The crowd shifted as the next match was announced.
"Cruciverum — Beast."
"Zenithellion — Yami."
A pause.
Whispers rippled outward.
Yami did not step forward.
Instead, a tall figure descended into the arena — composed, distant.
Itsuki.
The announcer faltered.
"Fighter replacement confirmed. Zenithellion — Itsuki."
The murmuring intensified.
Beast rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
Massive. Broad. Veins like coiled rope beneath his skin.
"You don't look like a warrior," Beast said, grinning.
"You look like someone who lost something."
Itsuki didn't respond.
His eyes scanned the stands.
Inner rings.
Mid tiers.
Outer seats.
Nothing.
The horn sounded.
Beast moved first.
He didn't run.
He launched.
The ground cratered beneath his step as he crossed half the arena in a single bound. His fist didn't aim for Itsuki's face.
It struck the air in front of him.
The shockwave tore outward like a cannon blast.
Stone lifted. Sand shredded.
Itsuki phased.
The shockwave passed through him — but the arena behind him detonated.
Beast narrowed his eyes.
"So you're smoke."
The sky above darkened as Beast drew Viora violently into his core. His body expanded, muscles stretching unnaturally.
He slammed both fists into the ground.
The arena fractured.
Pillars of stone erupted upward in a ring, trapping Itsuki mid-field.
Then fire rained down — compressed spheres of burning Viora slamming into the cage.
Explosions chained together.
The crowd screamed.
When the smoke cleared—
Itsuki stood untouched.
But this time he was breathing harder.
Beast noticed.
"Not invincible," he muttered.
He charged again — but changed rhythm mid-stride. A feint. Then a sudden upward swing.
The punch connected.
Not fully — but enough.
Itsuki's body flickered violently as he was hurled across the arena, skidding through stone.
Blood marked the sand.
The crowd gasped.
Phasing had limits.
Beast didn't give him space.
He grabbed a broken pillar and hurled it like a spear.
Itsuki phased — but delayed by a fraction.
The pillar grazed his shoulder.
Another line of red.
Itsuki steadied himself.
His eyes lifted to the stands again.
Still nothing.
For a moment—
He hesitated.
Beast appeared in front of him.
The punch landed clean.
The entire arena shook.
Itsuki crashed through two containment layers before stopping.
Silence.
Beast exhaled slowly.
"Fight me," he growled. "Or leave."
Itsuki stood.
Blood ran from his lip.
For the first time, he looked at Beast.
Not past him.
At him.
The air around Itsuki shifted.
No grand flare of power.
Just compression.
He stepped forward—
And vanished.
Not phased.
Gone.
Beast's eyes widened.
Itsuki reappeared inside Beast's guard — palm already buried against his sternum.
Viora condensed into a needlepoint.
Release.
The impact didn't explode outward.
It imploded inward.
Beast's body lifted off the ground — breath torn from his lungs — before slamming into the arena wall.
The seals flared violently.
Cracks spidered across the barrier.
Beast tried to stand.
His legs failed.
Itsuki walked forward slowly.
Beast laughed through blood.
"There you are."
Itsuki stopped inches away.
His fist rose—
Then paused.
For half a heartbeat, his gaze drifted to the stands again.
Nothing.
The distraction cost him.
Beast surged upward in one final desperate swing—
Itsuki twisted aside and struck once more.
This time clean.
Beast fell.
The horn blared.
"WINNER — ZENITHELLION!"
The crowd erupted.
But Itsuki didn't celebrate.
He looked up one final time.
Still nothing.
And that absence weighed more than the battle.
Haru vs Aika
The next match began before the arena could fully settle.
Haru entered calmly.
Aika walked in with fire in her eyes.
The horn sounded.
They moved instantly.
Steel shrieked against steel.
Aika attacked first — aggressive, fast, relentless. Her strikes forced Haru backward across the sand.
Haru defended with minimal movement, redirecting rather than blocking.
Aika pressed harder.
A flurry of six consecutive strikes.
Haru slipped inside the seventh.
Aika adapted mid-combo and pivoted low — slicing across Haru's thigh.
First blood.
The crowd roared.
Haru's expression didn't change.
She stepped forward.
Now it was her tempo.
Precise.
Efficient.
No wasted motion.
Aika tried to overwhelm her again — but this time Haru read the rhythm completely.
Parry.
Step.
Turn.
The flat of her blade struck Aika's wrist.
Weapon dropped.
Aika attempted a bare-handed follow-up—
Haru's blade stopped at her throat.
Silence.
Aika dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
"…You're stronger," she admitted, smiling through exhaustion.
Haru lowered her blade.
The horn sounded.
"VICTORY — ZENITHELLION."
The crowd cheered.
But above the noise—
somewhere in the higher tiers—
a pair of eyes had finally stopped watching the arena…
and started watching Itsuki.