Aiko stared at the fray in shocked confusion. She tried to obey Zen's command to stay back, but her mind raced: What the hell is going on? How am I supposed to react to this? Nearby, Raizen watched the clash with a grin. The supervisor turned to him, his voice trembling with anger. "You need to stop that psycho before things get out of hand!"
"That 'psycho' is Zanka Tetsuryu," Raizen replied, his eyes never leaving the fight.
"I don't remember asking for his name," the supervisor snapped.
"He's a candidate for this SHIELD exam, just like Zen," Raizen continued. "Both have been top performers, though in very different ways. I was disappointed when he missed the drill, but he's here now. Haven't you wondered what would happen if these two 'Awakened Era' rookies clashed head-on? Besides, they both agreed to it."
The supervisor frowned. "They agreed because you forced Zen's hand! What if someone dies?"
"I won't let it go that far," Raizen said. "Not only would it get out of hand, but it would make Ayumu furious—and I don't want to be the guy who does that. Just relax and watch the show."
Zen gripped his ribs, coughing up blood. Shit, what the hell is this guy made of? he wondered, struggling to stand as his vision blurred. That last hit could have killed me. I have to end this fast, even if I have to run.
He tried to mask his agony as Zanka spoke. "Throughout this exam, everything has been a boring waste of time," Zanka said. Zen remained silent, staring him down.
Zanka's smirk widened, veins bulging at his temples. "But when I heard Kurogane Zen was here, I had no choice but to find you. Do you want to know my goal?"
Zen took a cautious step back, sweat trailing down his forehead. "I'm guessing you'll tell me regardless."
"My goal in life is to die," Zanka declared. A confused silence fell over the onlookers. "But not just any death. I want to lose myself in a battle against someone infinitely stronger—a glorious, violent end that leaves nothing left. So, Zen... I'm asking you. Please, kill me."
"You're crazy," Zen whispered, visibly creeped out.
Zanka laughed and charged again, unleashing a barrage of rapid-fire punches. Zen focused entirely on evasion, his mind racing. I can't let him land another hit. One more solid punch and I'm dead. Mid-dodge, Zen began firing back, finally landing a few desperate strikes of his own while still dodging Zanka's attacks.
Zen's counters, though precise, seemed to have no effect. Even when his strikes drew blood or bruised skin, Zanka didn't flinch. He moved through the pain as if it were a luxury, his momentum only increasing. During a heated exchange, Zanka threw a heavy hook with his entire body weight behind it. Seizing the opening, Zen tripped him, pivoting to the side. This is it, Zen thought, his heart hammering. Once he hits the dirt, I can finally create some distance.
But Zanka's reflexes were inhuman. Instead of bracing with his hands, he slammed his forehead into the ground to arrest his fall, snapping his body into a jagged 'N' shape. Using the momentum, he whipped his heel upward in a vicious arc, connecting squarely with the back of Zen's head. The sound of the impact was sickening—the unmistakable crack of bone.
The agony was so overwhelming that Zen's thoughts shattered. He stumbled back, his vision swimming in a red haze as blood gushed from his mouth. He couldn't even scream; he just gasped for air, his body failing him. Seeing Zen defenseless, Zanka coiled his muscles, loading up a final, gut-shattering punch to end it.
"Stop this fight! Right now!" Aiko screamed, sprinting toward Raizen. Her voice was raw with desperation. "I mean now, Raizen!"
Raizen let out a heavy, bored exhale. "Fine," he muttered, rising to his feet.
Before Zanka's fist could connect with Zen's ribs, Raizen materialized between them. He caught the punch effortlessly, the sheer force of the collision kicking up a gale of wind that whistled through the arena.
Zanka pulled back, his brow furrowing in a deep scowl. "What's the big idea?"
"That's enough," Raizen sighed, looking completely unbothered. "Look at him. You aren't 'losing' this fight. Zen started this match with a broken body; it's hardly a fair test of your goal. How about you let him heal up? Then you can have your rematch."
Zanka forcefully wrenched his hand out of Raizen's grip. "Or," he hissed, his eyes darting to the elite, "I could just fight you instead."
Raizen's grin returned, sharp and dangerous. "That would be fascinating. I'd be more than happy to give you the death you're looking for. But unfortunately, I can't. Rules are rules—we aren't allowed to cross blades with candidates. Besides, Ayumu specifically ordered that no Elite is to engage with you. You were there when he said it, right?"
Zanka's scowl deepened, but he didn't move. Raizen's smile suddenly vanished, replaced by a cold, flat stare. "Regardless... you went overboard."
Realizing the truth in Raizen's words, the manic energy seemed to drain out of Zanka. He calmed himself and walked toward Aiko, who was now desperately propping up Zen's limp, bleeding body.
"I went overboard," Zanka muttered, his face still set in a permanent frown. "My bad."
Aiko couldn't even bring herself to meet his terrifying gaze. "Just go," she spat, her voice trembling. "Get out of here!"
Zanka clenched his fists, turned on his heel, and began to walk away. As he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, he began to mutter to himself, "Stupid... stupid..." before violently punching himself in the face.
As Zanka vanished into the corridor, Aiko pulled Zen closer, her hands trembling as they became slick with his blood. "He's losing too much," she whispered to herself, her voice cracking.
Nearby, Raizen let out a casual whistle, acting as if there wasn't a dying boy at his feet. He turned to the lingering candidates with a dismissive wave. "Alright, everyone, you did well. Some people might be getting worried about me, so I'll be taking my leave."
He began to saunter off when Aiko's voice sliced through the air. "Hold it right there!"
Raizen stopped in his tracks, turning back with a slow, guilty expression. "Yeah?"
"What exactly do you plan on doing about this?" Aiko demanded, shifting Zen's limp, lifeless weight in her arms to show the severity of his wounds.
Raizen swallowed hard, his bravado flickering. "Look, there are plenty of medics around. Just hand him over to one of them."
Aiko's frown deepened into a look of pure fury. "Those doctors are for exam injuries, Not This, This is your fault. You engineered this mess, so you're going to fix it."
A bead of sweat rolled down Raizen's temple. "Please don't say—"
"Jiro," Aiko interrupted firmly.
Raizen let out a long, pained sigh. "Jiro only heals Elites and core party members. Besides, our base is way too far from here. Zen would probably bleed out before we even made it through the gates."
"Fine then," Aiko said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy calm. "I'll just call Ayumu. I'm sure he'll know exactly how to handle this. And while I'm at it, I'll be sure to mention exactly why Zen is in this condition. I'll tell him everything you did."
Raizen's eyes widened. He sighed again, defeated. "No need for all that. Fine. I'll take him to Jiro."
He stepped forward and took Zen's battered body from her arms, hoisting him up with unexpected care.