The waiting room designated for Group 25's highest-seeded combatants was quiet, save for the hum of the surrounding containment fields and the distant, muffled roaring of the crowd echoing through the reinforced walls. Round 25 had arrived, moving at a relentless pace as the tournament narrowed down its roster of elite fighters.
Inside the private lounge, Bayu paced back and forth across the polished metallic floor. His movements were fluid, accompanied by a light, lingering breeze that naturally stirred whenever his emotions shifted. Unlike the cold, unyielding silence Krodh had brought back with him from his match, Bayu was visibly conflicted, his brow furrowed as he looked toward the digital monitor displaying the upcoming bracket match.
**GROUP 25 — MATCH 10**
**BAYU VS ATHELLI**
Bayu stopped in his tracks, running a hand through his hair before turning toward his brothers, who were occupying the lounge in their usual distinct manners.
"Ah... should I really hurt a girl?" Bayu asked, his tone laced with genuine reluctance.
Lam sat on the elevated leather couch near the center of the room. He was leaning back comfortably, resting his left leg casually over his right leg, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He didn't even turn his head fully as he answered, his voice smooth and nonchalant.
"You can. It makes no difference," Lam replied simply. "A match is a match. An opponent is an opponent."
Bayu grimaced slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "But... it's bad. She's just a ten-year-old girl. Going all out against someone like that doesn't feel right."
Sitting in the corner with his back resting against the wall, Krodh didn't even open his eyes. His arms were folded, his posture completely rigid as he absorbed the residual thermal energy from his previous bout.
"Who cares," Krodh interrupted blithely, his deadpan voice cutting off any further hesitation. "If she stood on that ring, she chose to fight. Mercy is useless."
Bayu sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get a sympathetic argument from Krodh. He looked over at Draz, who was slouched in a reclining chair, engrossed in his mobile device. Draz's thumb tapped rapidly across the illuminated screen, barely pausing as he offered his own brand of encouragement.
"That's my bro," Draz said with a smirk, glancing up for a fraction of a second before returning to his phone. "Just get in there, wrap it up quick, and come back. Don't overthink it."
Bayu shook his head with a faint smile, adjusting his collar as the low chime signaled his turn to enter the arena floor. "Alright, alright..."
***
The massive stadium groaned as the heavy blast doors at either end of the central stage unlocked. The ring for Group 25 had been freshly restored, the cracked stone slabs replaced with dense, impact-resistant alloy plates designed to absorb high-frequency elemental forces.
From the Eastern Gate, Bayu walked out onto the elevated platform. A soft, swirling current of pure white wind whipped around his boots, lifting small particles of dust in a gentle, rhythmic dance. He carried no visible weapons, moving with an effortless lightness that gave the impression he was barely touching the ground at all.
Simultaneously, the Western Gate slid open to reveal his opponent.
Stepping into the light was Athelli. At just ten years old, she was small in stature, but her posture radiated a towering, unmistakable arrogance. Dressed in tailored, lightweight combat robes, she walked forward with her hands tucked casually behind her back. Surrounding her temple was a subtle, pulsing aura of translucent purple energy—a clear indication of her specialization. Athelli was a prodigy of Mind Type Urja, relying on telepathic force, psychic pressure, and telekinetic manipulation to dominate her foes without ever having to engage in physical combat.
As the two fighters halted at opposite sides of the ring, Athelli scanned Bayu from head to toe. Seeing his hesitant expression and the soft, non-threatening breeze swirling around his legs, a dismissive smirk touched her lips.
*He looks so weak,* Athelli thought to herself, tossing her hair back with a scoff. *Is this really the opponent they gave me for Group 25? He looks like he'd crumble if I even push him with a fraction of my mind.*
Without waiting for a formal opening stance, Athelli tapped into her mental core. Her purple aura flared brightly, and with a swift flick of her wrist, she manifested a condensed sphere of glowing psychic force right in front of her chest.
**"Psycho Ball!"** Athelli declared, launching the psychic sphere forward.
The glowing purple orb sliced through the air, vibrating with high-frequency mental energy designed to bypass physical armor and directly shock the target's neural system.
Bayu didn't flinch. Seeing the incoming projectile, he raised his right hand in a smooth, sweeping motion, drawing upon his inherent Wind Type Urja.
**"Wind Barrage!"** Bayu called out softly.
A rapid volley of compressed air needles shot from his outstretched fingers. The sharp wind currents met the incoming *Psycho Ball* head-on, slicing through the psychic sphere with surgical precision. The mental energy shattered into harmless purple sparks that dissolved into the air before they could come within ten feet of Bayu.
Athelli's eyes narrowed slightly, annoyed that her opening probe had been neutralized so effortlessly.
"Lucky fluke," she muttered under her breath.
Stomping her foot against the metal floor, Athelli doubled her mental output. The translucent purple aura around her expanded into a swirling vortex of telekinetic pressure. Raising both hands high above her head, she gathered the ambient mental density of the arena, molding it into a heavy, crushing wave of psychic force shaped like an invisible hammer.
**"Psycho Crusher!"** Athelli shouted, bringing her hands down violently.
The atmospheric pressure directly above Bayu spiked dramatically. A massive column of compressed telekinetic weight crashed down from the sky, threatening to flatten the ground beneath him and shatter his stance.
Bayu felt the heavy gravity shift, but his expression remained calm and collected. Swirling his arms in a fluid, circular pattern, he gathered the surrounding atmospheric air, accelerating the flow until it formed a tight, rising column of high-velocity currents right above his shoulders.
**"Hurricane!"** Bayu commanded.
A roaring upward draft of spiraling wind erupted from beneath his feet, shooting skyward like an invisible pillar. The violent, ascending wind currents slammed directly into the descending weight of the *Psycho Crusher*. The two forces ground against each other in mid-air, creating a high-pressure shockwave that rattled the barrier shields surrounding the ring. Within seconds, Bayu's rising *Hurricane* dispersed the downward mental pressure entirely, blowing the psychic force harmlessly out toward the upper ceiling of the stadium.
Athelli took a step back, her chest heaving slightly as she stared across the ring in frustration. The ease with which he was deflecting her high-tier mental techniques was maddening.
"Ah, he is so annoying! Not strong, just annoying!" Athelli grumbled loudly, her composure breaking into childish irritation.
Refusing to accept that her Mind Type attacks were ineffective, she thrust both palms forward in rapid succession, channeling her remaining energy into a rapid-fire assault. Three distinct, highly compressed spheres of purple energy materialized in the air around her, humming with lethal frequency.
**"Psycho Ball! Psycho Ball! Psycho Ball!"** she yelled, launching all three in a tight, triangular formation straight toward Bayu's chest.
Bayu took a step back, his boots gliding across the metal floor. With a flick of his wrist, he swept his arm horizontally across the air in front of him, creating a wide wall of rushing wind.
**"Air Barrage!"** Bayu announced.
A continuous curtain of high-pressure air currents burst forth, colliding with the three incoming projectiles simultaneously. *Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!* The compressed wind streams intercepted each *Psycho Ball* in mid-flight, detonating them harmlessly in a flash of fading purple light.
"Grr! Take this then!" Athelli shrieked, thoroughly enraged.
Without giving herself time to recover her breath, she pushed her psychic core to its absolute limit. Three more *Psycho Balls* materialized, larger and far more unstable than the previous ones, trailing erratic sparks of telekinetic electricity as she fired them with all her strength.
Bayu didn't even need to shift his stance. He brought his index and middle fingers together, making a swift, vertical slicing gesture through the air.
**"Air Slash!"** Bayu called out.
A razor-thin, brilliant white crescent of compressed wind tore across the arena floor. The blade of wind sliced through the air with a high-pitched hiss, cutting through all three of Athelli's incoming *Psycho Balls* in a single, clean strike. The psychic spheres were cleanly bisected, instantly losing their cohesion and exploding into harmless mist.
The wind blade didn't stop there—it swept past her flank, the residual draft knocking Athelli off balance and causing her to stumble onto one knee.
Breathing heavily, Athelli looked up, her face red with frustration and exhaustion. Her mental reserves were severely depleted, while Bayu stood across from her, completely untouched, his posture as calm and composed as when the match had started.
Bayu looked at the young girl, seeing that she was reaching her absolute limit. He knew that dragging the fight out any longer would only force her to hurt herself out of sheer stubbornness. It was time to end it—as gently as possible.
Gathering a moderate amount of Wind Type Urja into his right hand, Bayu swept his palm upward toward the sky, driving the air currents beneath Athelli's feet into a controlled, spinning vortex.
**"Tornado Strike!"** Bayu shouted.
A localized column of swirling wind erupted directly under Athelli. The gentle yet powerful currents lifted her off her feet, spinning her safely within the eye of the miniature storm before launching her upward and outward. The wind carried her across the arena in a smooth arc, depositing her outside the designated combat ring and onto the padded boundary mats below.
Athelli hit the soft landing pads with a thud, completely out of bounds and unable to muster any more mental energy to stand.
The referee raised his flag instantly, pointing toward the Eastern Gate: **"ATHELLI IS OUT OF BOUNDS! THE WINNER OF GROUP 25, MATCH 10 IS BAYU!"**
The arena crowd cheered, appreciating the clean, bloodless victory. However, down on the stage, Bayu lowered his hand with a heavy sigh. There was no triumphant smile on his face, no raised fist to celebrate the win. He looked over at the medical staff helping Athelli back to her feet, his expression filled with genuine dissatisfaction.
He turned around silently and walked back through the Eastern Gate, his footsteps heavy.
***
Returning to the Group 25 private lounge, Bayu slid the heavy door open and stepped inside. The room was just as he had left it—Krodh was still resting quietly in the corner, Draz was still tapping away on his phone, and Lam remained seated on the couch with his left leg resting over his right.
Bayu slumped into an empty armchair, letting out a long, dramatic groan as he stared at the ceiling.
"Ah... I am really not happy with this win," Bayu said, shaking his head.
Lam tilted his head slightly, looking over at his brother with a mix of amusement and genuine disbelief.
"Dude, why are you not happy?" Lam asked, a faint chuckle in his voice. "You should be happy. You won, you didn't take a single hit, and you moved on to the next round. What is there to complain about?"
"It just doesn't feel like a real victory," Bayu muttered, leaning back into his chair. "Fighting a ten-year-old girl who kept screaming at me... I felt like a bully out there."
"You did fine, bro," Draz piped up from his chair, not taking his eyes off his screen. "Clean finish, no unnecessary damage. A win is a win."
Bayu just shook his head again, closing his eyes as he leaned back, completely unappeased.
Far beyond the planetary boundaries of Anipla, deep within the fiery depths of the cosmos...
Floating effortlessly upon the boiling, liquid-fire surface of the cosmic Red Star Colex-5411025—where temperatures raged at an unfathomable 54,110,025 degrees Celsius—the Five-Armed Man relaxed against the stellar plasma.
His five eyes gleamed with cosmic insight as he observed the aftermath of the match on Anipla through the space-time continuum. His lower two hands rested atop his Plunger Cameraman spiked plungers, his middle two arms held the legendary five-headed red trident and the ten-orb red drum, while his fifth arm casually adjusted his resting posture.
A gentle, knowing smile appeared on his massive, rugged face as he watched Bayu sulking in the lounge.
"Ah, Bayu..." the Five-Armed Man murmured, his deep voice echoing across the roaring flames of the red star. "...the only truly good guy and gentleman among all the 5 sons of The Great Mufasa."