The dust from the collapsed arena hangs in the air, thick and choking. A panicked voice booms over the loudspeakers, cutting through the confusion.
"Attention! Due to the... catastrophic alteration of the arena and the mass elimination of participants in that final strike, we no longer have enough qualifying contestants to continue this bracket! We are ending the round here!"
Cheers erupt from the stands—not for a specific winner, but for the spectacle. Team Tanaka is out, disqualified by the fall, but cameras flash blindingly in Najo's face as he climbs back onto solid ground. He didn't win the match, but he certainly won the crowd.
From the sidelines, Hawk dusts herself off, looking at the destruction with a mixture of annoyance and grudging respect. "Looks like he's tougher than I thought," she mutters. "That will definitely be in the papers tomorrow."
While the medical team rushes to the collapsed sector, Moto grabs Aemon by the arm. "Come on, I saw them over here." He hurries toward the golden-eyed girl and her brother. "Hey!" Moto calls out. "That was incredible movement earlier."
The girl turns. Up close, her eyes are even more piercing. Aemon's face flushes a deep red, and he suddenly finds the ground very interesting, unable to speak.
"Thanks," the girl smiles, extending a hand. "I'm Lilly. This is my brother, Will." Will, the boy with the cold, dead eyes, gives a barely perceptible nod. He looks bored, bordering on irritated.
Moto shakes her hand, but his eyes drift to the weapon at her hip. He squints, realising what it is. "Wait... you did all that with a wooden sword?" "Yeah," Lilly pats the bokken. "My real sword is a bit too dangerous for a friendly match. And hey, your hand-to-hand skills are pretty solid too." "Thanks. I've been training for a while," Moto says, his expression turning serious. "But watching you... I think it's time I tried something new." "Oh?" "Yeah. Can you teach me how to use a sword?"
Lilly raises an eyebrow. "The next round is in four days. You'd have to train until your hands bleed just to get the basics down." Moto grins. "That's just what I need." Lilly studies him for a moment, then shrugs with a smile. "Okay then. You seem like decent people." "Awesome. When do we start?" "Meet us here as soon as the sun rises. Bring your friend with you," she gestures to the blushing Aemon. "Will can train him, too."
Will scoffs, rolling his eyes hard. "Seriously? I have to babysit the stuttering kid?" "Will, be nice," Lilly chides. "Fine," Will grumbles, crossing his arms and looking at Aemon with disdain. "But if he cries, I'm leaving."
Moments later, Najo and Tanaka approach. Tanaka's green shirt is stained red, though she moves with easy grace. "You okay?" Moto asks immediately. "I'm fine, thanks for asking," she replies. "Though we definitely won't be making it to the next round. We're out." "Oh, sorry to hear that," Moto says, though there's a playful, taunting glint in his eye as he looks at Najo. Najo puffs his chest out, ignoring the disqualification. "Yeah, well, it is what it is. But I'm definitely stronger than you now. That's 1-0 for me." Moto looks at the devastation behind Najo—the shattered earth, the ruined boundary lines. "You know what? Maybe," Moto admits. "Enjoy it while it lasts. I'm going to start working on a wide-range move too." "Hmph," Najo smirks. "Just keep playing catch-up."
The group heads to the giant Antelope Man's store to stock up on food before returning to the hotel. Inside, the atmosphere is tense. The Antelope Man is scrubbing the counter nervously.
Moto notices a gap in the wall of wanted posters. "What happened to that one?" Moto asks, pointing to the empty spot. "Bounty collected," the shopkeeper whispers. "Just like the night before. One down, every single night."
He leans in closer. "The Night Dwellers are terrified. They've stopped going up to the mountains. Hunters have reported trails of blood leading up into the peaks, but no bodies." The team exchanges uneasy glances. "You kids have nothing to worry about," the Antelope Man adds quickly. "There's no bounty on your heads."
Moto frowns, his eyes darkening dangerously. "Still... hunting people down like animals for cash? It's cowardly." He clenches his fist, his voice dropping an octave. "I swear, if Alicia has anything to do with this... if she's hurting people just for a paycheck... we're going to have a problem."
Back at the hotel, they shower and eat. Outside, the sun sets, and the city undergoes its transformation. It is unlike the neon glare of modern cities. Sango at night is a world of natural bioluminescence. Giant, glowing mushrooms line the streets, vines pulsing with soft blue light wrap around the wooden buildings, and radiant flowers bloom in the moonlight, casting a mystical, ethereal glow over the populace.
"Since we're out of the tournament," Tanaka says, unrolling a map on the table, "I suggest Najo, and I gather that intel you need while you train for your next match." "Sounds like a plan," Moto agrees. "It's a bummer they won't let us see the Queen yet." "It's standard protocol," Tanaka assures him. "But we can learn a lot just by observing the culture. Plus, I still want to visit the ancient Hwange site."
Najo, who has been staring out the window, suddenly stiffens. "Hey." Moto joins him at the window. Down on the street, bathed in the soft glow of the fungal streetlamps, is the guy with the snake tattoos. Walking next to him is a man whose face was on one of the posters in the shop. "There he is," Najo whispers. "Snake. The guy from the team that took us out." "We saw him earlier today," Moto frowns. "He's a Day Dweller. Shouldn't he be asleep right now?" "Who cares?" Najo shrugs. "I don't know," Moto mutters. "I have a bad feeling about this."
"Do you want to know what he's up to?" Aemon asks quietly. Moto looks at him and nods. Aemon closes his eyes, reaching out with his mind. Grillet. In his mind's eye, a dark, shadowy figure manifests—Grillet. "I cannot leave you, boy," Grillet's voice echoes in Aemon's head. "My duty is to keep your darkness in check. Separation weakens the seal." "I'll be fine," Aemon projects his thought back firmly. "I'll stay calm. Just follow him."
With a reluctant hum, the invisible presence of Grillet phases through the glass window, drifting silently into the shadows of the street below.
Grillet trails Snake from a distance. Snake walks the man to the edge of the residential district. "Catch you later, man," Snake says coolly. He extends his fist. The man bumps it. "Yeah, later."
In the split second their knuckles touch, unseen by the man, a tiny, ink-black snake tattoo on Snake's wrist peels itself off his skin. It slithers rapidly into the man's sleeve, disappearing into the folds of his clothes.
The man walks off toward the mountains, carrying his death with him. Snake watches him go, then doubles back, sneaking through the back door of a modest, single-story house.
Inside, Snake slips into a bedroom he shares with another young man. "Up early as usual, huh, Chumani?" the young man asks. He is putting on a work uniform. "You're the one who's late," Snake retorts, closing the door. "And it's Snake." The brother, Blake, rolls his eyes. "Man, you know I'm not calling you by my rightful title." "Ey," Snake snaps. "It's not my fault, I'm stronger than you." Blake chuckles, grabbing a towel. "Yeah, well, I'm still your older brother. So I'll call you what I want."
Blake pauses, his smile fading slightly. "Hey... you be careful out there tonight, alright?" "Why?" Snake asks, feigning ignorance. "The Night Hunter," Blake whispers. "They say he's out again. Rumour is he runs with two hyenas that rip his victims in half. They find the blood, but never the bones." Snake scoffs, waving his hand dismissively. "Ghost stories to scare children, Blake. Don't let it get to you." "Just watch your back," Blake mutters, exiting to wash his face.
As soon as the door clicks shut, the tattoos on Snake's left arm ripple. The green serpent, Sixtus, slithers up his bicep and coils around his neck. "Are you sure we should do this again?" Sixtus hisses, its voice echoing in Snake's mind. "Your body needs rest." "Don't argue, Sixtus," Snake whispers, tilting his head to the side.
Sixtus lowers its head and sinks its fangs into Snake's neck. Snake doesn't roll his eyes; instead, they flash with an intense, eerie green glow. A jolt of unnatural energy floods his system, erasing the fatigue of the day. He stretches his arms, adrenaline replacing sleep. Blake walks back in. "Let's go."
They work through the night—heavy lifting, security detail, odd jobs—and return home only when the sun begins to peek over the horizon.
The next morning. Snake doesn't sleep. He leaves his snoring brother and heads straight to the Antelope Man's shop.
He sits alone at a table, nursing a drink, his eyes heavy but wired. He isn't looking at his drink. He is staring at the wall. The shopkeeper's son walks over to the wall of bounties. He glances at Snake, terror evident in his eyes, before reaching up and ripping down a poster. It is the man Snake was walking with the night before.
The son scurries away, clutching the paper, but he glances back at Snake one last time. Snake doesn't move, but on his forearm, a small, distinct snake tattoo—the same one that had slithered into the man's sleeve the night before—wriggles. Its tiny ink eyes seem to lock directly onto the boy, staring him down with malicious intent. The boy gasps and runs into the back room.
Snake takes a sip of his drink, his gaze shifting to the posters that remain. There are eight left. His eyes fixate on one in particular. It is a picture of his older brother, Blake.