The Labyrinth of Blades
Anticipation. The moment was thickening.
A silence fell across the colosseum. Then suddenly, a thunderous voice of an announcer cracked through the air like lightning.
"And now... let the carnage begin!"
The arena trembled violently. A low rumble echoed beneath their feet. It was as if the very earth split open. In seconds, massive stone walls surged upward. They were rising like ancient beasts awakening from the deep. Dust spiraled into the air. In no time, the open field of the battlefield transformed into an intricate labyrinth. Filled with shadow and stones.
Blaze narrowed his eyes at the rising walls.
"Where did those come from?" he muttered. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword and tightened his grip. The steel felt steady in his hands. Comforting.
The announcer's voice was brimming with theatrical flair.
"Ooooh. Looks like this Battle Royale's gonna be in-ter-es-ting! Forty swordsmen are captivated in this deadly maze! Thirty-one veterans—seasoned challengers who've tasted failure and returned for redemption! And the remaining nine... fresh blood! Rookies, untested, unknown! Who will rise, who will fall, and who will claim victory?! Only one can stand at the top!"
Blaze scanned the battlefield. His cheeks were rolling with sweat.
"Thirty-one returning challengers..." he whispered. "They're dangerous. But the real unknowns... are the other eight."
Suddenly—
CLANG!
Steel clashed in the distance. The first cries of battle rang out.
"Oh! Six Novice warriors are already down! The rookies are setting the colosseum ablaze!"
A gust of wind brushed against Blaze's cheek. He Blinked. Then, in an instant, a shadow came from nowhere.
"Oii, kid! What are you spacing out for in the middle of a battlefield?!"
The voice came with a sword—broad, heavy, and aimed directly for his neck.
"Tch—!"
Blaze's body moved before thought could catch up. His form flickered—and vanished.
The burly swordsman stumbled mid-swing.
"Huh?! Where did he—"
Whisper.
A presence behind him. Cold steel hovered at his back.
"Too slow."
Blaze's blade slashed through the air in a diagonal cross-cut, clean and merciless.
The man grunted. His eyes widen in disbelief. After that, he collapsed in a heap.
"Uhh, again, another one bites the dust! That leaves nineteen! Twenty-one still standing!" the announcer crowed.
But before Blaze could regain his footing—
A scream.
He turned toward the sound. A red stain bloomed across the stones. It was spreading like a spilled dream. A contestant crumpled, unmoving—until a flare of light enveloped them. Emergency teleportation magic. Automatic.
Gone in a flash.
Blaze's jaw clenched.
"Something bad happened..."
"No time for worrying, rookie!"
Three figures burst from the maze ahead, weapons raised, eyes locked on him. Experienced. Coordinated.
Blaze exhaled slowly. Then—
"Let's dance."
He spun, his blade tracing a tight arc. One movement, three strikes.
A shining "Z" carved the air—steel met flesh, and cries were cut short. The trio collapsed in unison.
Then, silence.
Then again—
So many people were crying at once, and in a few seconds, they stopped; silence fell again.
"What was that sound? What happened?" Blaze's heart started to race.
The crowd was trembling violently again, like the whole atmosphere had changed in no time.
"What was that? A living massacre. What a bloodbath! Eleven candidates dropped out at once. That's Kaine. After losing that heartless battle last time, he is back in the field again."
"Eleven?" Blaze's heart started to race again. "Who was that? Kaine... And what about the heartless battle?"
The labyrinth shuddered once more. Like a beast finished with its game, the stone walls receded into the earth, swallowed by dust and fading light.
"Whoa," Blaze muttered. "Not again..."
When the dust settled, only three figures stood within the colosseum's heart. Its floor was crimson with blood. And a terrible odour.
The announcer's voice echoed with glee.
"Looks like the battle within the labyrinth is over. We've got three! Two fresh faces, and one seasoned warrior—the runner-up from last month's heartless showdown!"
The crowd erupted.
Blaze wiped the sweat from his brow, his heart steady, and his breath sharp.
This wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.
The Final Three
"That was fast."
Everyone in the Colosseum got into the mood. They started clapping and screaming, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" The whole Colosseum started to tremble again.
Blaze turned. His blade was still at the ready.
A familiar voice rang out—cocky, gravel-laced.
"So, you survived, kid. But how unfortunate. This is as far as you go."
Blaze's lips tugged with a small grin. He knew just as he heard him. He didn't even need to see his face to know who it was.
"Hello again, old man."
The voice belonged to the person he'd met on his way to the Colosseum gates. Same gruff and seasoned with confidence.
A vein throbbed visibly on his temple.
"Old man?! I'm twenty-six! Who the hell are you calling old, huh?!"
Blaze shrugged. He was barely suppressing a laugh.
"My bad."
The veteran lifted his shirt just enough to reveal a jagged and deep scar running diagonally across his chest. He sighed.
"I trained my ass off after last month's loss. You can still retreat. You heard that massacre earlier? I'm not here to play nice this time. I'm here to win."
"So am I." Blaze raised his blade, the steel gleaming with resolve. "Let's see who wants it more."
The clash came like lightning.
The veteran moved first—no hesitation. His unwielding sword came down in a brutal arc. He was aiming straight for Blaze's collarbone.
Blaze reacted on instinct. Their blades met mid-air with a flash of sparks and a clang that sent shivers down the crowd's spines. The impact rattled through Blaze's arms. But he twisted his arm and deflected the strike.
No time to breathe.
The veteran turned fast. A horizontal sweep threatened to take Blaze's head clean off. He ducked just in time. But the wind from the swing rushed past his ear.
"That was close."
Blaze countered—quick step left, feint, then a clean thrust toward the ribs.
A sharp ting. The strike hit flesh, but shallow. Just a nick.
"Not bad," the veteran said with a wolfish grin. "But—"
He vanished from view for a split second.
SHHK!
A blur of motion—a high-speed diagonal slash, fluid and deadly. Blaze barely raised his sword in time, sliding backward with a rough skid, boots scraping against the stone.
The tension in the air buzzed like a live wire.
Across the battlefield, the announcer's voice echoed in rising disbelief.
"Wait a second—what is this?! One of the finalists... he hasn't moved an inch! Okino Nakasamaru! Just sitting there with his sword on the ground?!"
The crowd murmured.
Zoom in—one of the massive screens focused on Okino.
He sat cross-legged, his golden eyes half-lidded in amusement, his long yellow hair fluttering gently. Red spikes flickered like fire in the wind.
His chin rested on his hand with his elbow perched on his knee.
He smiled lazily.
"No rush," he said aloud, unfazed by the magicams. "I'll take on the winner."
Magicams are magical bees that work like a camera.
The arena exploded in cheers.
But Blaze couldn't spare a glance.
The fight raged on.
Steel clashed. Sparks flew. Footsteps echoed across the ground like clashing in a deadly dance. Each strike carried intent—parries turned into counters, and mistakes were punished instantly.
Then the shift came.
The veteran's stance changed—subtle, but unmistakable. His breath slowed. His body relaxed. His presence grew sharper.
Blaze's eyes narrowed.
What's that?
A refined state of mind only seasoned warriors could reach. The moment when thinking becomes more precise and faster. And the body moved freely and precisely, guided by a fresh mind and thinking.
The veteran surged forward. His giant sword looked like a viper.
CLANG. SHK! SHK!
A rapid exchange. Blaze kept swiftness—barely. His arms screamed, his legs strained, but his focus never wavered.
Then it came.
"Phantom Fang!"
The veteran twisted his blade mid-swing. A feint within a feint.
Blaze moved to block, but it was the wrong direction.
A sharp pain flared as the blade grazed his shoulder, slicing clean through fabric and into skin.
"Gotcha," the veteran chuckled. "This move, I perfected it after last month's battle royale. Guess this is where you fall."
Blaze winced. Blood dripped down his arm.
He exhaled.
And smiled.
"Yeah... not bad," he said. "But that's not a move. It's a trick. And a trick only works once."
He moved.
A spinning slash—fluid, powerful. A finisher?
No.
He faked it.
At the last possible second, Blaze stepped forward, invading the veteran's zone. The man's sword whooshed past, cutting only air.
And Blaze's own blade—point-first—punched forward.
THNK.
A clean thrust. Shallow—but decisive.
The veteran stumbled back. His eyes widened. He looked down at the red bloom on his tunic.
"Damn... I lost again?"
Blaze withdrew his blade.
"You were strong."
A soft glow enveloped the veteran—the emergency teleport activating.
And just like that, he was gone.
The arena reverberated with cheering and screaming.
But Blaze didn't raise his sword in victory.
Another slow clap echoed through the colosseum.
He turned.
Okino Nakasamaru stood, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders with a lazy grin. His sword, once at rest, now gleamed in his hand.
His golden eyes shone like firelight.
"That was fun to watch," he said and cracked his neck.
He took one step forward.
"Guess it's my turn now."
Blaze tightened his grip.
The next battle wouldn't be like the last.
This... was the real one.
Thunderclap Flash
Okino Nakasamaru cracked his knuckles. His golden eyes were glowing with amusement. He lifted his sword lazily, resting it on his shoulder. "Looks like you're tired."
Blaze wiped the sweat from his brow. His breath was also coming in ragged bursts. His arms ached from the relentless battle against the veteran. But his grip on his sword didn't waver. He smirked. "I can't deny that. Okay then... let's finish this quickly."
In an instant, Blaze pierced forward.
His sword lashed out, a precise, high-speed thrust aimed for Okino's chest.
But—
CLANG!
Okino deflected the strike with an almost lazy flick with his sword. He redirected Blaze's blade with minimal effort. Sparks flared from the impact.
Blaze barely had time to react before Okino countered—his sword slashing upward in a fluid arc.
Blaze twisted mid-air, barely avoiding the cut, but Okino was already moving. He stepped in close, too close, forcing Blaze off balance.
A palm strike.
Blaze's eyes widened. Okino's open palm slammed into his chest. It sent him skidding backward across the battlefield. Dust kicked up in his wake.
The crowd gasped.
"Whoa! What was that? Okino didn't just block the attack—he pushed Blaze away like it was nothing!" the announcer's voice boomed.
Blaze coughed. He was forcing himself back to his feet. His chest ached from the impact of Okino. He gritted his teeth. "Tch... not bad."
Okino twirled his sword once before pointing it at Blaze. "You sure are fast," he admitted. "But it's not enough to beat me."
Then he vanished.
Blaze's instincts screamed. "Where did he go?"
He started to look here and there for Okino.
A blur of flames and motion—Okino appeared at Blaze's side, his blade already descending.
Blaze blocked—barely.
His sword nearly flew from his hands for the force of Okino's strike. His bones rattled from the sheer force behind that strike.
He's strong. Really strong.
But I've faced strong before.
Blaze shifted his footing. He was grounding himself. Okino was on the offensive, but there was a rhythm to his movements. He was elegant and well-practiced. He wasn't just fast; he was also precise and deadly.
Okino grinned. "Try to keep up, will ya?"
Blaze had no time to respond.
Okino twirled his sword effortlessly. His golden eyes were gleaming with confidence. He exhaled slowly and tapped the flat of his blade against his shoulder. "You're strong, Blaze. But let's be honest— after that match earlier, you're running on nothing but fumes."
Blaze clenched his sword tightly. His breathing was heavy. His legs felt like lead. And his arms were numb from the relentless battle. But his spirit hadn't wavered. He refused to lose.
Okino suddenly smirked. "Tell you what. Since I've been resting this whole time, let's make things a little more interesting."
Blaze narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Okino raised a single finger. "One deal. If you can stop just one of my attacks—just one—I'll resign."
The Colosseum fell into stunned silence.
Then, a sudden chaos erupted.
"W-WHAT?!" The announcer's voice rang out. It was barely audible over the roaring crowd. "Is Okino mocking his opponent? Or does he truly believe Blaze won't block even a single strike?!"
Blaze wiped the sweat from his brow. His heart was pounding. This was a chance. But it was also a risk. If Okino was this confident, then...
Blaze grinned. "Fine. I accept."
The crowd screamed at once, "Duel! Duel! Duel! Duel!..."
"It's really happening. A duel between Okino Nakasamaru and Blaze Lumnell." The announcer screamed out.
Okino gripped his sword with both hands. "Looks like everything is good. Now then..."
He vanished.
A gust of wind. A flash of golden light.
"Blazing Mirage!"
Blaze's instincts screamed. But how unfortunate! It was already too late. Okino's sword appeared from three directions at once—a high-speed illusion technique.
"Huh..?" Blaze gasped.
He reacted on instinct, bringing up his sword—but the impact came from behind.
A dull thud.
Pain exploded through Blaze's back as Okino's pommel struck him cleanly, sending him tumbling forward. He barely stopped himself from falling face-first into the dirt.
The crowd was choked only by looking at them.
"First attack—failed!" the announcer declared. "Blaze couldn't react in time! He still has two more chances, but can he do it?! He got a pretty bad thud from behind."
Blaze gritted his teeth and forced himself up. His breathing was uneven. Too fast. I couldn't see it. And what was that illusion? He thought as he remembered that attack.
Okino stood casually, not even winded. "That was the first."
Blaze steadied his stance. Don't lose your head. Trust your senses.
Okino exhaled, lowering his stance.
"Second strike—Scorching Gale!"
A flicker. Then—
A storm.
Okino moved at blinding speed, his sword with the yellow hilt, dancing like a raging inferno, striking from every angle in a relentless flurry. Blaze barely managed to deflect the first few swings, sparks flying from each clash, but—
A sharp pain tore across his side.
A thin cut.
Okino stopped mid-motion.
Silence.
Then, he clicked his tongue and stepped back. "That's two. One left."
The crowd screamed again, "Go for it! Go for it! Go for it!"
"Looks like the crowd is enjoying it too," Okino said with a smile.
Blaze staggered, his vision slightly blurred. He was losing. His body knew it. But his heart refused to accept it.
He had to win.
Suddenly—
Memories flashed before his eyes.
The old man's gruff voice echoed in his mind.
"If you wanna be the strongest, you need to see beyond the fight."
"A warrior's will? That's what boosts the battles."
"Now again, Blaze! Block it!"
Block it.
Blaze's pulse slowed.
The battlefield. The roar of the crowd. Okino's stance. The way the wind shifted.
He could see it.
A flicker in the air. A microsecond's hesitation in Okino's feet.
Blaze readied himself—not with brute strength, but with unwavering resolve.
Okino took a deep breath. "Final attack."
The entire Colosseum held its breath.
"Thunderclap Flash!"
It was instantaneous.
Okino disappeared.
"What's happening? Where is Okino Nakasamaru?" The announcer erupted.
A yellow thunder-like flash here and there on the Colosseum ground.
But Blaze didn't move.
Then suddenly—
A streak of golden-red light shot toward Blaze. His fastest attack. Filled with fast illusions. They were passing Blaze like flash bullets.
But he didn't dodge.
He breathed. "What am I doing? I'm gonna become the strongest swordsman." He whispered.
And then, with a fierce look in his eyes, at the last possible second—
Blaze stepped forward with a lower stance toward the flash. "Not this time."
He was fast.
His sword met Okino's. The wind around them was going rampant from the impact. The ground where they were standing cracked from the power of the impact.
A shockwave exploded outward.
Blaze stopped it.
For an eternal second, nothing moved. Then—
A thin red line appeared across Okino's cheek.
A cut.
Blaze had won.
The crowd erupted. The cheers were deafening. The entire Colosseum was shaking.
The announcer's voice cracked with excitement. "HE DID IT! BLAZE LUMNELL STOPPED IT! CONTESTANT BLAZE IS THE WINNER!"
Okino stepped back, touching the cut on his face. Then, he laughed.
"That... was a great match." He sheathed his sword, rolling his shoulders. "Next time, I'll win."
Blaze, barely standing, exhaled and smirked. "We'll see about that."
Then, his legs finally gave out.
Before he hit the ground, Okino caught him.
The last thing Blaze saw was the sky above—the victory.
"Blaze! Blaze! Blaze!" The Colosseum roared his name.
Okino turned, grinning. "Next time, Blaze, you won't be so lucky."
Blaze, still catching his breath, smirked. "We'll see about that."