Dust hung over the ruined arena, thick enough to hide most of the crater from the spectators. The air smelled of pulverised stone, blood and the sharp heat left behind by Viktor's shattered Iron Verdict.
Inside the crater, only a few steps separated the two fighters.
Yuzuki stood with his head lowered and blood running steadily from his nose and ears. A piercing ring filled his skull, drowning out the roar of more than fifty thousand spectators. His balance shifted beneath him, and the blue clarity of the Six Eyes flickered beneath waves of grey.
Infinity had ended.
The five-second window was gone, leaving him at the beginning of another fifteen-second cooldown. His ribs were cracked, his breathing was shallow and the muscles around his spine trembled after the strain of the motionless step.
Across from him, Viktor Richter remained standing.
Dark bruises covered the veteran's chest, and each breath dragged painfully through his body. Blood stained his lips, but the Iron Tyrant's aura had not disappeared. The damaged flow around his sternum was already beginning to gather again as he tried to rebuild the spherical boundary of Quarantine.
Yuzuki's Six Eyes followed the repair process.
'Three seconds.'
That was all Viktor needed to form the field again. It might not return at full strength, but Yuzuki no longer had the aura or physical condition to test it. If Quarantine closed around Viktor once more, the fight would return to the same impossible problem. Only this time, Yuzuki's body would not survive another answer.
He did not reach for Red. The recoil would destroy his damaged arm and could tear through his already injured chest. He had forced Viktor's defence open through its existing rules, and he needed to finish the fight through those same rules.
Yuzuki stepped forward.
His Systema footwork remained loose and restrained, allowing him to move without twisting his damaged torso more than necessary. Viktor tried to raise his hands, but the returning pressure beneath his sternum had not yet settled. His stance was rigid, and his breathing was too broken to support another clean counter.
Yuzuki opened his right hand and placed the heel of his palm directly against the bruised centre of Viktor's chest.
A tiny point of Blue formed between them.
He did not use it to pull Viktor forward. Instead, he drew the remaining pressure gathered behind Viktor's sternum toward the exact point where his palm rested.
The result was not a powerful surface strike. Viktor's own stored force turned inward.
A deep impact travelled through his chest. His diaphragm spasmed, his stance broke and the pressure he had been trying to organise surged through his ribs and organs before his body was ready to contain it.
Blood burst from Viktor's mouth.
His knees bent, but the Iron Tyrant refused to fall. Twenty years of conditioning and forty-two successful Floor Master defences held his body upright even as his consciousness began to fade.
Yuzuki withdrew his hand and tried to step away.
Viktor moved first.
Instead of throwing another punch, the veteran opened both arms and lunged forward. His enormous frame closed around Yuzuki as the damaged remains of Quarantine contracted with him.
It was a final, desperate trap.
Viktor could no longer rebuild the complete field, so he was collapsing what remained of it around both of their bodies. If his arms closed, Yuzuki's momentum would disappear inside the shrinking space, leaving his cracked ribs and spine trapped against Viktor's chest.
The recoil might finish Viktor as well, but he had already accepted that price.
"Together," Viktor rasped as his arms swept inward.
Yuzuki could not duck. His ribs would not allow his torso to fold quickly enough. He could not jump backward before Quarantine caught his movement, and Infinity was still deep in its cooldown.
His body reacted before his thoughts could fully form.
'Move.'
The Six Eyes fixed on a point less than two metres behind Viktor's left shoulder. Yuzuki created a sharp point of Blue there and pulled with everything he could control.
This was not teleportation.
His body did not vanish and reappear without crossing the distance. He was violently dragged through the narrow opening beside Viktor faster than his stance and spine could safely support. For a fraction of a second, his feet left the floor and his body twisted through the air with none of the balance required to absorb the movement.
A sickening pop travelled through his lower back.
The muscles around his spine tore under the sudden change in direction. Blood rushed from his nose, and white pain flooded his vision as his body was pulled out from between Viktor's closing arms.
Viktor caught only empty air.
Yuzuki landed behind him with one knee nearly touching the floor. His legs shook so violently that he almost collapsed, and his left arm refused to rise. He had escaped the embrace, but the Blue-assisted skip had taken everything his body had left.
'That wasn't a technique. It was desperation.'
Trying it again in his current condition could leave him unable to walk.
Viktor began to turn.
Yuzuki forced himself forward before the veteran could recover. He used gravity and the last of his balance rather than trying to generate a powerful swing, placing a precise palm against the side of Viktor's jaw and neck.
The strike carried only enough Ryū to disrupt his balance and consciousness. After the damage already driven through Viktor's sternum, it was enough.
The Iron Tyrant's eyes lost focus.
His massive body fell forward and struck the shattered floor with a heavy crash. Dust rose around him, but his chest continued to move with slow, uneven breaths.
Yuzuki remained standing for another second before one leg buckled. He caught himself against a broken section of stone and looked toward the referee.
The official slid into the crater, checked Viktor's breathing and pulse, then raised one hand toward the arena.
"Knockout! The winner advancing to the Battle Olympia semifinals is Kagetsu Yuzuki!"
The crowd erupted.
The sound reached Yuzuki only as a distant vibration beneath the ringing in his ears. He did not raise his hands or attempt to celebrate. He stared down at Viktor, whose body had finally surrendered after his will had refused to do so.
Viktor had never underestimated him. He had understood each adjustment, changed his strategy without hesitation and forced Yuzuki to create an answer his own body was not ready to use.
A medical team entered the crater with two stretchers.
Yuzuki pointed toward Viktor before they could reach him. "Help him first."
One of the attendants hesitated after seeing the blood covering Yuzuki's face.
"I'm still awake," Yuzuki added, although remaining that way was becoming increasingly difficult. "He earned proper treatment."
The attendants moved toward Viktor while another medic placed an arm around Yuzuki's shoulders. His legs finally stopped cooperating, and he allowed himself to be lowered onto the second stretcher.
As the arena lights passed above him, he closed his eyes and listened to the endless ringing inside his head.
'Never again without preparation.'
---
Twenty minutes later, Bisky's fist struck a metal tray hard enough to send several instruments jumping into the air.
"Have you completely lost your mind?"
Yuzuki sat on an examination table while a medical Nen user studied the muscles surrounding his spine. His ribs had been bound, one arm rested in a sling and several thin lines of dried blood remained beneath his nose.
Wing stood near the doorway with a grim expression. Kastro remained beside the wall, his arms folded, although the tension in his shoulders revealed that he was no calmer than Bisky.
"You already had cracked ribs," Bisky continued, pointing at Yuzuki. "Then you forced dozens of tiny spatial pulls through an unstable stance and finished by dragging your entire body sideways. Do you understand what you did to your back?"
Yuzuki shifted slightly and immediately regretted it. Pain travelled from his lower spine into both hips.
"I have developed a fairly detailed understanding."
"You nearly tore the muscles holding your spine in place!"
"It was still better than being crushed."
"That does not make it a technique," Bisky snapped.
Yuzuki lowered his gaze. He had no clever reply to that. The movement had worked only because the alternative was immediate death, and even then, the difference between escape and paralysis had been terrifyingly small.
"I know," he admitted.
Bisky's anger faltered for a moment. She looked away, clenching her fists before the fear underneath her expression became too obvious.
A familiar voice came from the doorway.
"Necessity has a habit of showing people roads they are not ready to walk."
Netero entered with his hands tucked into his sleeves. His gaze moved over Yuzuki's bandages before settling on the area of his damaged spine.
"You caught the beginning of something useful," the Chairman said. "A short displacement built from your ability and exact positioning. But what happened in the arena was not mastery."
"My back already explained that part."
Netero gave a quiet laugh. "Good. Pain is an excellent teacher when it fails to kill the student."
Bisky glared at him. "Do not encourage him."
"I am doing the opposite." Netero's expression became more serious as he looked back at Yuzuki. "You found the seed of a future movement technique, but your body cannot support it yet. Your placement was rough, your landing was worse and your spine absorbed nearly all the correction. Repeat it carelessly and you may not stand afterward."
Yuzuki looked down at his hands. "Then I won't repeat it carelessly."
"That answer is exactly why she is angry."
Bisky made a sound of agreement.
On the television mounted along the corridor wall, the tournament bracket updated in bright gold lettering.
QUARTERFINAL RESULT
KAGETSU YUZUKI DEFEATS VIKTOR RICHTER
UP NEXT
CHROLLO LUCILFER VS. ORION DRAKE
The broadcast shifted to the arena entrance. Chrollo walked toward the ring in a dark coat with Skill Hunter held loosely at his side. His expression was calm and unreadable.
At the opposite entrance, Orion Drake studied several pages of notes while approaching the arena. The Hunter of Hunters had built his reputation on observing techniques, understanding their construction and reproducing weaker versions through Hunter's Archive.
Yuzuki watched both men enter.
He had survived Viktor, but the victory had left him with worsened ribs, torn muscles around his spine and an undeveloped movement he could not safely rely upon. The next fighter waiting for him would not be a walking fortress.
It would be either a man who learned from everything he witnessed or a thief who controlled what his opponent was allowed to learn.
Netero turned toward the doorway. "Rest while you can. The tournament will only become less forgiving from here."
Yuzuki leaned back carefully against the examination table as the arena bell rang through the television speakers.
---
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