Kazuo's body shook as he forced his palms flat against the marble. His ears screamed, blood trailing down his jaw, vision spinning like the whole arena had been hurled sideways. His sword trembled in his grip.
The crowd murmured like a single breath.
"It's over."
"He can't even stand—"
Up in the Gallery, Vaskel laughed aloud, teeth flashing. "Look at him—this is as far as filth can go."
Idris exhaled smoke through his nose.
And Setsuna — silent, Damn it, Kazuo… you have to get up somehow.
—
Kazuo's knees buckled again. His head dipped, the world tunneling in and out of black.
I am loosing conciousness
And then — a faint sound, too soft to be the crowd.
A voice.
Faint. Somewhere beyond the haze of ringing and pain.
…Whose voice is that?
The fog pulled him back—years, decades, to a fire crackling in a cramped little home.
Gramps…?
The boy's voice was small, muffled by the crackle of firewood. He stood there in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes.
Gramps looked up from his chair, setting the book aside. "What is it, Kazuo? Why are you still up so late?"
Kazuo's lip trembled. "I… I couldn't sleep. I feel so alone."
Gramps rose, his steps slow but steady. "But I'm right here."
Kazuo shook his head, voice cracking. "No… it's not the same. Why does nobody wanna be friends with me?"
The old man's expression softened. He knelt, arms opening. "Come here."
He stepped forward, and the warmth of those arms closed around him.
"Listen, Kazuo," Gramps murmured against his hair, voice low and steady. "Whenever you are lonely, recall my voice. I'm always there." He held him tighter, firm as a promise. "You are my pride and joy. Don't forget that."
The memory burned steady, even against the roar of sound still crushing him.
Kazuo's eyes opened. His body screamed, his arm felt like lead—but his legs pushed. Slowly. Barely. But they pushed.
And he stood.
Rulthan's shadow loomed. His club swinging down in a brutal arc.
Kazuo raised his blade. Steel met iron—
And shattered.
The sword split like glass, fragments spinning away.
But Kazuo gritted his teeth and drove forward, using the recoil of the impact to snap his hands together.
"Water Magic: Riptide Cutter!"
A beam shrieked from his palms, compressed water hissing as the arena's heat boiled it sharp. The blast carved forward like a scythe of liquid light—
SLASH.
Rulthan's club split clean in half, the molten edge of the cut glowing where steel had given way.
The brute's eyes widened, fury snapping across his face.
Kazuo staggered, chest heaving, his palms steaming from the heat. His weapon was gone, but the attack had landed.
He had cut through steel.
His gaze fell to the shattered blade lying across the marble, fragments glinting in the steam.
Sorry, Gramps… His breath rasped, thin but steady. But your sword saved me from that last hit.
He swayed, legs trembling, every motion sluggish. Still, he pushed himself upright, defiance burning through the haze.
From the squad stands, voices rang out in disbelief.
Sora's gasp cut sharp. "His sword… it broke!!"
Tetsu shoved his glasses up, voice cracking, desperate. "Y-yes… but in return he cut through Rulthan's weapon!"
Across the haze, Rulthan flexed his burned hand. He glared at the remains of his weapon and threw it at the ground, then at Kazuo.
A sharp tch hissed through his teeth while trowing his broken club on the ground. "So… we're both without weapons now. But don't think for a second I need steel to crush you, gutter rat. My sound doesn't need a club to reach you."
He rolled his shoulders, the air around his fists already humming with vibration.
He drew in a long breath. The air around him pulsed.
"Sound Magic: Resonant Fist."
The space quivered with each slow clench of his hand, vibrations spilling outward like the hum of a struck gong.
Kazuo winced, his hands pressing hard over his ears. The high-pitched ringing from Dirge Breaker still hadn't faded. His vision blurred, every breath jagged.
Rulthan smirked coldly. "Seems my Arcane's finally sinking in. Your hearing's ruined. And the sound's still inside you… rattling your bones, eating you alive."
He came forward, each step carrying that low, dreadful hum.
Kazuo's breath tore ragged from his chest.
He clapped both hands together — steam cracking at the impact.
"Water Magic: Riptide Cutter!"
From his fingertips erupted a needle-thin beam of compressed water, shrieking as the heat around it boiled the edges razor sharp. It carved forward like a streak of liquid light, slicing through the haze.
Rulthan didn't slow. His body wove through the beam's reach.
Kazuo twisted, forcing the beam upward in a desperate arc. It licked across Rulthan's jaw, enough to jolt his head back—
—but then the brute's fist hammered down.
SNAP.
White-hot pain tore through Kazuo's arm as the bone gave. His body slammed against the marble, rolling across the floor. Blood smeared in his wake.
From the gallery, Vaskel nearly screamed with joy. "Yes!! Break this filth completely apart!" He glanced sidelong at Setsuna, hungry for a reaction.
But Setsuna didn't look at him. His eyes never left Kazuo.
Kazuo forced himself upright, swaying, his right arm hanging broken. Argh—damn it… with a broken arm I can't even use Riptide Cutter…
In the stands, Sora's claws dug into the railing. "Why is he still not using his Arcane!?"
Aoi's gaze shifted, cool and detached.
Tetsu muttered, "Maybe… he knows he's only got one shot. If he misses—" He cut himself short.
On the field, Rulthan's teeth bared as he glared at Kazuo. Yes… this is what I want. Show me. Show me despair.
But Kazuo's eyes lifted—unyielding, burning.
Rulthan snarled, voice cracking. "Your weapon's gone. Your arm is broken. You're bleeding out! Why are you still not—DESPAIRING, GUTTER RATS!?"
Kazuo's lips parted, a ragged whisper slipping out. "…Just like before. Why is he shaking like this?"
Think, Kazuo. Back then he saved me...but now he calls me "gutter rats," raging about despair. He was detached before, shaking his head. Something happened to him. Something in the past. What if...
A thought clicked in his mind
I have to put everything I've got into this last attack. It's a gamble. Sorry, Setsuna… I know you told me not to gamble. But I have no choice.
His grin cut sharp through the blood. "It hurts, doesn't it?"
Rulthan's eyes widened, fury cracking. "What… what did you say?"
From the stands, silence stretched—until Aoi's voice cut in, calm and cold. "…He won."
Tetsu whipped toward him. "He hasn't lost yet! kazuo is still standing."
Aoi's eyes never left the haze. "I'm not talking about Kazuo losing."
Tetsu blinked in confusion and his gaze went back to Kazuo.
Confusion rippled through the captains' gallery. Zahari muttered, "What is he doing?" Idris exhaled smoke. "He's provoking him. Baiting Rulthan on purpose."
Beside them, Setsuna leaned forward, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. That's so unlike him… but he figured it out.
Down below, Kazuo's grin sharpened, cocky despite his bloodied face."How does it feel… to be beneath me? A gutter rat."
Rulthan's eyes snapped wide, rage consuming him but his voice was filled with pain. "Shut up! SHUT UP, GUTTER RAT! Know your place!!"
He lunged, every step a quake—wide open in fury.
Kazuo's grip tightened. His breath steadied. Gramps… lend me your strength.
"Arcane of Water—Vortex!"
The spell erupted point-blank beneath Rulthan's guard, boiling spiral bursting upward. Smaller than it should have been, compressed by the lava's heat—yet sharper, hotter, crueler for it.
The vortex hurled Rulthan skyward, shredding him in searing cuts and burns. He twisted once in the air, his roar drowned in boiling magic, before the spiral collapsed and gravity seized him.
CRACK.
He slammed flat on his back, marble fracturing beneath him, steam curling from scorched lines carved into his skin. His eyes rolled, mouth slack—unconscious.
Silence.
Rulthan, the wall of sound, had fallen.
Then the announcer's voice cracked across the colosseum, trembling with disbelief:"Rulthan is unconscious and unable to battle… the winner is—Kazuo!"
The crowd erupted, a roar so loud it shook the marble beneath their feet.