The referee raised his hand.
The entire stadium held its breath.
Raizen Voss stood tall and composed.
Yuzuki stood opposite him, one hand tucked casually into his pocket, his small frame relaxed beneath the blinding arena spotlights.
The size difference was immense.
And yet not a single person in the eighty-thousand-seat stadium believed Yuzuki was at a disadvantage.
Slowly, Raizen raised his right hand, placing his palm over his heart, and offered a deep, measured bow.
It was a gesture born from decades of traditional discipline.
"It is an honor to share this space with you, young prodigy," Raizen said, his deep baritone carrying clearly across the stone platform. "Let us have a meaningful dialogue today."
Yuzuki returned the bow, his smirk softening into a genuine, respectful smile.
"The honor is mine, old man," Yuzuki replied, his voice calm. "I've heard you're the best listener in the arena. Let's see if you can keep up with my voice."
The referee slashed his hand downward.
"BEGIN!"
Yuzuki vanished first.
CRACK!
The arena floor shattered beneath his feet.
He crossed the distance in a fraction of a second, moving with the supreme, relaxed efficiency of Systema.
A straight right punch exploded toward Raizen's face.
Behind his dark lenses, Yuzuki's Six Eyes flared to life.
Instantly, the world transformed into a canvas of shifting energy.
He analyzed Raizen's aura in a millisecond.
The old man's lifeforce wasn't expanding like an Emitter's.
It wasn't changing shape or texture like a Transmuter's.
It was a perfectly contained, perfectly circular shroud of pure, dense energy.
It felt fundamentally distinct from the standard five categories.
'He's a Specialist.'
Yuzuki's genius intellect dissected the anomaly instantly.
'The density is completely uniform, but the wavelength is erratic.'
'It's absorbing information from the environment.'
'I don't know what his specific Hatsu is yet, but his aura is acting like a sponge.'
The punch drew closer.
Raizen didn't flinch.
True to his reputation, he initiated Stage One: Observation.
He tilted his head.
The fist grazed the fabric of his collar.
Raizen's left hand rose immediately, fluid and weightless.
Yuzuki pivoted, transitioning into a sweeping low kick.
Raizen stepped backward, his movement microscopic.
The kick missed by mere centimeters.
Yuzuki spun.
Backfist.
Elbow.
Palm thrust.
Each strike flowed seamlessly into the next.
No wasted motion.
No hesitation.
Every attack carried the weight of Yuzuki's superhuman physical baseline.
Yet Raizen simply parried, blocked, and dodged.
THUD! THUD! CRACK!
Raizen's black-gloved hands deflected Yuzuki's strikes with impeccable efficiency.
He redirected the kinetic energy by mere millimeters.
He didn't counter.
He didn't flare his aura to attack.
He looked almost entirely passive, a ghost drifting through a storm of blows.
Down below, the exchange intensified.
Yuzuki launched a flurry of rapid-fire strikes aimed at Raizen's ribs and temple.
Raizen leaned back, the fabric of his white coat rustling as a palm strike missed his chin by a hair's breadth.
"Your movement is incredibly relaxed," Raizen remarked calmly mid-exchange.
His voice was completely steady as he parried a heavy hook.
"Where did you learn a flow that mimics the wind so perfectly?"
Yuzuki didn't answer.
He stepped inside, attempting to disrupt Raizen's footing with a sharp ankle trip.
Raizen simply lifted his foot, floating over the trap with terrifying patience.
He was watching everything.
He was reading muscle twitches.
He was reading weight shifts.
He was tracking breathing patterns.
The crowd exploded.
"They're so fast!"
"I can barely see them!"
"Floor Master Raizen isn't even striking back!"
On the VIP balcony, Bisky narrowed her eyes, her arms crossed tight.
"The old man is starting his download."
Wing adjusted his glasses, his expression remarkably grave.
"Yes. He's deliberately letting Yuzuki dictate the early pacing."
Zushi was gripping the railing, sweat beads forming on his forehead.
"Why isn't Yuzuki-san using his Hatsu?"
Bisky clicked her tongue.
"Because Yuzuki knows. The moment he reveals Limitless, Raizen will map the boundaries of his technique."
In the stands, Shalnark whistled, his fingers tapping against his phone.
"Raizen's defense is practically a art form. Look at his aura flow."
Pakunoda nodded slowly.
"He isn't fighting. He's reading."
Machi folded her arms, her sharp intuition spiking.
"Yuzuki knows it too. Look at his positioning. He's holding back."
Chrollo rested his chin on his hand, his dark eyes fixed entirely on the stone platform.
"…He's testing the structural limits of Raizen's observation."
Every exchange sharpened the tension in the air.
Yuzuki ducked under a non-existent counter, sliding backward across the floor.
His shoes carved two faint lines in the arena stone.
Smoke curled gently around his boots.
He smiled, but behind his sunglasses, his mind was racing through calculations at hyper-speed.
'He hasn't thrown a single offensive strike.'
'Not a punch, not a kick, not even an intentional push.'
'Every single movement he makes is purely reactive.'
'But it's too precise.'
'My Systema relies on unpredictability and relaxation, yet he's dodging by identical margins every time.'
Yuzuki adjusted his glasses.
'He's gathering data.'
'Every time I strike, his Specialist aura flutters in a specific sequence.'
'He's building a behavioral profile of my muscle contractions.'
'If I keep feeding him this baseline data, I'm walking directly into a trap.'
Yuzuki rushed him again, deliberately altering his rhythm.
He threw a deceptive left feint, instantly transitioning into a heavy right shoulder tackle.
BOOM!
Raizen crossed his arms, absorbing the impact perfectly.
The sheer force of the collision sent a visible shockwave rippling across the ring.
Raizen was pushed backward three meters, his boots sliding smoothly over the stone.
But his pulse didn't rise.
His expression remained a mask of absolute, unyielding serenity.
"A beautiful transition," Raizen murmured, his pale gold eyes locking onto Yuzuki. "You adjusted your weight mid-stride to mask the true trajectory. Truly fascinating."
Yuzuki lowered his stance, his muscles remaining loose, but his caution skyrocketing.
'His inability to panic is terrifying.'
'Even when I increase the output, his aura wavelength remains perfectly stable.'
'He's asking questions to see how I react verbally and emotionally.'
'He's watching my eyes behind these lenses.'
Yuzuki stood perfectly still, refusing to initiate the next exchange immediately.
The silence stretched across the shattered arena.
The eighty thousand spectators leaned forward, sensing the heavy psychological warfare taking place.
Yuzuki's mind worked furiously, dissecting the passive behavior of the veteran.
'Why isn't he attacking?'
'A twenty-year veteran Floor Master doesn't just stand there to be a punching bag.'
'There has to be a specific angle to this passivity.'
'Is his Hatsu entirely dependent on me striking him?'
'Or is he waiting for a specific threshold of data before he flips the switch?'
Yuzuki stared at the tall, broad-shouldered man in the white coat.
'Every second I spend moving against him feels like I'm handing him the keys to my house.'
'What are you looking for, old man?'
---
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