The battle had ended, but its shadow lingered. The air was thick, suffocating, as if the ruins themselves still carried the screams of the clash. The Grand Stadium—once a monument to glory—lay shattered. Stone cracked into jagged fissures, the earth scorched black, embers glowing faintly like dying stars. The protective barrier, built to contain legends, had been torn apart as if it were nothing.
Silence followed. A silence louder than any roar.
The audience, who had once cheered with reckless excitement, now sat frozen in disbelief. Some clutched the railings until their knuckles turned white; others whispered frantically, voices trembling as though speaking too loudly might draw the fury of what they had just seen back upon them. Even the sky above felt heavy, weighed down by the remnants of the battle's energy.
Mira stood stiff, her lungs burning as if she had forgotten how to breathe. Her heart pounded wildly, each beat crashing against her ribs. She had seen sparring before—measured, restrained, controlled. But this… this had been war. Brutal, merciless, the kind of battle where survival itself was the only rule.
Across the battlefield, Kai struggled to rise. His legs shook beneath him, his wounds bleeding freely, his breath uneven and ragged. His uniform, once pristine, hung in tatters, drenched in sweat, dirt, and blood. The unwavering flame in his golden eyes had dulled, flickering weakly like a candle fighting the wind.
Refella's last strike had broken him.
Kai swayed, trying to hold himself upright, but his body betrayed him. His knees buckled, and with a gasp he collapsed, dust rising around him.
"Kai!"
Ren's voice cracked as he sprinted forward, ignoring the pain in his own battered frame. His mind was a storm—regret, fear, anger all colliding. If only he had faced Refella himself, if only he had drawn her attention away… maybe Kai wouldn't be lying there like this.
Akira was right behind him, her sharp composure stripped away. She dropped to her knees, hands moving quickly over Kai's wounds, her voice sharp with panic. "Damn it—he's worse than I thought."
Kai tried to wave them off, but his arm felt like stone. "I'm fine," he muttered, voice hoarse, every syllable laced with pain. "Just… give me a moment."
Ren scoffed, though his voice softened against his will. "Yeah right. You were about to crawl your way out of here, weren't you?"
Mira's fists trembled as she watched from the stands. She had never seen Kai like this—broken, human, fragile. For the first time, she understood what it meant to stand at the top. Power wasn't glory. It was suffering.
Miss Veena stepped forward, her voice echoing across the battlefield. "The match has ended. No more fighting today."
No cheers followed, no applause. Only silence, as if the crowd itself was mourning what they had seen.
Ren and Akira hauled Kai up, his arms draped across their shoulders. Even then, his legs dragged, his body begging for rest.
"We need him treated. Now," Akira said firmly, her usual teasing gone, replaced by raw urgency.
"I'll help," Mira said quickly, her voice cracking but steady enough.
Ren nodded once. "Then let's move."
Together, the Seven Devils left the ruined arena, their silhouettes heavy with exhaustion. Mira glanced back one last time at the battlefield—broken stone, spilled blood, lingering embers. This was the cost of power. This was the world she had chosen. And deep in her chest, doubt coiled like a serpent. Can I really survive this?
Hours later, in the quiet of the White House, Kai stirred. Pain rippled through him with every shallow breath. His vision cleared slowly, adjusting to the soft flicker of candlelight. Then he saw her.
Akira sat slumped over the desk at his bedside, head resting on her arms, strands of black hair falling over her face. She had fought against rest until exhaustion finally claimed her. Even in sleep, her fingers curled as though ready to fight again at any moment.
Kai watched her, warmth breaking through the haze of pain. She had stayed. Despite her own wounds, her own exhaustion, she had refused to leave his side. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, a faint smile touched his mouth before pain pulled it away again.
The scars of battle would remain long after the wounds healed.
High above, in the shattered stadium, the elders watched.
Lucian's sharp gaze followed Kai's collapse, his arms crossed, expression unreadable. "His beast transformation was unstable," he finally said, voice cutting through the silence. "For all his strength, his foundation is still weak. This battle only made that clearer."
The Grandmaster turned to him, eyes like ancient stone. "Tell me, Lucian. Are these children truly the ones you've been searching for?"
Lucian's gaze did not waver. His lips curled in the faintest hint of a smile. "Yes. These kids… they are the ones. They will either rise to shake the heavens—or break under the weight of their path."