The trail that led Kagetori and Raidō was thin as a spiderweb — ephemeral remnants of reality manipulation left by the Organizer. It led them through zones of the Colony where time flowed backwards and sound froze into crystals. And that trail led them straight to the blazing "Hunter's Mark."
They emerged at the edge of another "game hall," where dice the size of houses rolled across a field, changing gravity. And at the center of this madness, atop a giant deck of cards, sat he who held a glowing key in his hand, examining it like just another chip.
Kagetori froze. Not because of the key. Because of the one holding it.
"Jintarō," his voice sounded low and even, but held not a drop of warmth.
Jintarō slowly turned his head, and a smirk full of caustic triumph spread across his face.
"Reiden-sensei!" he shouted, spreading his arms. "What a meeting! You look... tired from your noble burden. Has the weight of responsibility for this boring world not bent you?"
He tossed the key and caught it.
"Don't you want to play? Your soul... against my key! Exceptional stakes!"
Kagetori did not move. His golden eyes, usually full of either mockery or rage, looked at Jintarō with something much heavier — deep disappointment.
"You're squandering your gift," he uttered, and each word fell like a stone. "On these... empty games. I saw a fire in you capable of illuminating the path. And you're content with burning other people's straw huts."
Raidō, standing slightly apart with his eternal icy indifference, finally voiced his assessment:
"This noisy pup... his energy signature is on the level of those two. But his methods... are disgusting. There is no order in them, no purpose. Only chaos."
Jintarō laughed as if he'd heard the best joke.
"Order? Purpose? Boring!" He jumped off the card deck, and the cards scattered like a fan. "You know what's truly fun? Watching order fall to pieces."
And he didn't attack them. He began to provoke.
"Kokurō: Fate's Roulette. Red. Provocation!" he snapped his fingers towards Raidō.
Nothing happened. But the icy guardian suddenly felt his own Scar of cold momentarily distort and... aim not at Jintarō, but at Kagetori. It was a microscopic malfunction, which Raidō immediately suppressed, but his gaze at Jintarō became even colder.
"Kokurō: Dice Throw. Critical Failure!" this time Jintarō pointed at Kagetori.
The ground under Reiden's feet suddenly turned into quicksand, trying to suck him in. It was a trifle, but it made him lose his concentration for a second.
His goal was clear — to pit the two titans against each other, to turn their shaky alliance into a tangle of rage and mutual suspicion. He darted between them like a jester, his techniques causing no damage but sowing discord, forcing them to defend not against him, but against each other.
"Stop this, Jintarō!" growled Kagetori, deflecting an ice needle that Raidō instinctively released in response to another provocation.
But Jintarō only laughed. His glee was sincere. That was his victory.
Suddenly, the air trembled with a roar. A new hunter burst onto the arena. It was Dokuji "Iron Pot," a berserker-absorber. His massive figure, covered in scars from absorbed attacks, stomped across the game fields, devouring random techniques and building up his already monstrous power. He was drawn by the "Mark" and the concentration of strong energy.
His appearance shattered Jintarō's delicate game. This was no longer a controlled provocation, but a real threat.
Jintarō grimaced.
"Ruined the whole atmosphere. Well then..." He looked at the fighting Kagetori and Raidō, at the approaching Dokuji, and his smirk returned. "Seems it's time to change the rules."
He took a step back, and a fire ignited in his eyes not of mischief, but of strategic genius.
"The system... is always the most boring part of any game. Let's hack it."
He raised his hand, and the two keys in his possession flared up.
"Kokurō: Winning Round! The bet is a breach!"
He didn't attack the barrier with force. He found its "weak point" — a place where the Scars of the Colony's reality intertwined with the outside world most chaotically. He applied his will to that spot, not breaking but redirecting the energy flows, "stacking the odds" of success to an absurd level.
With a crack like shattering glass, the Colony's barrier tore. For a moment, a gaping portal appeared, and the air of the outside world — pure, undistorted by the Game's madness — rushed in.
And through that portal, they stepped. Haruya Tanaka and two other first-class instructors. Their gazes, cold and professional, instantly assessed the situation: chaos, titans, a berserker, and... Jintarō with the keys.
"Evacuation," Tanaka curtly threw out, his "Tsukinome" already in hand.
The Organizer, watching everything, felt rage for the first time. His control, his perfect plan had cracked. This Jintarō was not a player. He was a virus, a random mutation threatening the entire system.
A brawl began. Dokuji roared and charged at the instructors, absorbing their first attacks. Kagetori and Raidō, setting aside their feud, instinctively stood back-to-back against the common threat. Haruya Tanaka parried Dokuji's attack, his blade leaving trails of darkness in the air.
And Jintarō, satisfied, retreated to a safe distance. He watched the beginning apocalypse he had provoked. His gaze met Kagetori's across the battlefield. He raised his key like a glass and shouted over the roar:
"To a real game, sensei!"
And with those words, he turned and disappeared into the chaos, leaving behind an exploded bomb that tore all his plans, all alliances, and the Game itself in half.