The marble floor was cracked, steam curling upward where Rulthan still lay sprawled.
Kaya tilted her head, one hand brushing her chin. "So… he had an Arcane after all," she muttered. A small smile tugged at her lips before she clicked her tongue. "Tch." Then she turned on her heel and strode away, cloak dragging dust in her wake.
Vaskel remained frozen. His hair, once immaculate, hung ruined and damp across his brow. His jaw twitched, eyes wide as if refusing to grasp what had happened. Rage boiled across his face, teeth grinding audibly.
A low laugh broke from the gallery. Setsuna leaned back against the railing, shoulders shaking. "What's wrong, Vaskel? Did you blink and miss it?"
Vaskel's nostrils flared. For a moment, it seemed he might snap back — but no words came. He turned sharply on his heel, cloak whipping behind him, and left the gallery without a sound.
Setsuna's laughter lingered, echoing above the roar of the crowd.
The other captains didn't share his amusement. Garou folded his arms, a grin splitting his face. "He actually did it. That behemoth's down. Even Rhakka couldn't manage that."
Idris exhaled smoke through his nose, gaze drifting from Kazuo to the squad stands — and stopping on Aoi.
The roar of nobles exploded from below the gallery. Cheers, applause, voices rising in unison — the same nobles who had spat at Kazuo days ago now stood to cheer him. Their voices merged into one clamor of approval, as though he had already been accepted among their own.
On the Royal Balcony, Cedric did not rise. His glass sat untouched at his side. "Interesting," he murmured. "He found a win condition — and twisted the disadvantage I set before him into victory."
His gaze shifted, cool and decisive.
My goal is accomplished. The nobles cheer your name, Kazuo. They see you now as one of their own. With this, the fire of revolt among them is smothered. They will not rise against me.
But you still carry that black eye. A mark that no crown decree can erase. If you were to claim victory over every full-blooded noble in this tournament, the illusion would shatter. The nobles would see themselves humbled by one they deem beneath them. And the lower class — they would seize upon it, a symbol that their chains can be broken. That spark would fan into an uprising neither crown nor steel could contain.
That is why you must fall. Against Aoi, you will be broken. He is the wall I have placed before you. By losing, you are given a place under the crown — acknowledged, but bound. By winning, you would set fire to the kingdom itself. I will not allow it.
In the squad stands, chaos reigned.Sora was on her feet, tail twitching, her voice carrying above the crowd. "HE DID IT! HA—DID YOU SEE THAT?!" She shook Tetsu by the shoulders until his glasses nearly flew off.Tetsu groaned, trying to fix them. "S-Sora, please—focus! We should be watching—" But even he couldn't hide the tremor in his voice. His eyes slid toward Aoi.
Aoi remained still, arms folded. Yet for the briefest moment, his eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction. Then he rose and left the stands without a word.
Lyria startled them both when she suddenly wrapped her arms around Sora in excitement. "He won! Can you believe it?!" She caught herself, released quickly, and turned away with a cough. "I-I mean… of course he won. He managed to force me out of the ring, after all…"
Sora's grin only widened.
Down below, Kazuo remained upright — barely. His broken arm hung limp, his breath a slow rasp. His gaze drifted toward Rulthan's battered form.
It wasn't arrogance or pity. It was understanding.
Then his knees gave way.
The world tilted, and Kazuo collapsed onto the fractured marble, consciousness slipping away as the colosseum roared his name.
Kazuo's eyes opened to a familiar ceiling. The infirmary.
It was night. The lamps along the wall burned low, shadows stretching long across the floor. His ears still rang faintly, a dull ache threading through his skull. But his arm—he flexed it slowly—was whole. The recovery mage had healed him completely.
"…Don't worry. The sound will fade soon."
Kazuo turned. Another bed stood beside his own. Rulthan lay there, bandaged across his chest and arms, his frame wrapped tight. His eyes were fixed upward, unblinking.
Kazuo didn't ask why Rulthan was there. Didn't waste words on it. His voice was low, steady."Why did you give up?"
Rulthan's throat worked as he swallowed. His bandaged hands curled slowly against the sheets, knuckles whitening. He said nothing.
Kazuo's gaze stayed fixed on him. "…Even with Vortex, you should still have been standing." His tone sharpened, cutting through the quiet. "You let it end."
The silence pressed down like a weight, thicker than the walls themselves. To the crowd, it had been victory. But Kazuo knew better. He hadn't truly won. Rulthan had surrendered.
At last, Rulthan's lips moved. "…Because you didn't."
The words hung heavy between them.
Kazuo leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What exactly happened, Rulthan?"
Rulthan turned his head slightly. "…You hit me. I fell. That's what happened."
Kazuo cut him off, voice sharp. "You know I'm not talking about that. I mean in the arena. Before. When you kept shaking. What happened in the past?"
Silence
Rulthan inhaled slowly, eyes still pinned to the ceiling. His voice rasped, reluctant."…I grew up in the lower crescent. My family lived among commoners."
Kazuo leaned slightly forward. "You lived in the lower crescent?"
Rulthan's lips pressed thin, then loosened."…Yeah. I had friends there. Even black-eyed slaves — like you. Back then I thought all this eye-color crap was bullshit."
His bandaged fists tightened against the sheets, muscles straining."…One day, a friend I trusted all my life told me to come play. My parents always said—never trust them. I didn't listen."
His breath came sharp, rough."Then suddenly they were there. Five of 'em. All at once. They jumped me. Pinned me down. Ripped the clothes off my back. Laughed while I clawed naked at the dirt. Dragged me through the gutter like a rat."
His voice thickened, low and jagged. "We ate together. Grew up together. And then he decided I had to pay — because I was a noble. Because of these damn green eyes. They held me down, he took a blade, and carved this into me while the others screamed 'gutter rat.'"
Rulthan lifted a hand, fingers brushing the scar beneath his bandages. His touch lingered there, hard and bitter. "This scar on my eye… it's his mark. A reminder of what I was. What they made me. Every time I look in the mirror, I see him. Hear them."
The words came like gravel ground against stone.
He let his hand fall back to the sheets. "After that, we left the lower crescent. Never saw him again. All I heard was that they got sold off to some other land or whatever."
Kazuo was listening.
"When I heard someone was training under Setsuna… with a black eye…" His lip curled into something between a sneer and a snarl. "It was like my past came crawling back. I couldn't separate you from it. That's why I called you gutter rat."
Rulthan snorted, shifting on the bed, wood creaking under his weight."…In the battle royal, I pulled you out on instinct. Old scars. Didn't wanna see it happen again."
His head finally turned, his eyes cutting toward Kazuo. "You played your gamble well. But when you said it—'how does it feel to be beneath me'—" his teeth clenched, "—it threw me straight back into the gutter. All I saw was red."
The silence thickened, broken only by the hiss of the lamps.
All I ever knew was oppression and injustice, Kazuo thought, staring at him. But since meeting Kaya… and now him… I see the truth. This system doesn't just crush from above — it plants hatred on every side. Kaya was indoctrinated to despise. Rulthan was betrayed by the ones he trusted. That's how they keep us broken.
The silence stretched until Rulthan spoke again. His voice was rough, but steadier."…Why did you join?"
Kazuo glanced at him, but didn't answer.
Rulthan huffed through his nose. "I'm not an idiot. I know you probably didn't have a choice. But in the arena—why didn't you yield? What kept you driving forward?"
His eyes cut sideways. "…Was it to change the system?"
Kazuo shook his head. His answer came quiet, but certain."The only reason I don't yield… is because I want to go back. To my simple life. To Gramps. Nothing more."
For a moment, Rulthan just stared. Then a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, breaking into laughter.
Kazuo frowned. "…Hey. What's so funny?"
Rulthan wiped at the corner of his eye with a bandaged hand, brushing away a tear born of laughter. "I never thought you'd be so selfish."
Kazuo blinked, taken aback. "…Selfish?"
Still smirking, Rulthan pushed himself up, his frame shifting under the bandages."I'm not as badly hurt as you. The recovery team already healed my wounds. Guess I'll take my leave." He swung his legs to the floor and rose, slow but steady. At the doorway, he glanced back once.
"See you around… Kazuo."
For the first time, he spoke the name instead of spitting "gutter rat."
Then he left, the quiet settling behind him like smoke.
Kazuo sat in the silence, staring at the empty doorway. If I'd met him back then… maybe we could've been friends. Maybe it wouldn't have turned out like this.
He shook his head. No. There are no what-ifs. Not in this world.