The coliseum shook with noise. Banners rippled overhead, drums pounded, and the crowd's chant rolled through the stone like thunder.
In the dim corridor beneath, Kazuo stood waiting. His name hadn't been called yet. All he could hear was the roar above — louder, sharper than before. He adjusted the straps of his gloves, steadying his breath. Whatever spectacle Cedric had prepared, he hadn't seen it yet.
Far above, in the Captains' Gallery, Setsuna stepped into view with his usual calm — only for his expression to stiffen the instant his eyes dropped to the arena.
"…What the hell…"
The stage was no longer ringed by spikes. Instead, molten rivers of lava circled the platform, glowing and hissing, a wall of fire and smoke rising into the air. Heat shimmered even from this height, distorting the edges of the ring.
Vaskel leaned forward with a crooked smirk, voice cutting like glass. "What's the matter, Setsuna? Afraid your precious brat might evaporate before the match even begins?"
Setsuna's eyes slid toward him, cold and sharp. "Watch it."
The air between them thickened — until Zahari's voice cut through, steady and low.
"Calm down. Both of you."
For a moment, silence lingered. Then Vaskel leaned back, his smile curling like a serpent's, while Setsuna kept his gaze fixed on the molten ring below.
Aleina shifted uncomfortably, her brows drawing together. "I don't like this. Lava? It feels wrong — too much, even for a tournament."
She shook her head, her voice softer now. "It doesn't sit right with me."
Garou's low growl carried across the gallery. "Hmph. After what he did to my man Rhakka, I hope that black-eyed kid crushes him."
Idris said nothing, his eyes locked on the glowing moat. Rigged. Blatantly so. But why make it so obvious? What game are you playing, Cedric?
Down in the squad stands, Tetsu pushed his glasses up, voice sharp with agitation. "This isn't even fire — it's lava. Do they realize what that means? The heat alone will force water to evaporate faster, thinning out the air's moisture. Kazuo's spells will lose density before they even form. It's a deliberate handicap — his entire style gets nerfed in an instant."
Sora leaned back in her seat, arms folded, her usual grin tugging at the edges of her mouth. "Handicap's the polite word for it," she said. Her ears twitched as she flicked her gaze across the stands. "Seriously, what are they even trying to prove? Roast him alive for sport?"
When Lyria slammed the railing and shouted her protest, Sora arched a brow, then jabbed Tetsu with her elbow. "And why is she here again?"
Tetsu adjusted his glasses, deadpan. "Beats me. But Aoi's here too… again."
Sora snorted, her tail swishing with amusement. "Huh. Don't tell me Kazuo's secretly getting popular."
Aoi didn't react, sitting with his usual cold detachment, eyes fixed on the lava-ringed stage.
Off to the side, in the shadowed edge of the Gallery, Kaya leaned silently against the wall. She hadn't said a word — just watching, yellow eyes unblinking.
And then, higher still, the Royal Balcony.
Cedric sat draped in white and gold, wine in hand, a cluster of grapes at his side. Beside him, Lady Elyria sat poised, her expression unreadable, though her eyes betrayed the tension between them.
Her voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the hum of the gallery. "So you surrounded the stage with lava. Deliberately stripping him of his element — a clear disadvantage."
Cedric didn't glance her way. He swirled his wine, eyes fixed on the molten haze rising from the ring.
Elyria's tone sharpened, though it never lost its regal poise. "After the impression he made in the last round, many among the nobility are divided already. Some see him as a curiosity, others as a threat. If you present such a blatant violation of fairness, you risk turning that division into unrest. Not all will agree to this."
Cedric said nothing. He didn't spare his daughter a glance eyes. His eyes fixed on the molten ring below.
This is no spectacle for the nobles. It is a measure. I want to see how far he can go when everything is set against him. His green eye will let him rise — it gives him just enough legitimacy for the crowd to believe in him. To whisper that perhaps a black-eyed peasant could stand among them.
Cedric's lips curved faintly as the lava glowed below.
But in the end, it is the black eye that will decide his place. When he faces Aoi — pure noble blood, born of their world — the outcome will restore the balance. His loss will not shame him; it will define him. The nobles will see order upheld. The commoners will see a limit they cannot cross. And I will have proven that even a boy who defies the system can be brought back into line.
The roar of the crowd dimmed as the announcer's voice boomed across the coliseum, carried by the echoing horns.
"Citizens of Yurelda, prepare yourselves! Our next match will see the return of the black-eyed contender — the runner-up who stood against Kaya herself and lived to tell it!"
The stands shook as voices crashed together, some cheering, others spitting curses.
"Entering the ring — Kazuo!"
The gates creaked open. Kazuo stepped out into blinding light — and froze.
The stage blazed before him, surrounded by a river of molten lava. It hissed and bubbled, spitting sparks that licked at the air. Heat pressed against his skin in suffocating waves. Even with Vortex, he realized, the heat would bleed the strength out of it.
Damn it… I should've predicted something like this.
The chant of the crowd dragged him forward. He forced his steps steady, eyes locked on the ring.
"And facing him — Rulthan! The man who ended his last match in mere minutes!"
The crowd erupted, some cheering his raw power, others recoiling at the memory of how quickly he had broken his opponent.
From the opposite gate, a giant of a man emerged. His blonde hair was shorn so close it was nearly bald, his chest bare beneath a brown vest. Muscles bulged across broad shoulders, crisscrossed by scars that gleamed under the torchlight. In his fist he carried a heavy iron-studded club, a cracked bell lashed to its head with wire. Every swing sent it rattling with a hollow chime that cut through the cheers.
The two men walked to the center of the ring, the lava casting their shadows long and warped.
Rulthan grinned, his voice carrying like gravel on stone. "So, gutter rat… I told you, you owe me for saving your skin. And now it's time to pay up."
Kazuo's hand went to his hilt. Steel whispered free of the scabbard as he drew his blade, and this time, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Setsuna caught it, his brow tightening. Strange… against Kaya he was dead serious. So why now — in the face of lava, no less — is he smiling? He should know exactly what this means. It isn't arrogance; he's not that foolish. No, this smile… it isn't born of pride. Then what is it…?
A slow breath left him. Thrill. He's actually enjoying the challenge.
The roar ebbed into silence. Every heartbeat held.
The tension coiled tight.
The gong sounded.