"I'm really screwed…" Mike thought to himself.
Giel noticed the look on Mike's face, and suddenly his legs began to tremble.
"W-we'll be fine, r-right? You're a halfling, aren't you?"
Mike only nodded and shifted into a fighting stance.
Then trumpets blared. Music filled the air for a brief moment, then silence fell. A voice rang out—deep and commanding. The voice of the King.
"Welcome, citizens of King City! I have created this tournament to lift the spirits of our people. The warriors you see come from different regions, and all are strong. Do not underestimate anyone! Now, let me introduce them."
The King pointed to the first team, the slender pair.
"These are Snake and Ig. They are siblings—and together, a monster, believe me."
He turned his hand toward the broad warriors.
"Here stand Igor and Elus. They come from the battlefield itself. Both left pieces of themselves there—but undefeated by fate, they now stand here."
The King cleared his throat, then pointed at the massive solo fighter.
"And this… is Metal. They say a bullet once struck his skull—"
The King was interrupted. Metal himself stepped forward, his voice deep and menacing.
"I want someone to shoot my head. NOW!"
The King shrugged and nodded.
"Very well. Igor, you heard him."
Igor nodded, stepped away from Elus, and raised both arms. A silver point of light appeared between his hands. With terrifying speed, he fired it—so fast that the sound of the shot echoed seconds after it was already gone.
Puff—
The silver bullet slammed against Metal's skull. Dust exploded from the sandy ground, and the crowd went wild.
When the smoke cleared, Metal stood there. Only a few drops of blood ran down his head. He roared—and the spectators went mad. Mike had seen it clearly: the bullet had bounced off. It was no trick. He had truly taken it.
"Now, enough of that," the King declared. "Let the matches begin! Snake and Ig versus Igor and Elus!"
The two teams charged. Igor hung back—clearly a ranged fighter—while Ig threw himself into the melee.
"To be honest, I expected more… at least from Igor and Elus. Don't you think?" Giel tapped Mike's shoulder, speaking with a nervous laugh.
Mike finally noticed—Giel had black hair and one bright blue eye.
What are his abilities? Mike wondered. What magic can he use? How much mana does he even have?
The battle ended. Igor alone remained, bloodied but standing. The King raised his voice in triumph.
"And Igor stands as the last man! A worthy fighter!"
The people roared with joy.
But Mike's eyes wandered—to the King's daughter. She was breathtaking, but she wasn't cheering. Her gaze was empty, almost sad. Mike's heart pulled toward her, but his attention was ripped back as he suddenly heard:
"BEGIN!"
Metal charged straight at Giel.
"Smart… he's targeting the weakest first." Mike thought.
But before Metal could reach him, Mike appeared in a blur, planting a crushing kick into Metal's stomach. The giant flew across the arena and slammed into the wall. The stone cracked, dust billowed, and rocks rained down.
Then—a surge of aura burst out of the smoke. It was Metal. Around his skull now burned a gray energy.
"It strengthens his iron head… careful, Giel. …But why would the King put Giel here? He's the weakest I've ever—"
Metal rammed Mike with devastating force, sending him crashing through the arena wall. Mike hit the stone, blood dripping from his nose. But in the next instant, he blurred back to Giel's side.
The crowd gasped in awe.
"Good job, Metal. You really are a hardhead."
Metal charged again, head lowered. Mike dodged swiftly. The man's attacks were simple—but each one grew faster.
"I've got an idea…"
Mike stopped retreating, planted his feet, and clenched his fist. At the last moment, he opened his hand.
A storm of fire erupted, blasting into Metal's clothes and burning his head.
"That was only a taste… but this will hurt."
Mike leapt, spun, and crossed his legs in midair. Both heels smashed into Metal's face.
CRACK!
The sound was so loud that birds scattered from the area. Even White, waiting outside, raised his head.
Metal flew and flew, crashing against the far wall.
"Maybe… a bit too much. Sorry about that."
Mike raised his hand and wiped the blood from his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Igor kneel in surrender, speaking with the King. But the King wasn't even listening. He stared, stunned.
Finally, he stammered:
"H-how… how did you…?"
Mike tilted his head, stretched his arms casually, and smirked.
"King, I've got a question. How can you speak so loud that everyone hears you? That's crazy cool!"
The King fell silent.
"G-good… Mike and, uh, Giel are the winners. C-congratulations! We should… no wait… Giel, do you wish to fight?"
The King stammered, clearly unsettled.
Giel smirked, lifting his chin toward the throne.
"Yes. I want to."
The battle began immediately.
Giel raised his arms—and to Mike's shock, he copied Igor's technique. Two silver bullets shot forth at lightning speed.
"Woah—!"
Mike ducked just in time. Thanks to his halfling blood, his perception of the world was sharper than most—he could feel the trajectory, even if he didn't know exactly where the attacks came from.
The bullets whizzed past him, but then—three more followed, screaming toward the ground at his feet.
"He's a ranged fighter too? Why is he only showing his real power now? What the hell are his abilities!?"
Mike twisted his body and rolled aside as the bullets slammed into the arena floor, kicking up dust. Giel was already preparing another volley.
Mike raised one hand.
A white glow shimmered in front of his palm, then erupted—an explosion of pure light burst out in every direction. The arena was blinded by it.
Forced to break his attack, Giel clutched his eyes. By the time he blinked through the dazzle, Mike was right in front of him.
BAM!
A punch to the stomach. Blood spurted from Giel's mouth.
Then another strike. And another. Mike's fists became a blur, hammering Giel's abdomen. Finally, Mike spun and launched a brutal kick.
But Giel wasn't done. With desperate speed, he caught Mike's foot with both hands, blocking the finishing blow. Giel roared and countered with a strike to Mike's gut—
—but Mike only grinned.
"Not strong enough."
Above Giel, two glowing lines of fire appeared, floating like seals. Suddenly they expanded, etching themselves across his entire torso.
"Demon Flame — Branding Mark!"
The symbols ignited in an instant. Fire exploded across Giel's body, scorching him in a blazing inferno.
He screamed and collapsed to the floor, smoking and writhing.
"Mike is the winner!" the King announced, his voice triumphant.
The crowd erupted.
Mike, however, looked at Giel with pity.
"You miscalculated, man. You thought I'd be weakened after fighting Metal, didn't you? Don't worry… the burns will fade in a day. No scars. Nothing permanent."
Escorted from the arena, Mike was led back into the throne hall.
The King leaned forward.
"Now, Mike… ask me the question you wished to know."
Mike opened his mouth.
"Alright, we—"
CRASH!
The doors behind them exploded open.
Everyone froze.
There stood Metal—his massive body still smoking, his aura burning with rage. The guards outside lay strewn across the hall, unconscious or dead.
Metal's voice thundered with hatred.
"Mike… HERE there are no rules! I… will KILL you!"
Mike spun, his body tensing.
But—