"You made the wrong choice against us," the voice cut sharp through the storm.
"Let's see how you survive."
The rain poured harder, drumming on rock and soil.
Only two sounds echoed now—thunder above, and footsteps approaching fast.
A crack of lightning illuminated the field just enough to reveal them:
Strikavax, a lightning eagle Whisp, zigzagging with blinding speed through the mist, talons glowing electric.
Moltrailk, the armoured shell-beast, barrelling forward like a rolling storm.
Behind them—two trainers rushing through the fog, hands ready to grab Jimmy's tags.
Jimmy didn't flinch.
"Luna, don't use electric or I'll get shocked too," he said calmly.
Luna gave a silent nod, her eyes glowing through the downpour.
"Make clones. Go past them—and hit hard."
Without another word, Luna's real body and a third clone landed silently in front of the approaching Whisps. They halted by tackle each other — only to find Moltrailk feet frozen to the ground and even his heat can't able to keep up with luna's power. About Strikavax, her wings are getting frozen and she started to come down. Rainwater had gathered around them, and Luna's ice had silently crept in.
Then from that tackle, Luna shimmered—splitting into two perfect clones. One dashed left, one right—rushing directly at the two charging trainers to hold them in place.
BAM!
A sudden strike from both sides—clean hits. Make their feet frozen to the ground. Rainwater had gathered around them, and Luna's ice had silently crept in.
They were stuck.
"Hold them, Luna."
Luna answered with a firm nod.
Her body pulsed with water energy—and suddenly, the mist parted for a moment.
Fifteen Luna clones surrounded the Moltrailk , forming a defensive circle.
Fifteen more danced in the sky, clashing with Strikavax mid-air.
Moltrailk, mid-roll, hesitated. His instincts screamed that his Whisp Master was in danger—but now everyone was surrounded. Strikavax couldn't tell which Luna was real. But Luna water gun to keep them there, in same position.
And then—
Through the chaos, Jimmy walked. Calm. Silent.
The rain ran down his blindfold. His coat billowed in the wind.
No one noticed.
In a smooth motion, he passed behind
And snatched all 88 tags.
Like a shadow, he returned to his place behind Luna just as a stray lightning bolt lit the sky again.
Only then did someone scream.
"M-My tags?! Wait—my pocket—!!"
Panic erupted between two of them.
"He took them—!!"
"How?!"
"That's impossible—he was just standing—!!"
Luna stood tall, horns shimmering with condensed rain, water weaving through her clones like a net.
Jimmy let out a quiet breath, then raised his competition wristband.
BEEP—BEEP.
The screen lit up as he scanned the fallen tags, and the system chimed with confirmation.
"Tags accepted. Points updated."
Moltrailk backed away, confused and overwhelmed.
The two would-be attackers still stood frozen, staring in disbelief as their badges were gone.
And Jimmy?
He just turned slightly and smirked.
......
Both of them—along with their Whisps—vanished from the field.
The fog cleared.
The rain stopped.
The lightning stilled.
Silence returned.
In the middle of the empty battlefield, Jimmy started to his journey.
His coat wet, hair dripping, he walked calmly toward the archway that marked the entrance to Region 2. A wooden sign swung slightly in the breeze beside a small supply station — stocked with potions, gear, food. He gave it a passing glance and nodded faintly... then kept walking, unbothered.
......
BEEP-BEEP—ZRRRT!
Suddenly, Lingrithms signal reconnected. All across the arena screens and wrist devices flickered back to life.
First—only black static.
Then—a burst of data.
The leader board blinked once… and updated.
A hush fell.
Then—roars. Explosions of sound.
........
Lingrithms signal finally stabilized—and the audience froze.
One second, it was only black smoke on-screen.
The next—eight names blinked red.
Eliminated. All at once.
"What the—?! All eight names gone?! Gone?!"
"Did we just lose signal or did he just—?"
"No, no, check again—that's a full sweep. ALL eight! Are you kidding me?!"
Another screen blinked to life—
The Leaderboard.
And then it hit them.
"Wait—look! Look at the bottom! Someone's climbing—"
"D27? Who the hell is D27?!"
BOOM.
The D27 tag blasted upward—
past one row—then ten—
twenty. Thirty. Forty—
EIGHTY POSITIONS GONE.
"He's flying up! Second from the top?! Are you serious?!"
"That's not a climb—that's a freaking missile!"
"He just jumped nearly eighty spots in one go!"
"There's no way. That's gotta be some kind of record!"
The crowd surged forward, screams mixing with gasps.
"I told you—didn't I? Whoever that kid is, he's not normal."
"That wasn't just a win."
"Who takes down Zirae without leaving a scratch?"
"No visuals?! No footage?! Someone pull the satellite feeds!"
"Are we sure that was one guy? It had to be a squad—"
"No. That was one person. It says solo."
"What the hell just happened out there?!"
...................
People started recording the leader board with shaky hands.
Clips. Posts. Hashtags.
#D27Sweep #BlackCoatPhantom #88TagsGone #SoloDominator #MistAndMayhem #FromNowhereToLegend #HeDidWhat?! #SecondPlace #LeaderboardShattered
And in the chaos—a single name burned across every screen:
D27
The screen flashes these in rapid sequence, viewers across cities trying to clip the moment, while some speculate it wasn't even humanly possible.
Jimmy walked slowly toward the second region's gates, rain still dripping from his coat. He didn't stop at the shop station—just gave it a slight nod and passed by, disappearing into the fog-drenched path ahead.
The crowd erupted in applause, confusion, and growing fascination. People stood from their seats. Livestream comments exploded in numbers, messages flooding every second. Broadcasters scrambled to analyse the incomplete data feed.
Yet the cameras showed only a shrinking figure walking away beneath the darkened sky—quiet, alone.
Jimmy never looked back.
.............
Somewhere, a high-level official stood from their seat.
In a shadowed control room, someone marked his profile.
To be continued.......