The arena gates opened with a metallic groan.
Renjiro Kurosawa walked forward. The sunlight hit his silver-striped robe, and for a moment it looked like he was wearing the dawn itself. The crowd's roar washed over him, but he only heard his heartbeat.
Across the field stood Takuma Fujikawa, lightning already dancing around his shoulders. His eyes burned—half pride, half pain.
"Now!" the commentator shouted. "The second battle for the last three spots—Renjiro Kurosawa, wielder of the Metal Shōin, versus Takuma Fujikawa, the prodigy of Thunder!"
Renjiro rolled his shoulders once.
Thunder… a hard counter. Perfect.
Takuma vanished.
A crack of air and a blinding flash—Renjiro barely raised his arm before a lightning-charged fist crashed into his guard. Sparks sprayed. His boots slid backward, carving two deep grooves in the stone.
Takuma grinned. "You can't block lightning, Kurosawa!"
Renjiro exhaled slowly and pushed him away. "We'll see."
He opened his palms. Liquid steel spiraled up, hardening into twin blades. The crowd gasped as the edges gleamed white.
"Kōgane Ken."
Takuma's grin widened. "Pretty toys. Let's see how long they last!"
"Raigeki Ken!" Lightning burst from his fists as he shot forward.
The clash was instant—lightning and metal ringing against each other again and again, every strike sending shockwaves through the coliseum. The smell of ozone filled the air.
Renjiro blocked, deflected, countered. Each spark left a black scorch on his armor. Takuma's speed was unreal; even the crowd couldn't follow his movements anymore.
He's faster than I thought… can't trade blows forever.
Takuma leapt back, electricity wrapping around his body like a storm cloak. "You're strong, but you're too slow!"
He slammed his hands to the ground. "Ikazuchi no Hashira!"
Bolts rained down from above. The floor exploded with light. Renjiro raised a steel barrier, crouching beneath it as thunder crashed again and again. Each impact cracked his guard a little more.
When the storm finally faded, the barrier fell apart in glowing fragments. Renjiro stood inside the crater, smoke rising from his shoulder.
Takuma laughed, panting. "How's that, tin man?"
Renjiro's eyes narrowed. He stabbed one sword into the ground. Thin lines of metal crept outward like veins.
"You talk too much."
Takuma charged again—then froze. The moment his foot landed, a spike of steel erupted upward. He twisted aside, the blade slicing his sleeve.
"What the—traps?!"
Renjiro didn't answer. He pulled his sword free and swung it in a wide arc; more thin wires shimmered under the dust.
"Metal remembers touch," he said quietly. "You left a trail for me."
Takuma's smile faltered. His father's voice flashed through his mind—You were born to win!—and he roared to drown it out.
Blue light erupted around him. "Then I'll burn your memory away! Raijin no Kōsen!"
A single, massive bolt speared toward Renjiro.
Renjiro crossed both arms. "Tekkai Kyōka!"
Metal wrapped his body in a molten shell just as the lightning struck. The arena went white. Dust and sand flew into the stands.
When the glow faded, Renjiro was still standing, one knee down, armor smoking but intact.
Takuma stared, eyes wide. "You—blocked—that?"
Renjiro rose slowly, armor melting back into his skin. "You rely too much on power."
"Shut up!"
Takuma blurred forward again, fists flashing. Renjiro parried once, twice—then deliberately missed a block. The punch glanced off his shoulder, grounding Takuma's current into the metal still lingering there. The lightning dispersed harmlessly through the field.
Takuma staggered. "What—!"
"You just electrified the arena for me," Renjiro said. "Now I know where you'll move."
He lifted his hand. Sparks shimmered in the air—not thunder's sparks, but reflections from dozens of floating silver shapes.
Takuma looked up.
Above them, the sky glittered with a thousand points of light.
Renjiro's voice was calm. "Stage 1 final—Hyakutō no Sora."
The blades fell.
Takuma screamed and threw everything he had left upward. Bolts ripped the sky apart, striking blade after blade, shattering half before they landed—but the rest kept falling, a storm of steel and light.
The ground shook. Thunder and metal merged into one deafening roar.
When the storm cleared, the arena was littered with glowing swords. Takuma was on one knee in the center, his lightning flickering out like a dying flame.
Renjiro approached, breathing hard, armor cracked and dull.
Takuma laughed weakly. "You out-thought me… huh?"
Renjiro nodded. "You were born fast. I had to learn to be faster in my head."
Takuma looked up, eyes calm now. "He'll hate that I lost."
"Then stop fighting for him," Renjiro said. "Fight for yourself."
A faint smile crossed Takuma's face before he collapsed forward, unconscious.
The referee lifted his arm. "Winner—Renjiro Kurosawa!"
The crowd erupted. The coliseum seemed to breathe again.
Renjiro stood in the center, silent. The wind moved through the broken blades, making them sing—a soft, metallic hymn.
He looked up toward the stands where Mr. Fujikawa sat, expression unreadable.
Your son doesn't need your shadow anymore, Renjiro thought.
Then he turned and walked toward the tunnel, the cheers echoing behind him. For a moment, lightning flickered across one of the fallen swords before fading into gold.
The Divine Crucible had chosen its second victor.
And somewhere deep inside its walls, the gods watched in silence.
Nobody knew.The Gods were waiting.