The final horn of the mini-tournament echoed across the grounds. Contestants wiped sweat and blood from their bodies as spectators cheered, oblivious to the violent storm that had just occurred miles away in the canyon. The stage was set for the main tournament, the one that would determine champions, alliances, and the ambitions of countless warriors across the world.
Announcements rang out across the fields. "The mini-tournament has concluded! All competitors, please report for the main event! Let the grand battle begin!"
Roy walked alongside Kieran, still silently reflecting on the events that had transpired. Despite the triumph, the weight of the canyon fight lingered in his movements, the memory of those two subordinates hovering faintly in the shadows of his mind. Kieran's anger had not fully dissipated, but the chaos of the tournament demanded focus.
Crowds surged as fighters from all regions prepared their strategies. The stakes were higher than ever, and rumours of the Masked Man — though not fully circulated — had reached a few ears, creating tension among the most seasoned participants. The main tournament would not just be a test of skill; it would be a test of survival, strategy, and sheer willpower.
Kieran finally broke the silence. "You know, for someone who just… destroyed an entire Judicator team, you don't seem any different. Calm and collected. Untouched by it all. It's… infuriating."
Roy glanced at him briefly. "Control isn't about emotion. It's about efficiency. The tournament doesn't wait for sentiment, and neither do I."
Kieran groaned, shaking his head. "Efficiency, sure. But no one should have to endure what you made those two go through just for efficiency."
Roy only smiled faintly beneath his mask. "And yet, they're still alive. The rest… is temporary. Focus on the main event. If you can't keep up, you'll be the one left behind."
The sky shifted as the tournament arenas glimmered in the distance. New competitors arrived, many boasting prana manipulation and Soul Arts of terrifying scale. The tension was palpable. Every participant knew the next few days would change everything reputations, power structures, and perhaps even the balance of life for those under the Watch's shadow.
Roy didn't speak. He only watched the horizon, mask tilted slightly. A calm storm, poised to act. The main tournament would begin, and with it, the reckoning of a world slowly catching wind of the Masked Man. And though none could yet know his full strength, one fact was undeniable: when the first strike fell, the world would remember his name.
Kieran, running alongside him, could only match his steps in silence. There was fury, yes, and concern. But above all, there was a begrudging recognition that Roy's path was his own and that it would not bend to sentiment, authority, or expectation.
The main tournament was no longer just a battle for victory. It was a stage for legends, for truths, and for those willing to endure what others could not. And Roy, as always, stood ready to carve his own way through it all.