The flag still stood untouched.It swayed slightly in the wind, like it was waiting — watching.
Kuro and Astrid circled it slowly. Their footsteps were quiet, deliberate, and tense.
Every inch mattered.
The crowd had stopped roaring. They weren't just watching a battle anymore.
They were witnessing a chess match between wolves.
"You're holding back," Astrid said.
Her voice wasn't a taunt. It was an observation.
Kuro shrugged, his hands in his pockets.
"You are too."
"Because you haven't shown me anything worth going all out for."
"Then maybe," Kuro said, his golden eyes narrowing, "we're waiting on each other to break first."
Another silence.
Then they both moved.
Astrid blinked — and vanished.
A shimmer of light followed her as she darted to the left, a ghost with silver fangs. Her dagger curved in a crescent slash aimed for Kuro's blind spot.
But Kuro was already turning, his body moving before his eyes did. He ducked under her blade, reached for her ankle—
She was gone.
She reappeared behind him, no noise, no warning, aiming a strike for the nerve in his shoulder.
He caught her wrist — barely.
The arena cracked beneath their feet from the force of their footwork. Their shadows danced under the torchlight.
"You fight like a mirror," Astrid said, breathing calmly, their arms locked.
"You hide like a ghost," Kuro replied. "I see why you waited until now."
"And I see why you wear a mask," she said sharply. "You're afraid of being seen."
That hit deeper than it should have.
Kuro's smile faded for the first time.
He pushed her back with a single, fluid motion. Astrid flipped midair and landed like a feather.
I couldn't tell who had the upper hand.
No, that's the point, I realized. They're not fighting to win right now. They're fighting to understand.
Kuro raised one hand, lazily drawing a symbol in the air with his index finger. A glowing line followed — pale gold, subtle.
"So you use glyphs," Astrid noted.
"Sometimes," Kuro replied. "But I prefer psychology."
He tapped the line, and it vanished.
Astrid didn't hesitate. She sprinted to her left — away from the flag — and the ground exploded behind her in a line of bursting glyph mines.
She was already flipping forward, sliding across the ground as more blasts followed her trail.
"Traps won't work," she muttered.
"They're not traps," Kuro said, already appearing in front of her with a roundhouse kick.
She blocked — but the force pushed her backward.
"They're distractions."
Astrid narrowed her eyes. "You're not even trying to win. You just want to break my rhythm."
Kuro's grin returned.
"Exactly. I like patterns. And I love breaking them."
Suddenly, a low fog spilled out of Astrid's sleeves — silver mist, conjured silently through her gear.
Kuro stepped back, analyzing instantly.
"Mist generation?"
"Mixed with anti-aura threads," Astrid said, stepping into the fog. "You can't see me in here. And I can still see you."
Kuro didn't move.
The fog enveloped him.
Everyone leaned forward in anticipation.
I couldn't see him anymore.
Kuro…?
The fog pulsed with faint flashes — light glinting from steel. You could hear movements now. Taps. Steps. Faint clashes of metal. Breaths. A heartbeat.
Then silence.
Suddenly—
A figure flew out of the fog.
It was Astrid — she landed in a crouch, sliding backward, breathing heavy.
From within the mist, Kuro stepped out — completely calm.
He wasn't even scratched.
"Your fog doesn't make you invisible," he said quietly. "Not to someone like me."
Astrid's eyes twitched. For the first time… she looked frustrated.
"How?"
"I memorized your rhythm. Your tempo. The way your heartbeat shifts when you go in for a feint versus a real strike. You fight beautifully, Astrid. But you don't know how to be ugly."
Astrid's fists tightened.
"Don't talk like you understand me."
"But I do," Kuro said, stepping toward the flag.
"You're someone who doesn't want to be seen unless you're winning. You don't want the world to know what you look like when you're drowning."
Astrid rushed him.
No fancy fog. No tricks.
Just pure, razor-sharp fury.
Daggers in both hands. Her aura a bladed storm.
She slashed — once, twice, twelve times — her attacks too fast to follow. Kuro weaved between them like he'd danced this choreography a thousand times.
And for a moment…
They both stopped.
Breathing heavy. Weapons lowered.
The flag stood just a few feet away.
Kuro tilted his head. "You're not angry at me."
Astrid didn't respond.
He kept going.
"You're angry that you can't read me. That I won't give you something to hate."
Astrid said nothing.
"You fight with precision," he said. "But hate will dull that blade."
She stepped forward. "And you? You're still smiling. Still pretending this is a game."
"It is a game," Kuro said, turning slowly. "But only for those who know how to survive it."
Their eyes met again.
The flag stood between them.
Neither moved.
But both of them—
Smirked.
Their shadows touched.
The next second would define everything.
To be continued…