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"Holy shit, Russell's defense is insane!"
The thought rippled through the crowd like a shockwave. Murmurs turned to excited chatter as people leaned forward in their seats, hands gripping armrests. These weren't casual spectators—they knew their stuff, could recognize quality when they saw it.
And Meng Po? Everyone knew Meng Po. The old woman with her bowl of forgetting soup was legendary, a household name in cardmaking circles. But right now, watching her blood-yellow river crash uselessly against Russell's layered defenses, she might as well have been throwing water balloons.
"No way," someone muttered behind Lucian. "Is this kid actually going to win?"
But then eyes shifted to Wade, still standing calm and collected at his side of the battlefield, and doubt crept back in. "Nah, Young Master Wade's got this. That kind of defense can't last forever. Eventually the mental power runs out, right?"
What they didn't know—what they couldn't know—was that Russell had more mental power than common sense. If Wade couldn't break through Fubuki's defenses, Russell could literally just stand there and wait for him to exhaust himself. Death by attrition. Slow, boring, but effective.
Wade saw it too. His lips curled in annoyance, his confident smirk twisting into something uglier. Don't struggle, he thought, frustration building like pressure in his chest. Just lose to me honestly. Goddamn turtle shell.
The standoff continued for another few seconds, both sides probing for openings. Then everything changed.
A massive circular shadow bloomed into existence behind Retsu Unohana—the [Seireitei], its outline sharp against the green glow of the barrier. The Field Card's presence washed over the arena like a wave of pressure, making the air feel heavier.
The crowd gasped. Half the audience surged to their feet.
"A Field Card!?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"That's a silver-level Field Card—how does he already have one of those?"
Lightning erupted from Unohana's palms—not normal electricity but something hotter, brighter, tinged with spiritual energy that made the air crackle and pop. The bolt screamed across the battlefield with unparalleled power, leaving scorched afterimages in its wake.
The blood-yellow river surged upward to meet it. Water and lightning collided in a spectacular explosion of steam and light. The river held firm, absorbing the attack like a sponge, the endless flow of cursed water simply overwhelming the electric assault.
The crowd's excitement deflated like a punctured balloon. People sat back down, disappointment written across their faces.
"Guess the quality isn't that high after all."
"Even with a Field Card boost, he can't break through Meng Po's defense."
"Wade's cards are just on another level."
Russell stood at the sidelines, his jaw tight. His mind raced through calculations, scenarios, backup plans. The same trick won't work twice. Last time he'd beaten Meng Po because Wade didn't know about Artoria's light cannon. Now? Wade was ready for everything, his cards positioned perfectly to counter Russell's known threats.
Time for Plan B.
Russell's eyes flicked to Unohana. Something passed between cardmaker and card—not words, but understanding. Her gentle expression shifted subtly, something cold creeping into her eyes like frost spreading across glass.
One moment she was in the back row. The next—
Flash Step.
Unohana vanished and reappeared directly in front of Wade's lineup, her sword already drawn.
The arena went dead silent for a heartbeat.
Then erupted into chaos.
"HUH!?"
"WHAT IS HE DOING!?"
"I want to report someone for throwing the game!"
"Who the hell sends their ranged healer to MELEE!?" A man jumped to his feet, screaming at the battlefield. "If you don't know how to play, let me do it!"
"This is insane!"
"He's lost his mind!"
Only Grant, watching from the Battle Club section with narrowed eyes, stayed silent. His arms were crossed, his expression thoughtful. There's something here. Russell wouldn't make a move this stupid unless...
Wade's eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed with vicious glee. Did I rattle him that badly? His pulse quickened with excitement. He actually made a mistake!
"Crush her!" Wade barked.
The hammer-wielder's weapon swung down in a devastating arc, golden light trailing behind it. The wind from the strike alone was enough to make several audience members flinch. The hammer descended toward Unohana's skull with enough force to pulverize stone.
Some viewers closed their eyes, unable to watch.
TING!
The sound wasn't the wet crunch of a crushed skull. It was metal on metal, high and sharp, the kind of noise that made your teeth ache and your spine shiver.
Eyes opened. Jaws dropped.
The gentle elder sister with the braided hair was gone. Standing in her place was something else entirely—a figure with long black hair draped over her haori, her face carved from ice, showing neither sadness nor joy nor mercy. Her sword had intercepted the golden hammer, catching it mid-swing.
Spiritual power erupted from the ground around her like a geyser, visible to the naked eye—a crushing, suffocating aura that made the air feel thick as syrup. In the stands, people gasped, their hands flying to their chests as if they could physically feel the pressure.
The crowd was stunned into silence.
"What the fuck?"
"Isn't that supposed to be a support card?"
"A HEALER? That's a HEALER!?"
In the VIP section, Blake Whitmore let out a long, satisfied laugh. "So that's the trick." When he'd tested Unohana at Russell's house, something had felt off—her power signature hadn't matched what she'd shown in documented fights. Now it made perfect sense. Two forms. Two completely different combat styles.
William leaned back in his seat, chuckling despite himself. "Hahaha, Old Blake, your disciple's cards are really something special."
Blake's smile widened. "He does like his surprises."
In New Metro, Jonathan Whitmore sat frozen on the couch, his mouth slightly open. He'd just been explaining to Nancy—in his most professional, fatherly tone—that Russell had made a critical tactical error sending his ranged support into melee range. That it was a rookie mistake, the kind of thing that lost matches.
And then Unohana had transformed into whatever that was.
"Dad," Nancy's voice drifted over, sweet and innocent with an undercurrent of smug satisfaction, "are you really a gold-level cardmaker?"
Jonathan's face flushed red. "I—that's—Russell's cards are all original!" His voice came out higher than intended, defensive. "It's completely normal for me to make a mistake in analysis!"
Nancy's lips twitched, fighting back a smile. "Mm-hmm. Sure, Dad."
Jonathan adjusted his glasses with excessive force and turned his attention back to the screen, determined to salvage some dignity.
On the battlefield, Unohana's power exploded outward in a visible wave. The hammer-wielder staggered backward, his weapon trembling in his grip. The ground beneath him spiderwebbed with cracks, chunks of stone breaking free and tumbling into newly formed crevices.
Wade's other cards didn't hesitate. The blood-yellow river surged forward. The fan-wielder's foul wind howled. Melinoë's half-black, half-white form flickered as she phased partially out of reality, preparing to strike from an unexpected angle.
Unohana's cold eyes tracked all of them simultaneously. She moved with fluid grace, her body twisting sideways to dodge the river. The evil wind grazed her shoulder, tearing fabric but missing flesh. Melinoë's spectral blade sliced toward her ribs—
Blood sprayed.
The cut was deep, exposing white bone beneath shredded muscle. The crowd gasped in horror.
Green light flashed in Unohana's palm. The wound sealed itself like it had never existed, skin knitting back together in seconds.
"WHAT!?" someone shrieked from the stands.
"She can HEAL HERSELF while fighting!?"
"That's broken! That's completely broken!"
"A fake healer stays in the back, carefully healing teammates," someone else shouted, their voice tinged with hysteria. "A REAL healer fights on the front lines and heals herself when she gets hurt. As long as all the enemies are killed, her teammates don't need healing!"
The logic was insane but somehow made perfect sense.
Wade felt ice creep down his spine. Something was wrong. Where were Russell's other cards? Why wasn't Fubuki defending anymore? He tried to spread his mental power outward, to get a better sense of the battlefield layout—
Russell's mental power slammed into his like a wall, shoving it back. Wade's head snapped back slightly from the feedback.
"Tsk." Wade's jaw clenched. Fine. Can't scout. Then we kill what's in front of us first.
Under the coordinated assault of four silver-level cards, Unohana became a whirlwind of violence. Her blade sang through the air, each strike cracking the ground, sending chunks of debris flying. Spiritual pressure radiated from her in waves, making the air shimmer.
But four against one was still four against one.
A slash from Melinoë's spectral blade. A gust of foul wind that knocked her off balance. The river wrapping around her ankle. The hammer coming down on her shoulder. She healed each wound, green light flashing again and again, but the injuries were coming faster than she could fully repair them.
Blood began to pool at her feet, a small stream growing wider with each exchange.
Finally, she stood with her sword planted in the ground, using it for support. Her cold eyes fixed on the four cards surrounding her, unblinking, unyielding even as blood dripped from a dozen cuts.
The crowd was on the edge of their seats, some standing, hands clutched to their chests.
Russell watched from the sideline, his expression carefully neutral. Inside, his thoughts churned. I wish you could use Bankai right now. Wish you could just cut loose and tear them all apart. But that would ruin everything. For his plan to work, she had to fall here. I'll make it up to you later. Promise.
The blood-yellow river rushed forward one final time, a massive wave that crashed over Unohana's position. When it receded, she was gone, swallowed by the cursed water.
"WHAT THE HELL!?"
"The other cards are just standing around! DO SOMETHING!"
"The cards are powerful but the cardmaker is shit!"
"Russell, what are you DOING!?"
The insults rained down from the stands, angry and confused. Russell just stood there, arms crossed, face blank as a statue. Like the battle happening ten meters away had nothing to do with him whatsoever.
The higher-level cardmakers in the VIP section exchanged knowing looks. They understood. You could see it in the way Blake leaned back with a satisfied smile. The way William's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Patriarch Wu, sitting in the family section, leaned forward urgently. His mouth opened—he needed to warn Wade, needed to tell him something was wrong—
No sound came out.
His jaw worked uselessly. Panic flashed in his eyes as he tried again and again. Nothing. He looked around wildly and saw other masters watching him, their gazes heavy with warning. With so many high-level cardmakers present, there was no way they'd allow outside interference.
Wade frowned, his victory feeling hollow somehow. Off. His tactical mind turned over the situation, looking for the missing piece. What did I miss? What—
His eyes swept the battlefield.
Unohana: down, submerged in the cursed water.
Fubuki: standing in the back, not defending.
Neliel: still cowering, useless.
Artoria: not visible in the back row... wait.
Wade's stomach dropped.
Artoria wasn't in the back row. She wasn't anywhere visible on the battlefield. She'd never returned to her position after the initial engagement.
She was gone.
Wade's face went white, his eyes widening with the terrible realization of what he'd just walked into.
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