The ground of the arena suddenly trembled beneath everyone's feet, and the crash of a sword striking the center of the ring thundered like lightning tearing through silence. One second was all it took for chaos to erupt. The stone walls quivered, statues rattled on their pedestals, and the crowd began to scream, reaching for anything to steady themselves.
Some spectators fell, others stumbled. Akio lost his balance instantly, shouting:
"What's happening?! An earthquake?!"
He reached for something to grab but caught only air, nearly falling. Beside him, Ann lost her balance too, staggering with short steps, her hair whipping in the dust rising from the ground.
Then, before either could fall, two steady hands reached through the chaos. Ken grabbed Akio's arm firmly and, at the same time, caught Ann's wrist, pulling them both toward him with an unshakable steadiness, as if he were the only point of gravity in the place.
Ann, still unsteady, turned her head toward him. Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, she heard nothing but the pounding of her own heart and felt the calm, solid warmth of the hand that held hers. His skin was hot, the touch unexpectedly soft for a fighter like him. Heat spread through her fingers, and color flushed into her cheeks before she could control it. Her mind screamed to pull away, but she didn't.
Ken, however, showed no sign of noticing. He raised his gaze toward the fighter in the ring who had caused it all and said in a cold tone:
"Some people still don't know how to control their power."
He spoke as if the chaos were nothing but a minor nuisance… though his hands still hadn't let go.
Akio coughed hard, waving his hand in front of his face, irritation plain on his features.
"Damn you, man! You grabbed me with the hand with the cigarette! Are you trying to choke me?!"
Ken released him quietly, as if he hadn't heard a word, then returned the cigarette to his lips. He exhaled smoke slowly, his eyes fixed on the ring that was still filled with dust and shouting, not even bothering to look at Akio.
Ann, on the other hand, was still on the ground, motionless. Her eyes half-closed, her face frozen in a mix of confusion and fascination. She stared at her hand, still tingling with leftover warmth, then looked up at Ken, standing before her with his head slightly tilted, his cold features glowing faintly beneath the flickering light.
In that moment, she couldn't hear the audience, nor see the dust or blood. It was as if she had been pulled into another world. A silent one… where only that single moment existed.
'His hand… it was so warm…'
A faint, unconscious smile curved her lips before she whispered softly to herself:
"My God… I'm completely doomed."
Ann stood up slowly. Dust still swirled in the air, the crowd's noise fading into a distant echo. Ahead of her, Ken took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling it just as calmly. The smoke caught the sunlight filtering through the clouds of dust, forming a gray halo around him, as if the world had paused to crown him in silent majesty.
She watched him without blinking, her expression a mix of awe and quiet captivation, as though she was seeing something deeper than just a boy smoking… something that resembled sorrow wrapped in indifference.
'He looks… like he doesn't belong to this world.'
She thought this as she lifted her gaze toward him again. Ken turned his head slightly, with a fleeting glance brief, but enough to make her heart leap once more without warning.
Ann's eyes were still on him when the scene behind him suddenly shifted. Medics rushed past, pushing a stretcher at full speed, on it lay Kravos's frail body, his head bandaged, the fabric stained with blood. He wasn't moving.
Ann's eyelid twitched. The image stuck in her mind, she quickly looked away, and muttered under her breath:
"I overdid it… maybe he didn't deserve that."
But she forced herself to shut the thought down.
'No… he chose to fight. If I hadn't done it, he would have.'
She tried, as always, to convince herself that it was fine to be cruel sometimes. But that other part of her whispered inside:
'He was only singing… maybe he wasn't even fighting.'
Ann sighed and turned her face aside, hiding her unease behind a faint with a fake smile.
She murmured quietly:
"Damn you, Kravos… even unconscious, you make me feel guilty."
Time passed. Fights continued one after another until the audience lost track of how long they'd been there. Ann sat in uncharacteristic silence, no longer following the matches as before, trapped instead in the storm of her own thoughts.
She stared blankly at the ring, wondering to herself:
'Is Mabushi okay now… or is he's still caught between life and death?'
She tried to shake off the thought, but couldn't. Every time she remembered his screams, the noise in her head grew louder.
Akio, meanwhile, was the complete opposite, sitting on the edge of his seat like a child waiting for playtime. A wide grin lit his face as he thought excitedly,
"My turn's coming soon. I'll show them what I can do!"
At that moment, the atmosphere shifted violently. A sharp metallic sound rang through the arena, followed by the echo of steel colliding, and then, a heavy silence. One brief second… before blood burst through the air.
Every gaze froze on the ring. There stood a tall fighter, his sword dripping with blood, while his opponent's head rolled slowly to the ground before splitting in two. The arena remained silent for a few seconds before whispers and confusion spread among the rows.
Even Akio, who had been laughing moments earlier, went rigid, staring blankly at the scene. Ann gasped softly without realizing it, her chest tightening.
The director raised his hand, his voice booming over the murmurs:
"The Winner is… Rindo Rhine!"
A few scattered cheers rose from the crowd, some clapping nervously, others staying silent, as if their minds hadn't processed yet what they'd just seen. Rindo Rhine stood amidst the blood, his face void of expression, as though he hadn't just killed someone. His sword still dripped slowly, as if unwilling to stop.
In the front rows, Ken stood watching and spoke in his calm tone:
"Someone's dream… just ended."
Akio turned to him quickly, his eyebrows raised in mild disbelief.
"Hey, don't say it like that, man! Someone just got killed!"
Ken turned his head slowly, casting him a sideways glance… the kind you give a child who doesn't yet understand the world. Then he replied, his tone was flat and unshaken:
"If he wasn't ready to die, he shouldn't have stepped into the ring."
Akio froze, biting his lower lip, unable to respond. Ken continued, his eyes returning to the bloodstained arena:
"The only place dreams are allowed… is before the fight, not after it."
The director looked up toward the crowd and announced in a deep, commanding voice:
"Only ten papers remain in the box… which means the first trial is nearing its end."
A murmur spread through the spectators… part excitement, part unease. The director reached into the box slowly, moving his fingers among the few remaining papers before pulling one out. He unfolded it and read clearly:
"Ryusei… the Star Reaper."
An eerie silence filled the air. The name itself carried an unseen weight. Eyes shifted across the rows, searching for its owner. From the back rows, a young man stepped forward.
He was calm and confident. He appeared to be in his early twenties. His hair was bright red like fire, he stood upright in sharp strands. His green eyes gleamed with a strange light, reminiscent of meteors streaking through the night. A deep scar ran from his right brow down to the middle of his cheek, adding both harshness and mystery to his features.
He wore a long black coat, its edges torn, the collar dark red, and on his shoulders rested two metallic pauldrons coated in a dull, coal-like hue. The lower half of his face was hidden behind a black mask that concealed his jaw and mouth.
When he stepped into the center of the ring, the sunlight caught him, making him look as though he had walked out of another world. His gaze was calm, not with human stillness, but with the kind that comes before a storm.
Ken watched him quietly, smoke is fading between his fingers.
"That man… I've heard of him before. They say he's one of the strongest samurai from the Empire of Zitara."
Akio turned to him, his eyes gleaming with excitement:
"Really?! From Zitara? I'm from there too! But… I've never heard his name before."
Ken replied without lifting his gaze:
"Maybe that's because people like him don't live under the light."
Akio wiped the sweat from his forehead, his tone came uneasy:
"I wonder… who's the unlucky one that will fight him?"
The answer came almost immediately. The director reached into the box again, shuffled the remaining papers, then pulled one out and declared loudly:
"Sakamoto… Akio!"
A brief silence swept through the front rows. Akio's eyes widened slowly, as if the name just spoken couldn't possibly be his. He pointed at himself hesitantly, then turned toward Ken and Ann, and stammering in disbelief:
"T-that's… me!"
Ken raised his eyes slightly. Ann looked at him too, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. Akio's name still echoed through the arena as his heart began to pound. Not from fear… but from the beginning of something unknown.