The match was over.
But Jay didn't stop.
Ragos, broken and unconscious, lay beneath him—but Jay's fist kept driving down.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Each blow was cold, calculated. There was no fury—just the terrifying silence of someone detached from what he was doing.
Thud.
Thud.
The arena stared, frozen. Even the announcer had stopped talking.
"He's not trying to win anymore," I said.
Jay stood slowly. His white hoodie was soaked in blood at the cuffs. He turned from the trembling body and began walking—calmly, step by step—toward the tall pole with the white flag fluttering at the top.
A gentle breeze caught his hair as he reached it and pulled it free with one hand.
"Timer begins now," the announcer finally said, voice quieter.
60 seconds.
Jay stood with the flag in one hand like a king holding a fallen banner. His eyes were lifeless. Not tired—just far away.
The crowd watched in dead silence.
Then—
Beep.
Match Over.
Jay had won.
The crowd burst into a confused, tense cheer—but the air never returned to normal. The arena felt heavier now.
Even victory… felt wrong.
Outside the Arena…
Some of the participants talked in low voices.
"Jay's not human…""That wasn't fighting, that was execution…""Did you feel the aura change? The whole arena bent around him…"
Others stayed quiet—processing. Thinking. Watching.
He sat still, his white hood drawn low.
The announcer's voice returned, booming loud again as if trying to reset the energy.
"AND NOW—THE FINAL MATCH OF THE DAY!"
Fireworks burst above. The crowd rallied again.
"A battle we've been waiting for… The mysterious masked contestant... TAREK ALVIRIS… aka the wildcard!"
I stood up.
"That's me," I muttered.
I Walk to the Arena
The sunlight hit different now—harsher, colder.
As I walked past the other contestants, I caught glares… murmurs… fear.
But none of it fazed me.
I stepped into the arena, looked at the crowd—and then I spoke.
No microphone. Just my voice—steady, sharp, surgical.
"You all saw what Jay did… and you cheered."
"You cheer for strength, even when it disgusts you. You praise it. Worship it. Because you all want to believe you're safe under someone stronger."
"But let me tell you the truth—strength doesn't protect anyone."
"It only separates those who survive… from those who get left behind."
The crowd went quiet.
I tilted my head.
"You think this tournament is just about matches and fireworks?"
I pulled down his mask slightly, showing my glowing red eye, just enough to show a glimpse of my crimson-scarred skin beneath—his Crimson bloodline throbbing.
"This tournament isn't about who's strongest.""It's about who's willing to go the furthest to break the world."
He put the mask back on his eye.
"So watch closely, all of you. Because what you're about to witness…"
"Is the beginning of the end."
The entire arena stood silent.
Even the announcer didn't speak.
The final match of the day hadn't started yet… but already, the world felt like it had shifted.