The gates were still rising when Raizen moved.
He ducked under the half-open bar, boots hitting concrete, and sprinted straight for the left lane - tight corners, low ceilings, bad visibility. The kind of place where speed, angles and reflex won fights.
Behind him, the crowd was still screaming. The host was still talking. None of it mattered.
This was the part he understood. This is the place where he could finally shine.
The first Shade waited just past an entrance, pressed into a patch of shadow like it thought it was clever.
Thin arms. Wobbly joints. Head tilted too far to one side.
Raizen didn't even slow down.
His right blade came up in a short, neat cut. The Nyx's neck parted, leaving black smoke behind. Before the body even dropped, he had already stepped past, turning.
Two more Shades peeled off the ceiling on either side.
Rust Room, he thought.
He moved like he was back there.
Pivot off the foot. Weight low. Elbows tight.
