TEN SECONDS BEFORE DEPARTURE. The silence in the Dome is crushing, heavy with the electricity of sixty thousand stares. Thirty-two future heroes are on the line, facing the smoldering field of ruins. Pinky clenches her fists so hard her knuckles turn white. Measure up. Show him. She imagines her father's gaze, behind his raven mask, somewhere in the VIP darkness. To her left, Kotobe breathes deeply, eyes closed, visualizing force diagrams. To her right, One casually stretches his arms, an almost bored look on his face. And in front, Grann, motionless and smiling, radiates a chilling certainty.
FIVE... FOUR... Captain Man's voice booms, hammering the golden rule: "A hero who panics signs the death warrant of others. Your calm is their oxygen."
THREE... TWO... Pinky locks eyes with Grann. A silent challenge. He ignores her, his blue pupils already scanning and categorizing the battlefield.
ONE... BRRROOOOMMMM! The siren tears through the air. The giant clock flips: 10:00. GO!
Chaos erupts. A rush of bodies scatters into the labyrinth of concrete and sheet metal.
———
Pinky doesn't think, she acts. She throws herself onto the first pile of rubble, where a mannequin's hand emerges. She grabs a steel girder, pulls with all her might. Nothing moves. Sweat beads.
— Come on, damn it! she spits, frustration rising.
A snicker behind her. Viper speeds past.
— Waste of time, kid. That beam is anchored. You'd be better off sticking to fashion magazines.
He disappears before she can retort, the sting of humiliation in her gut. Calm down. Think. She scans the area, spots a torn ventilation duct. Inside, movement. Perfect. She dives in, agile, and extracts a mannequin. +1 POINT. A fleeting smile. She spots another, stuck under a grate. She gets on her knees, starts to pull.
——
Meanwhile, Kotobe hasn't moved from the starting line for the first ten seconds. His eyes analyze the scene like a mad architect. He sees pressure points, weak spots, precarious balances. He ignores the loudest cries and heads toward a sheet metal awning swaying dangerously. Under it, a child-mannequin. But his gaze is fixed on the rusty hinge and the cracked wall behind it. The collapse will come from there. He finds an I-beam, drags it, braces it against the wall. Stabilized. Only then does he free the child-mannequin. +1 POINT. Methodical. Precise.
———
One, on the other hand, wanders on the periphery, far from the commotion. He stops near an overturned van, silent. Others ignored it. He places a hand on its cold side, closes his eyes. Two masses inside. The door is twisted. He places his hands on either side of the dent, inhales. Absolute concentration. The metal groans, gives way. He slips inside, emerges with two mannequins. +2 POINTS. He sets them down carefully. His gaze sweeps the arena, peaceful, lingering a micro-second on Pinky struggling farther away.
———
Grann is a machine. He calculated the optimal path in three seconds. He ignores simple pockets, targets a collapsed stairwell, a complex, high-yield zone. His hands, precise and cold, disassemble the chaos cornerstone by cornerstone. In less than two minutes, three mannequins are freed. +3 POINTS. His score silently explodes to the top of the virtual leaderboard only he can see.
———
— ALERT! SIMULATED TREMOR IN T-30! thunders Captain Man.
Panic grips some candidates. Pinky has just freed a second mannequin. +1 POINT. She hears the countdown, rushes toward a third, visible under a twisted road sign.
3… 2… 1…
The ground shakes violently. A low RUMBLE. A false wall collapses farther away, near where Mika, the timid one, had entered a narrow crawlspace. A cloud of white dust engulfs the area. When it dissipates, the crawlspace is partially blocked. Only Mika's boots are visible, twitching in frantic jerks.
The clock shows 06:12. The announcer, voice tense: "A candidate in real trouble! The clock continues!"
The choice presents itself, brutal. Grann, twenty meters away, looks up, calculates: « No benefit in saving her. On the contrary, I risk losing time. She only has to stay there; someone else will help her. »
Pinky sees the boots. She sees Grann turning his back. Anger burns in her veins. He's going to leave her there? Her mother's face comes back to her. She throws down her mannequin, charges toward the crawlspace.
— Forget it! yells Rex. It's every man for himself!
— Shut up! she snarls at him.
She grabs Mika's boots, starts to pull. Kotobe staggers over.
— No! The structure is unstable! You have to lift from the side!
— Are you helping or commenting?! Pinky roars, fear in her voice.
Pinky pulls, muscles on fire. She doesn't see, above her, a massive concrete block hanging from a net of cables that, weakened by the tremor, has just slipped a notch. The block sways, threatens to break free. It weighs several hundred simulated kilos. A fall would mean a "serious injury" and elimination from the event.
One, who had just placed another mannequin in safety, looks up. He sees the block. He sees Pinky, focused, vulnerable. He doesn't think. His body moves before his consciousness formulates a thought.
There is no spectacular dash. There is a displacement. A blur in the air.
Pinky feels a firm but gentle hand grab her by the harness of her gear. The world around her becomes a mix of stretched colors and sudden wind. The ground disappears under her feet. The next instant, she is in the air, held balanced in One's strong arms.
She has time to see, below, the concrete block crash exactly where she was kneeling a second ago, with a low BOOM and a cloud of dust.
But they don't fall. One, holding her with one arm, seems to walk. His feet find purchase on invisible footholds, as if climbing a ghost staircase vertically. Two, three, four aerial steps, quick and sure, taking them away from the collapse zone. Pinky, stunned, sees the battlefield scroll by from a new angle, suspended between sky and earth.
Then, with the same disconcerting fluidity, One descends. His invisible steps become longer, as if sliding down a ramp. He lands without a sound on a stable concrete slab, ten meters away, and sets Pinky gently on her feet, like a precious object.
It all took less than five seconds.
Pinky staggers, vertigo hitting her afterward. She stares at One, mouth agape. He doesn't seem winded. He simply nods, his peaceful gaze resting on her.
— Debris, he says simply, as if explaining the weather.
Then he turns on his heel and walks away, returning to his quiet, ant-like work, leaving Pinky rooted to the spot, her heart pounding wildly for a completely new reason.
The crowd, which had held its breath, explodes into a deafening ovation. The announcer screams into her mic:
— A SPECTACULAR RESCUE! ONE JUST SAVED PINKY FROM CERTAIN CRUSHING! TELEPORTATION? LEVITATION? WE DON'T KNOW, BUT IT'S SHEER GENIUS!
Kotobe, left near the crawlspace, saw it all. His analytical brain is overheating. Instant reaction speed. 360-degree perception. Apparent defiance of physics. "Debris." He files the information away in a corner of his mind, labeled: "One - Phenomenon. Threat Level: Incalculable. Reliability Level: Unknown."
He pulls himself together, turns back to the crawlspace. With the help of Axel, who passed by drawn by the spectacle, they finally free Mika, trembling but safe. 0 POINTS for that rescue, but the crowd cheers them like winners.
———
The clock reads 04:58. Pinky is in shock, but more determined than ever. One saved her life. She owes it to him not to give up. She joins Kotobe, their alliance forged in fire. One, as if by chance, ends up working in their sector.
— Group strategy, says Kotobe, resuming his role as tactician. Clearing overlooked pockets. Speed. Efficiency.
They form an unlikely but formidably effective trio. Pinky, the agile scout. Kotobe, the chaos engineer. One, the strike force and unpredictable safeguard. They scour the battlefield, gathering isolated mannequins. +1… +1… +2… Their scores climb in tandem.
Meanwhile, Grann accomplishes the unthinkable. As the "CRITICAL OVERHEAT - SECTOR 7" alert sounds, creating a red, off-limits zone, he calculates the risk, and takes it. He crosses the field of deadly sensors with drone-like precision, extracts three mannequins, and returns without a virtual scratch. +3 POINTS. The performance is so perfect it's chilling. He cements his dominance.
LAST MINUTE. Pinky spots a final mannequin under a tangle of cables. The trio intervenes, defuses the situation. She extracts it.
00:03… 00:02… 00:01… BRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOMMMMM!
Silence. The event is over.
——
1. GRANN — 445 POINTS
2. AXEL — 251 POINTS
3. VIPER — 224 POINTS
...
4. PINKY — 121 POINTS
5. ONE — 110 POINTS
6. KOTOBE — 105 POINTS
She's not in the top 10. But a new flame burns within her. She was saved. She held strong. She teamed up. She lifts her head, searches for One. He is already stretching, indifferent to the cheers rising for his feat. Their eyes meet. He simply nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Debris. That was all. Then he turns away. Pinky smiles, a real smile, incredulous and grateful.
But there's no time for sentiment. The announcer returns, vibrant, and her voice covers the arena's buzz.
— WHAT A SPECTACLE! Composure, madness, and a rescue that will go down in history! But don't relax, ladies and gentlemen! Because the hour of TRUTH has sounded! The event that separates rescuers from warriors... THE COMBATS!
A virtual drumroll hammers from the speakers. The giant screen fragments, the names of the thirty-two candidates dance in a frantic digital lottery before SNAPPING into pairs with a deafening metallic CLANG!
THE FIRST ROUND MATCH-UPS
Pinky's heart stops beating. Her name flashes, sparkles, and crashes against her opponent's.
PINKY vs VIPER
The shock is physical. Viper. The bounty hunter with reptilian eyes. The one who mocked her. The one who sees her as an easy golden ticket. A pure, crystalline rage sweeps away her fatigue. Perfect.
Her gaze lifts, crosses the dusty arena. Viper is already staring at her. He slowly runs the tip of his tongue over his lips, a calculated, wet gesture, then gives her a little wave, fingers spread, as if counting a wad of bills. His message is clear: You're my bounty. And I'm going to collect you.
The other duels display amidst growing clamor.
KOTOBE vs DANTE
The analyst versus the jaded scion of a dynasty. Kotobe pales slightly. Dante, for his part, rolls his eyes with a theatrical sigh, as if being imposed a chore.
ONE vs BRICK
The unpredictable silent one against the gentle protective giant. One looks at Brick, who gives him a friendly little wave with his massive hand. One nods, serious. A battle of pure strength in prospect.
GRANN vs REX
Perfection versus bravado. The screen explodes with light on this duel. Grann, impassive, hasn't even deigned to look. Rex, however, beats his bare chest and roars toward the stands, provoking a monstrous uproar. "FOR GOLD AND GLORY!"
The announcer yells to cover the noise:
— HERE THEY ARE! THE DUELS THAT WILL SET THE DOME AFLAME! In FIVE minutes, the first match will begin! Preparations authorized!
The tension rises to a palpable new level. The air becomes sharp.
Pinky finally straightens up. She no longer looks at the board. She only looks at Viper. She feels the weight of her father's gaze, somewhere in the shadows. She feels the memory of One's arm, pulling her from the void. She feels the determination forged with Kotobe.
Kotobe approaches her, his asymmetrical face grave.
— Viper. Style: opportunist. He looks for blind spots, exploits mistakes. He won't smash you head-on. He'll try to frustrate you, make you make a mistake. Don't fall for his game. Be clean. Be fast.
— He said I was a waste of time, Pinky says, her voice low but clear. I'm going to show him how wrong he is.
One passes near them, heading for the locker rooms. He stops for a second, looks at Pinky.
— You want a sandwich, he says, like a promise. Win first.
Pinky doesn't know why, but those simple words make her smile. She nods.
She turns her back on Viper, on Grann, on the roaring crowd. She walks toward the arena exit, back straight, fists clenched but mind clear for the first time.
Speeches were just hot air. The rescue was training. Now, it's the real war. The first step toward her mother. The first blow struck against her father's shadow.
The rescue event is over. But in the dark corridors of the Dome, as the crowd's roar announces the coming combats, another alliance has just been born. And Pinky, for the first time, no longer feels alone facing her mother's shadow. She has allies. And a debt to honor.
The real tournament begins now.