tide of golden-red flames erupted across the duel field like a solar storm unleashed. At its epicenter stood Yoriichi Tsugikuni, his form wreathed in fire that seemed to breathe with its own life. His eyes blazed with the color of a dying sun, pupils transformed into twin stars of devastating radiance.
"What is this!?" Cole Kong's voice cracked with disbelief. His hands trembled as he stared at the transformed warrior. Yoriichi had never hinted at such apocalyptic power. If Cole had known, he would have forfeited rather than face this walking inferno.
In the stands, the university representatives abandoned their note-taking entirely. Pens clattered to the floor as they leaned forward, mesmerized by the spectacle below.
"Why is there a fire ability?" The Imperial University representative's voice was barely a whisper. "Isn't this card's theme related to death and souls?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. The other representatives studied Yoriichi with the intensity of predators sizing up prey, their years of experience trying to categorize what they were witnessing.
"It seems to have some... solar feeling," the Heron Island University representative said slowly. His words carried weight—his university housed a diamond-level cardmaker who specialized in solar manipulation. After countless hours studying that master's work, he recognized the same terrifying aura now radiating from Yoriichi.
All eyes turned to him. The man's face was pale, his usual confidence shattered. After a tense moment, the Aurora University representative's expression shifted to one of pure shock. "It's actually true!"
The realization rippled through the stands like wildfire. They began to feel it themselves—the crushing weight of solar power that made their skin prickle with phantom heat.
"Does anyone know what the sun has to do with death?" The voice was small, almost childlike in its confusion—a lifetime of experience suddenly feeling worthless.
Heads shook in unison. These were seasoned professionals who had seen countless card combinations, but this defied everything they knew. Some frantically typed messages on their phones, updating their superiors about the impossible student below.
Only Mr. Stern from Northgate University looked like he was attending his own funeral. Russell, please stop showing off, he begged silently. Every display of power was another university ready to bankrupt themselves for this boy. For a twisted moment, he almost hoped Cole Kong would pull off a miracle victory—anything to keep Russell's talents hidden. But then reality hit him: if Cole could actually defeat this monster, every school would be hunting him instead.
On the sidelines, Russell remained oblivious to the chaos in the stands. The massive drain on his mental energy from Yoriichi's release left him feeling like his skull was splitting open. Fortunately, I can still hold on. Any normal bronze-level cardmaker would have collapsed by now, their mind shattered by the power coursing through their creation.
In the arena, Yoriichi felt the transformation complete itself. Power flooded through his veins like liquid sunlight. "This feeling is wonderful," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of revelation. With each breath, the golden-red flames responded, surging higher and brighter. Against the backdrop of the inferno, his eyes had become twin suns themselves, burning with divine purpose.
He studied the massive tree across from him with the patience of an executioner. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted into his stance. The very air seemed to hold its breath.
"In that case," he said, his voice carrying across the arena with frightening calm, "one move will be enough."
"Sun-Style: Solar Wheel · Hundred and Eight Blades!"
Time seemed to fracture.
Yoriichi's blade became a blur of motion, each strike carving through reality itself. In the space between heartbeats, he had unleashed hundreds of cuts, each one trailing ribbons of golden-red flame that screamed with the fury of a dying star. The torrent of fire and steel surged toward all three of Cole's cards with the inevitability of judgment day.
Cole's face went ashen as he stared at the approaching apocalypse. "Am I going to lose again?" The words tasted like ash in his mouth. This wasn't just bronze-level power—this was something that belonged in legends, not in a student tournament. His [Xunmu] tree, magnificent as it was, suddenly looked as fragile as paper before a hurricane.
Desperate vines erupted from the earth like reaching fingers, trying to form a barrier against the onslaught. They might as well have been trying to stop the sun itself. The golden-red flames consumed them instantly, turning them to ash before they could even slow the attack. [The Unbegotten] attempted to intervene but was swallowed whole by the inferno, its form dissolving like smoke.
[Armored Beast · Bo] managed to last a few precious seconds longer, its metallic hide reflecting the terrible light. But even it was nothing more than a speed bump before the endless tide of solar destruction.
Finally, the torrent of fire and steel slammed into the trunk of the [Xunmu] tree with the force of a meteor impact. The ancient wood, which had stood proud moments before, now burned with flames that seemed to reach toward the heavens themselves. The sight was both beautiful and terrible—a funeral pyre for a giant.
Russell watched the great tree burn, the golden-red flames reflected in his eyes like memories of another world. The scene stirred something deep in his memory, and he found himself muttering words from a game in his past life: "Even if the guidance has long been broken, please, become the Elden Lord."
The irony wasn't lost on him. This time, he was playing the role of the Flame of Frenzy, and he had just burned down the tree that connected worlds.
Shaking off the strange nostalgia, he knew the battle was over. Victory was his, but at a cost. "I have to tell Yoriichi not to make such a big scene next time," he thought, feeling like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his brain. Half of his mental energy had been consumed in that single, devastating attack.
In the stands, Shane—Russell's first-round opponent—watched the spectacle with a mixture of awe and despair. He had convinced himself that his loss was just bad luck, an information gap that had caught him off guard. But now, watching Yoriichi's true power unleashed, that comforting lie crumbled to dust. If Russell had used this move against him, there wouldn't have been enough left of Shane's cards to fill a teacup.
"But what are you going to do next, Russell?" he wondered aloud. Now that this trump card had been revealed, future opponents would come prepared. The element of surprise was gone forever.
On the sidelines, Cole Kong looked at Russell with something that might have been relief. The weight of competition was finally lifting from his shoulders. "You win again, Russell."
"If you hadn't met me, you could have been in the top three," Russell said. The words came without mockery—just honest acknowledgment of his opponent's skill.
But Cole shook his head, his expression resigned but not bitter. "If I lose, I lose. It's useless to find more excuses." His acceptance was complete, dignified in its finality.
Seeing that Cole had made peace with his defeat, Russell didn't push the conversation further. Some wounds healed better in silence.
Nearby, the cardmaker responsible for battlefield repairs stared at the smoldering crater that had once been an arena. Every time I encounter this student Russell, the battlefield gets completely wrecked, he thought with weary resignation. He was already calculating the overtime pay this would require.
Russell, blissfully unaware of the man's suffering, recalled his cards and headed back to the stands. When Liam spotted him, his eyes went wide with recognition and terror.
"Russell, is that your first card?" Liam's voice carried the weight of traumatic memory. Though Yoriichi looked the same, the difference in power was like comparing a candle to a nuclear reactor. Liam still had nightmares about his first encounter with the original Yoriichi.
Russell nodded slightly, confirming what they all suspected.
The confirmation hit Liam like a physical blow. His mind raced with desperate hope. "Then can my Minotaur also become a [Soul-Reaper · Ox-Head]?"
Russell glanced at him, measuring the question with the patience of a teacher dealing with a particularly slow student. After a moment of silence that felt like an eternity, he patted Liam on the shoulder with the gentleness reserved for the terminally naive.
"Don't dream about things that can't be realized."
Liam's face crumpled like a deflated balloon. Deep down, he had known it was impossible. Russell's upgrade of Yoriichi had only worked because the original story had a foundation in souls and death—themes that could be expanded upon. Liam's Minotaur was just a straightforward beast. There was no hidden mythology to unlock, no deeper meaning to explore.
Ignoring Liam's disappointment, Russell's mind was already moving to the next challenge. Yoriichi's Shikai has been exposed. I have to find a way to add some more cards to my arsenal.
The tournament was far from over, and now everyone knew what he was capable of. The real battle was just beginning.
(End of this chapter)
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