[Zagan POV]
"Make sure you win, okay? You'll compete against the winners of Group 4, and I heard they're the strongest group this year."
Amari's voice carried a firmness that made me straighten my back, even though she was perched casually on the bed with her legs swinging. She always had that effect on me: one word of encouragement mixed with worry, and suddenly the weight of the fight ahead pressed down harder than the armor strapped around my shoulders.
"Babe, I'm sure Group 1 is the strongest," I replied, though my voice sounded more like I was trying to convince myself. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, noting the slight frown tugging her lips.
"No, Kitsuna isn't that strong." Amari folded her arms, her tone carrying that stubborn conviction she always wielded when she thought I was being naive. "This person who signed up late is apparently level 800. And that's the level he gave—it might even be higher."
The casual way she said it made the blood drain from my face. Level 800? That wasn't a number; that was a natural disaster disguised as a kid.
"And he's under sixteen?" I raised a brow, hoping she was exaggerating.
"Well, you can't join the tournament if you aren't an idiot," Amari said dryly, bonking her head lightly with her fist as if to show how dumb people could be.
"Right," I muttered, exhaling slowly. "But there's always a way to go around the rule."
Amari sighed at me, the sound soft but laced with exasperation. "I suppose there is. But Kayda will know if he's lying about his age. Forget about other things and focus on the fight ahead." She waved her hand dismissively, as if my spiraling thoughts could be swatted away like a fly.
"Alright then," I said, forcing a grin as I stretched my arms, the anticipation buzzing through me like static. "Let's get this done."
The door creaked open without a knock, and a familiar voice rang out. "Yo, Zagan, are you ready?"
I turned just in time to see Kitsuna stride in, her tails swishing behind her like banners of living frost, two short swords glinting in her hands.
"Don't you know how to knock, sister?" Amari pouted, her arms crossing even tighter.
"Yes, I understand, but this situation doesn't require it," Kitsuna replied matter-of-factly, laying the swords down on the table with a soft clink.
Amari raised a brow. "Sigh, what are you here for anyway?"
"Am I not allowed to support my future brother-in-law?" Kitsuna teased, her grin sharp enough to make me glance away awkwardly. "Well, jokes aside, I'm here to drop off these two." She pointed at the short swords as though they were the most natural offering in the world.
"He already has weapons, though." Amari gestured at the twin blades hanging comfortably at my waist.
"These are not just some weapons," Kitsuna said, her tone instantly shifting to something heavier.
"Of course they aren't made out of ice," Amari interjected, rolling her eyes, her patience thinning like glass under pressure.
Kitsuna sighed dramatically. "Mages won't understand. Just use them." She leaned back, folded her arms, and clearly indicated that she was done explaining herself.
"Babe, let me just use them," I said quickly, placing a hand over Amari's before she could argue further. "They're probably close to demi-god weapons. And you know she's been working nonstop to refine them."
"Close?" Kitsuna's eyes narrowed dangerously, her ears twitching in mock offense. "Do you two think so little of my skills?"
"Well, you did rip people apart with your tails instead of your sword," Amari muttered.
"And?" Kitsuna tilted her head, ears flicking with challenge.
"You tromped them and showed people how strong your tail can be!" Amari burst, voice pitching higher in irritation.
"Yeah, so they didn't really die. I coated my hair with ice and made it spiky. Problem solved."
Amari groaned, dragging her hand down her face. "Even if they didn't die, it feels like death. The way they went down—half of them will probably walk away with post-traumatic stress disorder."
Kitsuna shrugged. "If they get PTSD from something so trivial, they shouldn't have entered the tournament."
"Kitsuna, not everyone's like you." Amari's voice softened, though the tension in her shoulders didn't. "They can't shrug off pain and torture like it's ordinary."
"I didn't see anyone. Just one shot killed them." Kitsuna tilted her head, her innocence almost unsettling when paired with her words.
I stepped between them, raising both hands. "Guys, stop this. You're going in circles, and I need to concentrate on the fight ahead."
Almost on cue, the booming voice of the commentator filled the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the yearly under-16 tournament! We will start with Group 2's battle royale in ten minutes. Can all contestants make their way into the arena?"
My chest tightened. That was my call.
"Well, that's my time to go," I said, swapping my old blades for the icy new ones Kitsuna brought. Their cold weight fit my hands perfectly, humming with restrained power.
"Good luck, Zagan," Kitsuna said smoothly. "Do try them out. Although they may be useful against the tomato girl, I doubt that you and Zagan will actually engage in a fight.
"Wait, she's in this group too?" Amari's eyes widened, her worry breaking through.
"Yeah," Kitsuna said casually. "And she has one of my swords too. Before she disappeared."
"Babe, I'm using them," I cut in quickly, tapping the sheaths at my sides for emphasis.
Amari's lips pressed thin. "…Fine."
"Thank you. I love you." I kissed her softly before leaving the room, her warmth lingering even as the noise of the arena swallowed me whole.
The closer I drew to the stadium, the louder the chaos became. The roar of the crowd was deafening, the air heavy with mana and the smell of anticipation. I gripped Kitsuna's sword tighter. These are excellent swords, I thought, marveling at how easily my mana threaded into them, like water flowing through carved channels.
"Oh, she gave you one too?" A voice at my side startled me. I turned and found Marquis Anabald's daughter, Katie, standing calmly as if she'd been there the whole time.
"Oh, she can also make claymores?" My eyes darted to the massive blade strapped to her back. "Wait, since when do you use claymores?"
"I don't." Katie shrugged as though the weight of the weapon didn't bother her. "She suggested I use this device for the battle royale. Said it's easier to kill multiples at once."
I sighed. "She really is a weird one." My mind flickered briefly to Shiro—what he was before, what he became now—and I wondered if weird was just our new normal.
"She was always like this," Katie said suddenly, catching me off guard.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I understand you two were close friends in your past lives," she explained, her tone calm and almost scholarly. "My mother told me Kitsuna could always hide her true nature. The way she transformed… it aligns perfectly with the Foxkin bloodline. We've speculated about the reason for her survival and change."
My heart sank. "So you're saying she was lying to me all that time? When were we friends?"
"Yes and no." Katie met my eyes evenly. "She never lied. She just never showed you all of herself."
Suspicion coiled in my chest. "How do you know so much? I only ever told Sara. And Shiro would never tell you either."
Katie's expression softened. "Don't think too much about it. She went through a lot. Having a bond with someone helped her stay sane."
"Why do you sound older than me right now?" I muttered.
"I am."
"By a few months," I shot back, rolling my eyes.
She smirked.
"Oh, right. Are we having a truce then?" I asked, half serious, half grinning.
"Why not?"
"Alright then—you take the back, I'll take the front."
"Sounds fine to me." Katie walked ahead, her stride unhurried. I trailed close, the weight of the swords reassuring against my hips.
The commentator's voice boomed again, shaking the arena. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the second round of qualifiers for the yearly under-16 tournament!"
The crowd erupted.
"This world's way too excited for stuff like this," I muttered. "Don't you think?"
"No one dies here. You're overthinking things." Katie didn't even glance at me.
"That's not the point." A shiver crawled up my spine. "Based on what you just said… I expect a war soon."
She side-eyed me. "Hmm. She did say you were good at raising flags."
"Don't think about it too much," I muttered.
The bells rang. The arena trembled.
"Let the battle royale begin! Only eight will move on!"
"Oh, it's starting," I said, flipping my hair back as adrenaline surged through my veins.
"You should keep your guard up, Zagan." Katie's warning came just before she swung her claymore in a brutal arc, blocking a man rushing me from behind.
"I knew he was coming," I muttered, embarrassed.
"Then act like it. Do your job," she barked, glaring.
"I am!" I snapped back, unleashing a sweep of mana that sliced through three opponents.
"Idiot!" Katie snarled. "Stop wasting mana—you'll need it later!" She swung her claymore with terrifying ease, cleaving through attackers like she'd been born with the weapon.
"How are you so good with that thing?" I demanded, barely keeping up as I parried an incoming strike.
"Don't know," she said flatly.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I've used it in a few matches, but never seriously. Guess I'm just a natural."
"That explains nothing!" I groaned, cutting down another opponent. The corpses vanished almost instantly, the barrier restoring them elsewhere. At least they're not really dead.
Katie ducked suddenly, shoving me down as a fire spell whistled overhead. "Keep your guard up, idiot!"
"Sorry!"
"Shut it!"
I twisted, slamming one blade into the ground as I blocked an arrow with the other. My shadow stretched, and I sank into it, darting between the darkness like a phantom. My blades found throats and backs, my kills quick and silent. When I resurfaced near Katie, she glared daggers.
"Didn't I tell you not to use mana?"
"Sorry," I grinned. "But there's only one girl I listen to."
"Tch." Katie snarled, bisecting another fighter with one swing. "Now I know why Kitsuna wanted to throttle me before. You're unbearable."
I glanced around, panting. She'd already cut down a dozen fighters in the time I'd been shadow-hopping. Her claymore dripped with frost and light.
"You nobles are always so annoying," one boy spat, flinging sand in my eyes before lunging.
"You're pathetic," Katie muttered, dragging me back with one hand before cleaving him in two with the other.
"Sorry," I mumbled again, blinking grit from my eyes.
"Shut up."
And as I stood there, catching my breath while she carved through another wave, one bitter thought echoed in my head.
I am so weak.