Rain hammered the town like it wanted to wash it off the map.
The square was almost empty. Neon signs flickered in the distance, colors smeared by the downpour until everything looked like one long blur. Under the sagging metal awning of a closed shop, seven people huddled together, steam rising from their clothes every time they breathed.
The storm wrapped around them in a curtain of sound, but it didn't mute the tension. If anything, it made it sharper.
Sean leaned against a cracked concrete pillar, one hand on his ribs, the other braced against the wall. His face looked older in the streetlight—lines deeper, eyes duller. The rain streaking down his cheeks might as well have been sweat or tears.
No one spoke at first. Only the hiss of water on pavement filled the space between them.
Then Yohan's voice cut through it.
"Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now."
He didn't shout. He didn't have to. The threat in his tone did the work, sharp as a drawn blade. His eyes burned, cold and focused, locked on Sean like a target.
"He's right," Jax said, stepping forward, jaw tight. "They said you were in on it. That this whole arrest mess was your handiwork."
Sarah's expression hardened. Rain clung to her lashes as she added, "I went along with it because I wanted answers. That's all."
Axel's fingers twitched at his side, chain not far from his grasp. Kaya's stance shifted, weight ready to move either way.
Kane stepped between them. Hands raised. Feet planted.
"Enough," he said. His voice carried over the rain, steady but edged. "I thought the same thing at first. I was ready to punch his teeth in. But the officer I fought told me something different before he went down. Sean refused to sell us out. Just… let him talk."
It wasn't like the hostility suddenly vanished. It just paused, redirected.
All eyes turned back to Sean.
He drew a slow breath and let it out through his nose. For a moment he looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff he'd hoped never to revisit.
"You want the truth?" he said quietly. "Fine. You deserve it anyway."
He shifted his weight, wincing, then started.
"Welbeck and I… we weren't always running rookie fights and booking arena spots. Twenty years ago, we hunted people for a living."
Nobody interrupted. The rain filled the gaps between his sentences.
"We were bounty hunters working with the police," Sean went on. "Not the clean kind, either. Our job was simple on paper: track down quantum users abusing their chips, haul them in alive, hand them to a special task force. We got paid well. We thought we were on the right side."
His mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"We even believed, stupidly, that because we cooperated, they'd leave us alone. 'We're useful,' we said. 'They need us,' we said."
The bitterness in his voice said how that turned out.
"Then one job went sideways," he said. "We delivered the targets. Same as always. Papers filed. Everything by the book."
His eyes darkened.
"And instead of cash, we got cuffs. No explanation. No second chance. Just guns and orders."
He leaned his head back against the pillar, staring up at the leaking roof like he could still see that day.
"We barely escaped," he admitted. "Lost friends. Lost whatever faith we had left. After that, we knew the truth—they don't trust quantum users, not ever. Doesn't matter if you help them or not."
He dropped his gaze back to them.
"So we quit. No more bounties. No more playing fetch dog for the task force. Instead, we used our contacts to set something else up. A pipeline for rookies who wanted a shot at the big arenas."
The storm gentled slightly, turning the world into grey noise.
"We sent others before you," Sean said. "Years' worth. Kids, adults, people from every corner, all convinced this was their chance."
He swallowed.
"None of them made it. Tournaments chewed them up. Different arenas, same story. They died out there—on 'big stages' that never cared what their names were."
No one said anything.
"That was when we changed the plan," Sean went on, voice low. "Instead of throwing everyone at the wall to see who sticks, we decided to build our own roster. Fewer rookies, more training. A group of fighters we could actually stand behind."
He nodded once toward them. "That was you."
Jax shifted his weight, expression tight. Kaya looked away. Axel frowned but didn't speak.
"And then you started winning," Sean said. "Doing better than any of the others we'd tried to send before you. You drew crowds. Money. Attention."
His jaw clenched.
"That's when Welbeck started to get ugly. Jealous. He suggested we go back to our old trade—turn you in, make a quiet profit. 'They're dangerous anyway,' he said. 'We'll be doing the world a favor.'"
Sean spat onto the wet concrete.
"I told him no. Told him we were done with that. Next thing I know, a squad jumps me in a back room, ties me to a chair, beats the hell out of me so I can't intervene. I wake up just in time to hear what he arranged."
He gestured weakly toward the collapsed hideout in the distance.
"You saw the rest."
Silence followed, but it felt different now. Less like choke-wire, more like a weight they all had to hold together.
Yohan was the first to break it. "Fine," he said curtly. "If you were going to sell us, you had easier chances."
Sarah exhaled slowly. "Good. I was getting really tired of thinking we got played."
Axel scratched the back of his neck. "So we can actually trust you now," he said. The joke was thin, but there was relief under it.
Kane nodded once. "Then we finish what we started. Can we still make it?"
"Yes," Sean said, some of his old steel returning to his voice. He pushed off the pillar, standing a little straighter. "But we're cutting it close. The Arena's about an hour from here, middle of town."
Jax frowned. "I thought our place was already locked?"
"Not quite," Sean answered. His gaze flicked out to the rain like he could see the clock inside it. "I was supposed to bring my 'bag of fighters' in person by seven. I told them I'd be presenting you as my reps, but other recruiters are bringing their own teams too. They left one slot open. If we're late… it's gone."
Axel shoved his hands into his pockets and jingled keys. "I've got the van close. Seats are crap, but it moves."
"That'll do," Sean said. "Move."
They ran through the rain, boots splashing through puddles, breath hanging in the cold air. Axel's black van sat crooked near the curb, streaked with grime and lit by weak street lamps.
Everyone piled in. Doors slammed. The engine coughed, then roared awake. Axel floored it.
The city streaked by in a blur of wet asphalt, neon signs, and the occasional patrol drone in the distance. Inside the van, no one talked much. They watched the time blink on the dashboard as if their lives depended on it.
Maybe they did.
When they screeched to a halt outside the Arena, the clock read 6:59 PM.
One minute.
Rain still poured, bouncing off the massive stadium's outer shell. LED panels wrapped around its top ring, cycling through ads and tournament banners. A line snaked from the main entrance, umbrellas and hoods and flashing wristbands.
Near the gate stood another group—a full squad of six, soaked but standing confident. Their gear was coordinated. Their eyes were sharp. They looked like they belonged there.
Only one slot remained.
An organizer—in a slick suit that somehow stayed dry despite the rain—stepped forward. His smile was too white, too wide. He looked at Sean's group, then at the other team, and his expression lit up like he'd just found free ratings.
"Well, well," he said. "Perfect timing."
He looked between both squads, voice rising enough to draw nearby attention.
"We've got two candidate teams and one final slot. Lucky us, hm? Easy fix. Each side picks a representative. One-on-one match. Winner's team goes in. Loser"—he shrugged, not bothering to finish—"tries again next year."
The words ran through both groups like an electrical charge.
Sean's rookies clustered tighter together.
"I'll go," Yohan said immediately. His tone wasn't loud, just certain. "I wanted the big stage. This is the shortest path."
Sarah's gaze flicked past him toward the Arena doors. "I can do it," she said quietly but firmly.
The argument that followed was short, but sharp.
Kaya and Jax backed Sarah. Kane hesitated, then sided with Yohan, knowing what he'd seen in their last fight. Axel agreed. Sean didn't vote aloud, but his eyes lingered on Yohan a little longer.
Four for Yohan. Three for Sarah.
The opposing team's pick was a young woman a little older than Kane, dark hair slick with rain, posture smooth as if the storm wasn't touching her. Her name was Natalie. Her gaze was steady, edged with something like quiet pride.
The organizer looked delighted as the choice snapped into place.
"Perfect," he said. "Let's not keep the crowd waiting."
The giant doors of the Arena swung open.
The noise hit like a physical force. Thousands of voices, stomping, shouting, cheering. Lights blasted down in shifting colors. Holo-screens hung from the ceiling, already buzzing with stats and sponsor logos.
Yohan and Natalie were ushered toward the stage. The rest of the team followed to the sidelines, lined up near the railings, suddenly very small in the face of the massive arena bowl.
"Alright, everyone!" The announcer's voice boomed from somewhere above, amplified until it shook the stands. "Before we get to tonight's main brackets, we've got a special treat!"
His energy shifted, leaning into the drama.
"Two teams arrived late—but instead of turning them away, we're giving them a chance. Each team has chosen one champion to fight in a qualifier. One shot. One winner. That victor takes their entire squad into the tournament!"
The crowd went wild. They loved last-minute twists almost as much as blood.
Kane stepped closer to Yohan before he walked away, lowering his voice so only he could hear.
"Last time we fought," Kane said, "you beat me. No excuses. You were stronger." He forced himself to hold Yohan's gaze, eyes burning with the weight of his words. "I hated it. But I learned from it. So when you go out there now, win. Take us through that door. Then, someday, we do this again—and next time, I'm the one walking away."
A corner of Yohan's mouth ticked upward. "I'd like to see you try," he replied. "Though I'm pretty sure I'd still put you on the floor."
He turned and walked toward the center of the stage.
The announcer's voice surged again.
"On my left—entering from the underground circuits with an undefeated streak—YOHAN VLAD! Rumor says he's never dropped a match. Will he keep that record tonight?!"
Chants broke out. "Yo-han! Yo-han!"
"And on my right," the announcer continued, "the blazing prodigy from the rival stable—NATALIE OPAL! Top of her roster and a fan favorite already. Can she burn through this challenger and claim the final tournament spot?"
The noise climbed even higher.
The referee stepped between them and raised a hand. The arena seemed to inhale all at once.
"Fight!"
Natalie moved first.
Her EP spiked; her HUD flared bright.
[Skill Activated: Dragon Fly Lv.4 - 40 EP]
Fire bloomed.
Dozens of dragonfly-shaped constructs burst into existence around her, each one a tiny ember with wings. They shot toward Yohan in a swarm, leaving streaks of flame in the air.
Yohan blurred.
[Skill Activated: Dash Lv.3]
He weaved through the swarm, each detonation going off just behind him, heat licking at his heels. To the crowd, his afterimage looked like a string of ghosts dodging between explosions.
"She's fast," Kane muttered, eyes locked on the arena floor.
Sarah shook her head, eyes narrowed. "She's not just fast. She's driving each of those individually. That kind of control at that level… she's bleeding EP every second."
On cue, Natalie's jaw tightened. "Let's see how long you dance," she said under her breath.
Her hands flared again. More dragonflies spawned, doubling the swarm until the air was thick with burning constructs. The stage became a maze of fire.
A stray blast finally caught Yohan's shoulder as he twisted away.
His HUD ticked down—120 / 140.
He exhaled slowly. The set of his eyes changed.
[Skill Activated: Lightning Stream Lv.4 - 40 EP]
Electricity tore across his blade, shrieking in high, vicious arcs. With a single sweeping slash, he sent it roaring outward.
Lightning ripped through the air, threading between dragonflies, then shearing straight through them. One after another, they exploded into ash and vanished, their heat replaced with sharp, white light.
The crowd gasped, a sound like a wave crashing into the bowl.
Natalie's eyes widened. "He cut—through all of them?"
By the time the last of her swarm dissolved, Yohan was gone from where he'd stood.
He reappeared behind her, sword edge tracing across her chestplate in a clean, brutal line.
Sparks flew.
Her HUD plummeted—10 / 120 | Critical.
She staggered forward, knees buckling, then hit the ground hard. The stadium went silent for half a heartbeat.
Then it exploded.
"UN-BE-LIEVABLE!" the announcer screamed into the mic. "Yohan Vlad does it AGAIN! His team seizes the final slot on tonight's main stage!"
The cheers were deafening now, a mix of awe, excitement, and the raw thrill of witnessing a dominant win.
On the sidelines, Kane's fists clenched at his sides. His teeth ground without him meaning them to.
So that's his real speed, he thought. That's the gap. For now.
Sean let out a slow breath he'd been holding since the ref's hand had gone up. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips for the first time since the hideout.
They'd made it.
They were inside.
But as Yohan walked back to them under the roar of the crowd, sword at his side, sweat still shining on his skin, it was obvious to all of them: this wasn't the end of anything.
This was the door finally opening.
The Big Stage had only just begun.