3 hours passed. The eerie quiet of the night had vanished. Now, students fighting could be heard more frequently. Through the now chaotic forest, a student sauntered with a deliberate crunch of footsteps. Drake walked at the front of his team with the swagger of someone who believed the forest itself bowed to him. His hands were deep in his pockets, wooden sword tucked loosely at his side. He wasn't searching for gold coins. He was searching for prey.
During this stroll, he thought back to him.
Arthur, the man who found him in the guttered alleys of the Hidden District.
When Drake was ten, his parents abandoned him.
The Hidden District didn't forgive weakness. The children who couldn't fight were eaten by the ones who could, figuratively and sometimes literally. He learned early that compassion was currency, and nobody paid in it.
Then, one night, when he was on the brink of collapse, filthy and bruised from head to toe, trembling under the weight of rain, Arthur appeared. He towered over him with a grin that was equal parts madness and brilliance.
Drake just glared back, fire in his eyes. The same fire he too had in his eyes at his age.
Arthur chuckled, tossing him the rest of the sandwich he had: "Eat. Then stand. You're coming with me."
That was the day Drake's old life ended. For 4 years, Arthur trained him brutally, mercilessly, but fairly. Every scar was a lesson. Every loss was an insult to overcome. By 14, Drake could take down grown men in spades.
Arthur: "You're better than most," he said, watching him dismantle a man twice his size. "But don't mistake better for invincible. Pride will rot you faster than failure."
Drake had just smirked: "I won't forget that. I'll be transferring to the Hunter Academy soon, right? You think there's anyone there stronger than me?"
Arthur laughed: "I doubt it."
Now, at 16, the boy who once trained under the 2nd strongest Hunter carried himself like the forest owed him obedience. He transferred as a 2nd year, and since coming, nobody has caught his eye. Except for Erika.
They approached Dakota's team who had been resting for a moment. Yuji was the first to notice. He locked in as soon as he saw them.
Yuji: "…These guys are strong. Be careful. Especially that one in front."
Drake's eyes met his. For a second, neither spoke. The forest itself seemed to tense between them.
Then Drake smirked: "You're the only one who feels dangerous here."
Yuji drew his sword in one motion.
Marlon sighed, dragging his sword lazily over his shoulder: "Tch. Another group lookin' for a fight. Don't we get a break tonight?"
Dakota: "Apparently not."
Drake tilted his head, amused: "Relax. I only need your coins." This was a lie. His team fanned out behind him.
Dakota: "Not happening."
Drake: "Aw. Well, that's too bad."
Marlon charged in.
Yuji: "No, you idiot!"
Marlon: "Raaaaaah!"
He went in swinging wildly, but Drake parried them and in less than 3 seconds, Marlon was on the ground unconscious. Drake delivered one decisive slash across his face, Marlon didn't even know what hit him.
Dakota charged in, Yuji tried to go in with him but the other 3 surrounded him.
The instant their wooden swords touched, the air cracked. Drake barely moved. His feet slid an inch in the dirt as Dakota struck again and again, precise, focused, deliberate. Each swing flowed from the last like clockwork, trained by a hundred repetitions. Drake deflected every strike with one hand, his expression somewhere between boredom and amusement.
Drake caught Dakota's sword mid-swing with his bare hand. The wood splintered against his grip, and before Dakota could pull back, a fist sank into his stomach. Dakota gasped, the world flashing white. He staggered back, barely staying upright.
Sota: "Dakota!" he shouted rushing forward, but Drake didn't even turn to look. His foot swept sideways, catching Sota across the leg, sending him sprawling.
Drake: "Pathetic."
Sota scrambled up, swinging wildly. Drake dodged effortlessly, tilting his head to avoid each blow. Then he drove an uppercut straight into Sota's jaw, flooring him instantly.
Yuji was clashing with Drake's teammates. He couldn't get through. They were strong, but Yuji was far stronger than the 3 of them. However, they were coordinated enough to stall him.
Yuji: "Damn it…" he hissed, parrying one strike, ducking another. "They're just buying time!"
Drake raised Dakota by the collar: "You train hard," he said, his tone almost pitying. "But you're just another weakling trying to play Hunter."
Dakota swung his sword upward desperately. Drake caught it again and slammed a knee into his ribs. Dakota dropped, gasping. His sword rolled from his hands.
Drake loomed over him, unimpressed: "You don't belong here." He smacked with Dakota with his sword, over and over again.
Yuji's patience snapped. He surged forward, slashing through the three who blocked him in a burst of movement so sharp it cut the wind itself. The last one tried to counter, but Yuji slammed his sword into his chest and sent him flying.
He landed between Drake and Dakota in one step, sword raised. His aura was ice-cold fury.
Yuji: "Step back."
Drake: "I'm done with him. Now, it's your turn."
The first exchange was like thunder.
Their swords met several times, each collision sending vibrations through the air. Yuji pushed forward, every strike an explosion of precision and aggression. Drake parried with one hand, the other casually brushing his coat aside. He was still toying with him.
Yuji's jaw clenched: "You think this is funny?"
Drake smirked: "It is somewhat amusing."
Yuji's next swing changed everything. It wasn't brute strength, it was control. His foot slid, his wrist flicked, and the angle shifted mid-swing. Drake's block came a fraction late, and the edge grazed his face.
This was the first time someone had injured Drake a long time. He licked the blood on his lip: "Now we're talking."
He exploded forward, his movements more sharp and deliberate. Their blades clashed in rapid rhythm, the wooden swords' echoes rippling through the night. Drake stepped inside Yuji's guard, elbowed him in the ribs, spun, and went for a horizontal strike. Yuji ducked low, twisting his sword to deflect upward, and countered with a slash aimed at Drake's neck.
Drake leaned back, the blade missing by a hair. His grin widened: "Not bad!"
He retaliated with a spinning back kick that slammed into Yuji's midsection. Yuji slid backward, heels digging trenches into the dirt. Then, Drake's team reentered the fray.
Four-on-one.
What Yuji had to do didn't change. The other three attackers swarmed from different angles, each swing meant to overwhelm him. Yuji's body moved on instinct, parrying left, twisting right, ducking under a thrust. One down. He countered with a brutal strike to the ribs. Two down. He feinted a retreat, turned, and cracked his sword across another's face. The last one grabbed his arm from behind, holding him in place.
Drake darted forward, moving faster than before.
Yuji couldn't free himself in time. Drake's kick landed dead center in Yuji's diaphragm. The impact lifted him off his feet. The world spun. He hit the ground hard, coughing violently. Yuji glared up at him. His hand shook as he gripped his sword. His breathing was ragged. But his eyes burned.
Yuji: "Don't…" he rasped, pushing himself up. "…look down on me."
Drake tilted his head: "You can't even stand."
Yuji did. Slowly. Painfully. He stood. But Dakota's groans stopped him from moving further. He turned to Dakota who was bloodied and bruised.
Drake smirked: "Good dog. You know when you're beaten."
Yuji's knuckles turned white. He wanted to keep fighting, wanted to tear that smug grin off Drake's face. But Dakota was hurt. Marlon was unconscious. Sota was still down.
He couldn't risk it. He dropped his sword.
Yuji: "…Take the coins."
Drake's grin widened. He crouched, snatching them from his hand: "You learn fast." As he turned to leave, he grinned knowing this was just the appetizer, 'Next is you, Erika Tohsaka."
Then he was gone, his team vanished into the forest shadows, their laughter fading with the wind.
Yuji stayed there, fists trembling. The silence felt heavier than the defeat itself. He slammed his fist into the dirt: "Damn it!" His jaw clenched. He looked down at Dakota, barely conscious.
He hated this feeling.
The helplessness. The familiarity.
Years ago, he'd sworn to keep his distance. To never let people close. Because every time he did… they got hurt.
He didn't want to call these guys friends. But before he realized it, that's what they became. And now, seeing them hurt because he wasn't strong enough, it burned worse than any wound.
Yuji exhaled slowly, forcing his breathing steady. He knelt, lifting Dakota's arm over his shoulder. The wind whispered through the forest. The Dark Arena continued, unrelenting.