood seeping between his trembling fingers as he tried to hold himself up.
Ryusei lifted his head toward the audience, his voice calm yet terrifying.
"Those who don't know their limits can never become Shogun."
Akio was still on the ground, his breathing heavy—but his eyes… they hadn't dimmed. He knew the dream wasn't dead, even if the body was falling. Some clapped weakly in confusion, while others sat frozen in heavy silence, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.
The announcer's voice came out steady and emotionless.
"The winner… Ryusei, the Star Reaper."
The words hit Ann like a bullet. She stood frozen, watching Akio lying on the ground, surrounded by the shadow of defeat and the weight of pain. Ryusei simply adjusted his black mask, then turned and walked away in silence, as if he had just crushed something meaningless.
Akio began to move slowly. His body trembled, breaths ragged, blood dripping from his mouth to the ground. He lifted his head with effort and spoke in a broken, hoarse voice that barely escaped his shattered breath.
"No… not yet… I can still… fight… ah…"
He coughed, his voice mixing with blood. Then he started crawling—each movement tearing through his nerves. Akio kept crawling as if fighting death itself, until he reached Ken's feet. Ken stood there with his arms crossed, his cold gaze merciless.
Akio looked up at him, eyes fading, voice faltering.
"Ken… I was… so close…"
Ken didn't move. He stared down with gray, emotionless eyes, and said in a low, cutting tone.
"Being close means nothing. In the end, the loser is still a loser."
Akio froze. The words pierced deeper than the blade had. His lips trembled before a silent tear fell to the ground. His body shook, but this time the pain wasn't from the wound—it was from the bitter sting of weakness. The tear wasn't just pain. It was shame.
"The loser… is still a loser."
Ken stood motionless, but inside, his heart wasn't silent. It screamed.
"Remember this feeling, Akio. Let it burn in your chest. Let it build something stronger within you."
He turned and left without looking back. Akio remained still on the ground. In the darkness of his pain, the words echoed within him again…
"The loser… is still a loser…"
But something changed in the echo. It no longer sounded weak. It sounded like a vow. He smiled faintly, brokenly, coughing blood as he whispered to himself,
"I'll remember this moment well… and one day, I won't be the loser anymore."
His eyes slowly closed, leaving the arena drowned in heavy silence—
a silence that did not announce defeat,
but the birth of a new will.