Belto drove the rest of the team down a side road, the van rattling as it cut away from the arena where Mokoto was about to face the Seven. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles whitened. His mind replayed Mokoto's words before heading into the river crossing, words that still stung: "Just watch me."
Belto's jaw clenched. His frown deepened until the corners of his lips twitched with anger.
Who the hell does that bastard think he is? Ordering us around like that…
In the back seat, Rin broke the silence. He had his arm thrown lazily across the seat rest, his eyes carrying a rare spark of optimism. "Mokoto's really gotten stronger. I bet he can hold his own. Don't you think?"
Ninda, seated near the window, smirked ever so slightly. Her tone was calm, almost detached, but carried a weight of recognition. "Mokoto is the type to adapt quickly. His ability to adapt is… adaptive in itself. If I didn't know better, I'd say he has no limit."
Haruko leaned forward immediately, his grin wide, voice bursting with unshakable faith. "I knew it! Mokoto's gonna beat their leader's ass. I never doubted him for a second!"
Their words floated around the car, carrying sparks of hope that—just for a moment—made the air lighter. Faces that had been rigid with anxiety softened with smirks.
But then Belto laughed.
It wasn't a warm laugh. It wasn't amused. It was sharp, mocking, the kind of laugh that cut hope in half. The van grew tense instantly. Everyone turned to him with confusion and irritation.
"What's so funny?" Takumi snapped, his tone edged with anger.
Belto glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his smirk razor-thin. "You guys really don't know what you're facing up against, do you? Me and Sakura had insight into the Seven's Standz abilities and pressures. As their assistants, we were entrusted with that honor."
He tilted his head slightly, enjoying the weight of their attention. "I thought you might want to know just a little bit of what that moron Mokoto is walking himself into."
That hooked them.
"Wait—you have insight into the Seven's powers?" Raito leaned forward, his eyes wide with shock and curiosity.
Sakura, however, snapped her head toward Belto with a furious glare. "Hey! Belto, we aren't allowed to share that information. What are you doing?"
"Oh, I know." Belto waved a hand dismissively, not taking his eyes off the road. "I'm just telling them the basics. It wouldn't hurt. And I promise not to reveal the actual abilities—I'm not stupid. Relax."
Sakura frowned, exhaling through her nose as she turned back to the window, refusing to engage further.
Miwafe, however, lost interest immediately. She crossed her arms, her voice flat. "If you can't tell us their abilities, then what's the point? Save your breath."
Belto chuckled under his breath. "Fine. Let me phrase it differently. How high do you think the leader of the Seven—Mr. Saito's—Standz pressure is? You can answer that, the boss of Region 143. Old man."
That name dropped like a weight in the van. Raito's brows furrowed as he thought carefully. "So his name is Saito, huh? Well, let me think… It's obviously country level. If they're the strongest, and country-level is the highest tier we know of, then that has to be it."
Belto smirked. "Wrong."
The single word chilled the air. Everyone turned to him in confusion.
"Wait—so it's weaker than that?" Haruko asked, his hope bubbling again.
Yana clapped her hands together. "Then Mokoto can actually win this!"
Belto cut her off harshly, his voice sharp as a blade. "Shut up, you idiots. His Standz pressure is galaxy level. Do you see now?"
The van fell silent. Not silent like before—but suffocatingly silent.
Miwafe's hands trembled as she tried to mask her fear with a scoff. "That… that has to be a lie. Right? It's impossible…"
Nobody answered her.
Meanwhile, in the arena, the Seven had gathered like gods upon their thrones. Their eyes bore down on Mokoto, who now stood across from Saito, the leader himself.
Hina tilted her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger with a playful smirk. "You know what? That Mokoto guy is kinda hot. Now that I see him properly. Last time, he was beaten and chained, so I couldn't really get a good look."
Akari rolled his eyes, his expression was one of disbelief. "Is that really all you can say? I guess you'll never change. Always an eye for beauty, never for the danger in front of you."
Hotaru adjusted her glasses, her voice clinical yet dense with layered vocabulary. "In spite of the acerbic linguistic constructs once deployed in reference to us as women, the subsequent act of extending pardon toward him evidences a paradoxical but undeniable cognitive dissonance, wherein the very capacity to absolve contradicts and yet simultaneously validates the existence of an affective core whose magnitude is measured not by the severity of prior transgressions but by the elasticity of its moral forbearance."
Silence.
Hina blinked at her blankly. "…Thanks, I guess?"
Hotaru returned to adjusting her notes, unfazed.
From the corner, Renzo chuckled, turning toward Haruka. "Hey, Haruka—what do you think? Is Hina right about Mokoto?"
Haruka gave him a dead-eyed stare, slumping back into his chair with the aura of a man long since drained of joy. "Who cares? I just want to go home."
But then the air thickened. A pressure, raw and primal, radiated from Ryūjin. His lips curled back, saliva dripping slightly as his bloodlust swelled like a storm about to break.
Akari's tone sharpened instantly. "Ryūjin. Don't even think about it. If you act now, Saito will be furious."
Ryūjin's eyes never left Mokoto. "But the bastard's right there… I could end it now."
"Calm down," Akari ordered. His words, cold and cutting, eventually pressed him back into his seat. "Fine," he growled, though his hands still twitched for violence.
Renzo leaned forward, his smile fading for once. "You guys notice? Those two have been staring at each other for a while now. The atmosphere's getting… heavy."
The Seven followed his gaze.
Mokoto and Saito stood locked in silence. Eyes unblinking. Neither moved. The entire arena was hushed, as if waiting for the spark to set fire to the storm.
But then—
Saito blinked. His red eyes watered from the strain.
"Oh, you won, huh? Damn, you're good at staring contests," Saito said casually.
Mokoto's face twisted in confusion. "Wait—what? I wasn't… I didn't… Did you think we were having a staring contest?"
Saito tilted his head, perfectly serious. "Yeah. I thought it was a fun game before the fight."
Mokoto nearly fell over. "What—no! It was a stare down! I thought you were sizing me up!"
Saito laughed, his voice booming across the arena. "Either way, you won. Now let's get this show on the road."
The crowd stirred as Saito stepped into the main battlefield. The arena floor stretched wide, scarred with the marks of countless duels. Mokoto followed, his steps heavy but determined.
"I guess it's started," Renzo said with a giggle.
Above, Mokoto's team appeared on the viewing platform—everyone except Belto and Sakura.
"Mokoto!!!" Raito shouted. His voice carried across the arena. "Kick his ass! We're here if you need us!"
Mokoto looked up, his lips curving into a faint smile. He nodded before turning back to Saito, focus sharpening.
"Any rules I should know about?" he asked.
Saito folded his arms, not even bothering to take a stance. His laugh rumbled like thunder. "This is a fight, not a contest or a tournament. You just fight. That's it. Now—show me what you've got."
From above, Raito's stomach twisted. His thoughts raced: Mokoto, please… don't do anything reckless. If it's true that Saito's Standz pressure is galaxy level, he could win every battle without moving a muscle. He could crush opponents to death with his aura alone. But Mokoto… Mokoto doesn't have Standz pressure. He can't even sense it. That might be his only chance.
Raito's fist clenched tight. Beside him, Ninda noticed, her eyes flicking to his trembling hand. She said nothing, only turned back to the fight.
The arena fell still.
Neither moved.
Saito raised an eyebrow. "Ummm… aren't you going to attack me?"
Mokoto frowned. "As if. I don't know what you can do. Charging blindly would be suicide. I'll wait for you to make the first move."
Saito's lips curled into a smile. Smart kid, he thought. Just like Kyoka. Back in the day, Kyoka kept nullifying my Standz powers, so we always fought with nothing but our fists. Maybe I'll honor that tradition now.
He lowered his Standz energy entirely. No abilities. Just straight hands.
"Well then," he said, cracking his neck. "If you want me to charge first—here I come."
In an instant, Saito vanished.
Mokoto's eyes widened. His body screamed danger, but his brain couldn't even process the movement. All he registered was a blur, and then—
A kick. Straight for his face.
His hands shot up on pure reflex, catching the leg, but the force rattled his bones. That speed—!
Before he could adjust, another kick came, aiming for the back of his skull. He barely ducked in time—only to take a third kick to the gut. The impact ripped the air from his lungs, sending him flying across the battlefield. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he skidded, gasping.
So fast… that's not Standz ability. That's his natural speed. He's faster than me.
From above, his teammates froze in horror.
Mokoto pushed himself up, wiping the blood from his mouth. His stance wavered but didn't break. His eyes sharpened with renewed resolve.
But I can't give up.