The stadium still hummed from the last match — cheers, bright lights, and the faint metallic smell of sweat and adrenaline. Leo and Chen Wei sat near the audience stands, letting the noise wash over them like a tide. Victory was a warm thing, but it didn't quiet the edge inside Leo.
Leo (thinking): Keep moving. Every win is a step — but there's something bigger coming. I can feel it.
Suddenly the atmosphere shifted. A ripple ran through the crowd like a low note from a distant bell. People looked up; cameras pivoted. From high above, a figure dropped down into the center of the arena.
He wore a filthy coat that trailed like smoke. Dust and grime clung to him, and something about his calm, effortless fall made the air itself seem to hold its breath. When he landed, the concrete cracked.
Crowd (murmuring): "Who—?" "What was that!?"
Leo froze mid-breath. Every muscle locked. He could not move.
Chen Wei: "Leo! Hey — are you okay? Move!"
(Chen Wei's voice blurred with concern. Leo didn't answer.)
The man in the coat laughed — a slow, brutal sound that crawled over the stands like oil. He lifted his chin and looked around the arena as if inspecting a ruined city.
Kaito Jin: "So this is the great gathering of martial artists. Pathetic. All of you — how small, how worthless."
(He spat the words like venom.)
He stepped forward. Wherever his shadow fell, faint black smoke seeped from the floor. A low hum of energy pulsed outward, like a magnet reversing itself. Several fighters near the ring staggered, clutching at their chests as if something stole the warmth from them.
Kaito Jin (smirking): "You think strength comes from training? From sweat? Cute. Watch how it actually ends."
He extended one hand slowly toward the nearest combatant. A column of black energy flowed from his palm — not flames, not solid — but a sucking dark that latched onto the fighter's aura and began to draw it in. Light in that fighter's eyes dimmed; the aura collapsed like a candle in wind.
Announcer (panicked): "Security! Someone — get him—!"
But Kaito Jin moved through the arena with the patience of a predator. Each time the black pull touched someone, it siphoned their best power, devouring it with a soft, obscene sound. Those stripped of their power slumped to the floor like dolls with cut strings.
Leo (thinking, voice thin): No. Not again. Not like when—
(The memory of his father's death slammed into him, sharp and bitter.)
Kaito Jin's smile grew wider, crueler. He laughed until the sound rang like broken glass.
Kaito Jin: "This whole tournament is a joke. You parade your little strengths and call it glory. I could finish every one of you in minutes. But I don't have time for dogs."
He looked directly toward the stands where Leo sat, and in that instant he was suddenly there — not walking, not running — simply standing a hair's breadth from Leo, so close that the heat of his presence burned.
Kaito Jin (whisper): "You. The child who plays at power. You learned one percent and you think that'll cut it?"
Leo could not move. His limbs refused him as if frozen from the inside.
Chen Wei (furious): "Who are you? Get away from him!"
Kaito Jin's expression turned lazy, as if swatting an insect.
Kaito Jin: "You broke the Dragon Seal, remember? I'm Kaito Jin. I've come to remind this world of what true power looks like."
He raised his hand, and the black energy surged outward like a storm. It licked at the fighters on the ring's edge, and every bright force, every brilliant aura they had, dimmed. Kaito Jin took it in, inhaled it as if savoring a meal, and folded those energies into his own being. With each absorption, his clothes and skin seemed to darken, while his grin widened further.
Crowd (screaming): "Get him out! Security—"
But the security lines recoiled, their own strength sapped the moment they tried to grab him. The huge screens that broadcast the arena flickered as though a shadow passed between the signal and the light.
Kaito Jin lifted his head and addressed the entire stadium in a voice that shivered the bones.
Kaito Jin: "You are nothing. Even if I had to step through every one of your champions, I would do it. I have no time for weaklings who call themselves fighters. If you want the final tournament, you will have to crawl through flames and corpses to get there."
Then, with a contemptuous snort, he vanished — not running, not teleporting in any graceful sense — he simply blinked out of existence from the center of the arena and reappeared inches from Leo's face before anyone could register the movement. The smell of iron and old smoke filled Leo's nostrils.
Kaito Jin (soft, close): "You've mastered one percent and celebrate it. How cute. That is laughable to me. You are nowhere near enough."
He straightened and turned away as if bored, then spoke one last sentence — a roar wrapped in velvet.
Kaito Jin: "Train until your bones break. I'll still be waiting."
With that, he vanished again in a ripple of black light — and when the ripple cleared, he was gone. The arena was left with ragged breaths, fallen fighters, and a silence that tasted like fear.
Leo finally lurched to his feet, knees shaky. Chen Wei grabbed him, voice trembling with anger and panic.
Chen Wei: "Leo — are you okay? You didn't even move when he—"
Leo (voice raw): "I… I remember him. I remember what he did."
(A memory of the day his father died — the sudden strike, the impossible speed — slammed into him again.)
The announcer's voice, small and shaky, tried to regain control.
Announcer: "Ladies and gentlemen… please remain calm. Security teams are attempting to—"
But the arena felt different now. The tournament's bright mask had been ripped away. Kaito Jin had shown them a darkness that drank power — and he had looked at Leo like he was a curiosity, a plaything.
Leo (thinking): One percent… is not enough. Not even close. He said train until my bones break. I will. I have to.
The crowd's murmurs grew into a low, dangerous roar. Lights flashed. Fighters pulled themselves up from the floor, some bleeding, some weeping, all shaken. Kaito Jin's seed of dread had been planted.