The silence in the Dome was a living beast, holding its breath. Sixty thousand pairs of eyes were riveted on the two swaying figures at the center of the arena.
Viper was getting to his feet, each movement a struggle. His armor was cracked where the "Pink Impact" had struck, his breathing wheezing. Blood streamed from his split lip and a gash on his forehead. But his eyes, bloodshot, burned with a new determination, stripped of all arrogance.
Pinky, on the other side, was exhausted to the marrow. Her Ether was nearly depleted, her right leg buckled under her, and her right arm throbbed painfully with each heartbeat. But she held her ground, fists clenched, her pink gaze never leaving his.
"You..." Viper spat out a piece of tooth. "...you got me. Well played."
It wasn't a condescending compliment. It was an acknowledgment, rough, torn from his assassin's pride.
Pinky nodded, unable to speak, concentrating every shred of energy on staying upright.
"But this tournament..." He took a painful breath. "...it's not over with one good shot."
He spread his arms, the broken daggers falling from his hands. They were no longer needed. His green Ether, darker, more viscous, began seeping from his pores, forming concentrated poison gauntlets around his fists.
"That was my attack. Now... my last defense."
Pinky understood. He wasn't going to attack anymore. He was going to turn himself into a no-go zone. To touch him was to lose.
She plunged her gaze inward. She had... so little left. Just enough for one portal. One single portal.
A portal... for what?
Her eyes scanned the arena. The silent crowd. The spotlights. The metallic floor.
And suddenly, she knew.
She wouldn't hit him.
She would hit what he was.
Her hands rose for the last time. The motion was slow, laborious, but surgically precise. She didn't trace a circle in front of her. She traced a circle... around Viper.
Not a passage portal. An exclusion portal.
A perfect pink ring, three meters wide, opened vertically, encircling Viper. Then it closed in on itself, creating a sphere of spatial distortion.
Inside, the air grew thick, heavy. Gravity twisted slightly. Viper's green Ether, instead of spreading, compressed onto him, smothering him in his own defense.
"What the...?!" He raised his arms, fighting against the spatial pressure.
Pinky, drained, collapsed to one knee. That was all she could do. The trap was set. But she had no strength left to spring it.
The pink sphere wavered. It held on by the strength of her pure will, but that was fading.
Viper, understanding, gathered all he had left. With a raw roar, he exploded forward, his poisoned fists shattering the failing wall of the distorted sphere.
He shot out like a cannonball, straight at Pinky, who was unable to dodge.
The final blow.
The green fist met Pinky's desperate guard.
CRACK.
The sound of breaking bone was sharp.
Pinky was thrown backward, landing heavily on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Agonizing pain shot through her left arm. Broken. She knew it instantly.
She didn't move.
Viper remained standing over her, his whole body trembling, his fist still smoking. He looked at her, eyes wide, then raised his gaze to the referee.
The android approached, analyzed the motionless Pinky, conscious but unable to get up, her arm at a monstrous angle.
— K.O.! WINNER: VIPER!
The decision fell.
But the miracle was the crowd's reaction.
Not a victory cry for Viper.
Silence, first. Then, as one, the stands rose.
And chanted, with a voice that made the Dome tremble:
"PIN-KY! PIN-KY! PIN-KY!"
It was deafening. Vibrant. Real. They were cheering the loser. The warrior. The girl who had stood up to an experienced assassin with nothing but her wits and courage. Who had turned a power of "escape" into a tactical weapon. Who had given them a fight they would remember.
Viper looked around, his face twisted by surprise, then by something more complex. The arrogance had been pulverized, leaving behind a weary respect. He looked down at Pinky.
"You deserve your place here," he murmured, so softly only the hypersensitive mics caught it. "Sorry about the arm."
Medical staff swarmed in. Viper stepped back to let them pass, his gaze following the stretcher as Pinky, pale but with open eyes, was carefully lifted. She passed close to him. Their eyes met.
She managed a slight movement of her lips. Thank you.
He nodded, once.
———
IN THE STANDS
One stood up abruptly from his seat, a hand on his stomach.
"Ahhh, those skewers weren't fresh," he grumbled to Kotobe, before heading briskly toward the nearest restroom, missing the end of the ovation.
Grann, a few rows higher, observed the scene, impassive. A slight furrow appeared between his perfect eyebrows.
"Interesting," he murmured to himself. "At Myers Academy, she opened portals to hide her forgotten notebooks. Now, she uses them to trap assassins. Pressure forges diamonds… or shatters glass."
———
DOME INFIRMARY
The room smelled of antiseptic. Pinky lay on a bed, her left arm immobilized in a regenerative splint, a bio-luminescent patch on her shoulder. The pain had become a dull roar, muffled by painkillers. The pride, however, was intact. She had lost, but she had fought. Really fought.
The door opened silently.
Grann entered. He didn't have a flower in hand, not a stereotypical word of comfort. He stopped at the foot of the bed, considering her with his usual assessment.
"The fracture will heal in two days with the splint," he said, as if commenting on the weather. "Your Ether depletion is more concerning. You drained your gauge to 98%. Reckless."
Pinky stared at him, too tired to be impressed. "I did what I could."
"Yes." He paused. "You've changed. At Myers, you hid. Literally. In closets, behind dimensional portals to escape combat classes. Now..." He indicated her arm with a nod of his chin. "...you hide behind your blows."
It was an observation, not a criticism. Perhaps even a twisted compliment.
"Why are you here, Grann?" she asked, exhausted.
"To observe the evolution of a parameter. And to make a proposal."
Before he could continue, the door burst open.
Viper stood on the threshold, still in his dirty, torn combat gear, his battered face barely cleaned. He looked uncomfortable, moving like a caged predator.
He looked at Grann, then at Pinky, then fixed a point on the wall.
"I..." He cleared his throat. "The win was technical. You put me down first. The crowd..." He made a vague gesture toward the door, toward the distant noise that still sometimes chanted her name. "...they're right. You deserve more than a loss by injury."
He finally looked up at her. "Sorry. For the arm. And... for before. The 'princess' stuff, all that. It was bullshit."
Pinky was too surprised to reply. She simply nodded, accepting.
Viper gave Grann one last look, a mix of defiance and curiosity, then turned on his heel and left as abruptly as he had entered.
Silence returned.
"My proposal," Grann resumed, as if the interruption had never happened. "I advance to the next round. You will be eliminated, but under medical review, you could be reinstated if another candidate gets injured or withdraws. In the meantime, you stagnate. Your portals are interesting, but disorderly. You lack principles."
He leaned in slightly, his icy blue eyes catching the light.
"My training sessions are private. My method is... rigorous. It involves understanding Sublimation not as a power, but as a language for speaking to reality. You would learn to speak to space, not just give it crude orders."
He straightened up.
"Not out of pity. Out of interest. A new type of spatial manipulation could prove useful. Answer me tomorrow."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room, leaving Pinky alone with the hum of machines and the echo of his words.
Train with him? With Grann. The idea was crazy. Terrifying. Fascinating.
———
In the luxurious candidate restrooms, One was sitting in a stall, calmly reading the inscriptions on the door. His stomach was feeling better. He had heard the ovations, vaguely. Pinky had fought well. He'd have to tell her. Later. When he was done here.
——
The room was bathed in a bluish gloom. The man in the crow mask, Pinky's father, looked out the window without seeing the empty arena.
He activated a discreet communicator.
"Nagato."
The response was immediate, the neutral voice of his bodyguard filtering through the device. "Sir."
"Observe the reactions. The cheers for my daughter. Grann's interest. Viper's newfound humility."
A cold smile stretched his lips beneath the mask.
"Everything is proceeding as planned. The seed is planted. Now, let's water it and watch what poisonous flower blooms."
He cut the communication.
His eyes, invisible in the shadows, gleamed with dark satisfaction.
The game was in motion. And Pinky, unknowingly, had just become the centerpiece.