The sky above Mato was darker than usual.
Thick clouds hung low, smothering what little light tried to escape. Jagged cliffs surrounded the narrow valley, and not a single patch of green broke the endless landscape of shattered stone and black dust. Even the wind was quiet, like it was holding its breath.
Then the ground cracked open.
One by one, the Shuukis emerged—fifteen of them—hauling themselves up with heavy limbs, their massive bodies twitching as if waking from a nightmare. They were grotesque, black-skinned things, each one easily three times the size of a grown man. Their faces were covered by pale, twisted masks with hollow dot-eyes and frozen, smiling mouths. They looked like demonic gorillas pumped full of rage.
And then they charged.
The horde didn't hesitate. They stormed through the narrow pass between the cliffs, pounding the rocky ground beneath them as they made their way toward the opening.
But just as the lead Shuuki's foot crossed the threshold—
Puchi!
Its chest caved inward with a sickening crack. A blue flame burst out from the hole like a geyser, and in seconds, the creature turned to ash.
The others didn't stop. Roaring mindlessly, they surged forward together, muscles bulging, claws ready to tear apart anything that moved.
But fate had other plans.
A white-blue blur tore through the air. In a flash, half the horde was flung back like rag dolls, their broken bodies crashing into the cliffside.
BOOM!
Dust exploded across the battlefield, shrouding everything. And standing at the center of it all, one fist still outstretched, was a new figure.
He looked like a ghost from an ancient martial legend. Humanoid, lean, and fast—almost like a Werewolf, his white form shimmered slightly in the grey light. A ninja-style scarf fluttered behind him, and his baggy pants shifted with the wind. On his back, sitting like a queen on a throne, was none other than Himari Azuma, Vice Commander of the Seventh Unit.
And she was grinning.
Not because she wanted to—but because she couldn't help it.
This wasn't the same Slave form that Yuuki used when he was with Commander Kyouka. This was different—lighter, sharper. Himari had been skeptical at first. Yuuki had warned her that this transformation, which they'd named Whirlwind, prioritized speed. Offense and defense were "nerfed," as he put it. She had rolled her eyes.
But then he punched a hole through a Shuuki's chest.
And then he moved fast like a wind.
And then she started to believe him a little.
(What the hell does he even mean by "nerfed"...?) she thought, holding the chain attached to his slave collar tighter as Yuuki's body disappeared and reappeared in bursts.
What she didn't know—what no one knew—was that Yuuki had felt something unusual during the transformation. The moment he kissed her hand and invoked the Slave contract, his body responded differently.
A heat stirred in his lower back. His spine tingled. He closed his eyes, followed the sensation, and then—something clicked.
His kundalini energy shifted. But unlike the usual it's path was different this time and it directly went for his second chakra instead of first.
And then something happened that he couldn't explain in words.
He could feel it, even if he didn't fully understand it. A pink thread—thin but radiant—connected Himari's heart to his own. He didn't say anything, But deep inside, he smiled, treating it as a chance instead of overthinking things, like he usually does.
(So this is what it feels like…)
He channeled the energy through his body, which was running wildly inside his body without a direction, directing it to his Root Chakra—the base of everything, instead of letting it jump a step and go to the second chakra.
The moment he did, it was like pouring fuel into a silent engine. His strikes gained weight. His senses expanded. In Whirlwind form, it used to take ten hits to finish off a Shuuki. Now, it only took one.
And because he was barefoot, his connection to the ground let him sense everything. The moment a Shuuki twitched, Yuuki was already there—stomping it back into the earth before it could rise again.
And this was just Day One.
They trained like hell for the next four days. No rest, no distractions—just sweat and motion.
On Day Two, they studied their opponents for the upcoming Intersquad Tournament. Yuuki, using every bit of knowledge from his past life, threw out bizarre, ridiculous ideas—half of them straight out of manga, the other half based on real physics. Himari rejected most of them.
("I'm not riding a catapult, Yuuki.")
Day Three, they focused on developing a finishing move. Yuuki practiced for hours, until his limbs ached and his breathing grew shallow. Himari watched quietly, until Commander Kyouka herself approached and dropped a surprise.
"If you're going to fight, you need to ride him," Kyouka said flatly. "That's what a Master does."
It changed everything.
The moment Himari climbed onto Yuuki's back, his energy aligned. His speed improved. His technique sharpened. It was as if his entire balance shifted—like her presence helped guide his power in a way that made it easier, more focused.
By Day Four, they were completely in sync.
Of course, things between them had gotten... complicated.
The reward system didn't let them rest, either. Tasks completed meant intimacy shared. At first it was awkward—Himari protested, snapped, called him names. But somehow her mouth kept moving in different directions than her hands. She found herself clinging to him longer than necessary. Her lips stopped pulling away. Her fingers lingered.
From kissing to licking—they did more than she could admit out loud.
Yuuki didn't say much, but he noticed everything. The way her voice softened when she thought he wasn't listening.
They were still rough, still bickering—but there was a warmth now. A spark that didn't come from duty or training. Something real.
And just like that—the night before the tournament arrived.
Tomorrow, everything would begin.