The preparation chamber was dead silent.
After Nero's sudden surrender, the usual low murmur of conversation and restless movement had completely vanished. The only sounds left were the faint hum of the Miasma lanterns and the occasional distant cheer from the stands above. It felt like the air itself had thickened. Everyone was still processing what had just happened.
I stood near one of the stone pillars, arms crossed, watching the glowing projection as the arena workers finished clearing the last of the debris. Team 1 had advanced. Mo, Eve, and Selene were through. But the way they had won left a sour taste in everyone's mouth.
Then the tunnel doors opened.
Mo walked in first, his expression dark and tight. Nero followed a few steps behind him, completely composed, as if nothing unusual had occurred. His face was calm, almost bored.
The moment Orion saw him, something snapped.
Orion moved faster than I expected. He crossed the chamber in a few strides, grabbed Nero by the front of his shirt with both hands, and slammed him back against the wall hard enough to make the nearby lanterns flicker.
'What the fuck is wrong with you?!' Orion snarled, his voice low and vicious. 'You just threw the entire match! Do you have any idea what you just cost us?!'
Nero didn't resist. He simply stared back at Orion with that same blank, almost amused expression, as if Orion's anger was mildly entertaining rather than threatening.
'Answer me!' Orion demanded, tightening his grip. 'Why the hell did you do it?!'
Nero still said nothing. His eyes remained calm and empty, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly upward in the faintest hint of a smirk.
The entire chamber watched in tense silence.
Chrome stepped in, breaking Orion's grasp.
He stepped between Orion and Nero, one hand firmly on Orion's shoulder, the other already guiding Nero toward the exit.
'That's enough,' Chrome said, voice low but carrying absolute authority. 'Nero, you're coming with me. Now.'
Nero didn't resist. He simply allowed himself to be led out of the chamber, his expression still unreadable. The door sealed behind them with a heavy thud.
Orion stayed where he was.
For a moment he just stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Then the anger cracked. His shoulders started to shake. He turned away from the rest of us, pressing one hand against the wall, and a broken, furious sound tore out of him.
'This isn't over,' he said, voice rough and wet. 'You hear me, you bastard? This isn't fucking over.'
No one answered him. The chamber remained painfully quiet. I watched as Freya and a couple of others from Team 6 carefully approached him, speaking in low voices. Orion didn't push them away, but he also didn't look at anyone. He just kept staring at the floor, jaw tight, eyes red.
Across the room, Mo stood with Eve and Selene. Eve had a hand on his shoulder while Selene spoke quietly to him. Mo still looked angry and unsettled, but he was nodding, forcing himself to breathe.
I turned to Jax and Lena.
'What's going to happen to Nero?' I asked.
Jax exhaled slowly. 'They'll investigate. Despite what happened out there, the Ministry doesn't take this kind of thing lightly. If they find out there was something shady behind the surrender, they'll punish him. Hard.'
Before I could say anything else, a massive cheer erupted from the stands above. The projection on the wall flared back to life as the announcer's voice returned, louder and more energetic than before.
'Ladies and gentlemen! The first match of the Preliminaries is concluded! Now… the second match of the day!'
The crowd roared.
'Team 2 versus Team 5!'
My stomach tightened the moment I heard our team number.
'Representing Team 2 — Z, Lena Crowe, and Jaxson Reed!'
'And representing Team 5 — Thiago, Viktor Stahl, and Lucy!'
I felt my pulse climb. The reality of it settled in my chest like a weight.
Jax clapped me lightly on the back, a sharp grin already on his face.
'That's us,' he said. 'We're up.'
The announcer continued without pause.
'First bout of the second match… Jaxson Reed versus Viktor Stahl!'
Jax rolled his shoulders and started walking toward the tunnel, twin swords already strapped across his back. He glanced back at Lena and me once, still smiling.
'Watch closely,' he said. 'I'll try to make it clean.'
Then he disappeared into the tunnel leading up to the arena.
Viktor walked out of the chamber right after Jax, the massive dual-headed war hammer resting across his shoulders. The announcer's voice rolled through the arena as both fighters stepped into the light.
They stopped a short distance apart. Jax spun his twin short swords once. Viktor planted his feet and let the hammer's head rest against the stone.
'Fighters… begin!'
Both abilities activated at once.
'DIVINE ABILITY: Blade Mirage!'
Several shimmering copies of Jax's blades bloomed around him, flickering between solid and translucent as he hardened and dissolved them at will.
'DIVINE ABILITY: Fixed Center!'
A deep metallic sheen spread across Viktor's skin. His body seemed to grow heavier, denser. The same property crawled up the shaft and heads of his war hammer until the entire weapon looked like living metal.
Jax rushed in immediately.
Real blades and mirages attacked from multiple angles in a chaotic storm of steel. Sparks exploded every time a sword struck Viktor's hardened body. The sound was harsh and metallic — most of the attacks simply failed to cut deep enough. Viktor barely moved from his position. He kept his stance wide and rooted, hammer held in a tight guard, waiting.
Whenever Jax overextended, the hammer came around in a heavy, crushing arc. The first clean counter caught Jax across the ribs with a sickening impact that echoed through the arena. The sheer weight behind the blow lifted him off his feet and sent him skidding across the stone. Another swing clipped his shoulder a moment later; the force behind it was enough to make even the barrier around the arena hum.
Jax reset and came again, using the mirages to feint and probe. Viktor still refused to chase. He stayed planted, answering only when an opening appeared, each counter carrying the same brutal, density-shifted weight.
Then Jax changed.
He stopped relying on wide, flashy slashes. Instead he closed the distance and began stabbing — short, precise thrusts aimed at internal organs. Liver. Solar plexus. The gaps beneath the ribs. The shift in rhythm forced Viktor to adjust. One thrust slipped past the hammer and sank partially into Viktor's side before the metallic hardening stopped it from going deeper. Jax immediately followed by attacking the joints — knees, elbows, the wrist of the hand gripping the hammer — trying to disrupt Viktor's base.
He feinted high, then swept a blade toward Viktor's eyes. Viktor turned his head just in time, deflecting the blade. A sharp strike near the ear followed, the concussion of metal and Miasma throwing Viktor's balance off for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Jax stepped fully inside the hammer's reach. Instead of slashing, he reversed one of his real swords and drove the reinforced handle forward in a sharp, Miasma-infused strike aimed at the side of Viktor's head.
The impact landed clean and heavy.
A deep, metallic crack rang out. The sheen of Fixed Center flickered and collapsed. Viktor's eyes went wide. His knees buckled. The war hammer slipped from his fingers and hit the stone with a dull, final thud.
Viktor Stahl toppled forward and hit the ground, unconscious.
For a moment the arena was silent.
Then the announcer's voice cut through the air.
'The winner — Jaxson Reed of Team 2!'
The crowd erupted.
Jax stood over the fallen form, chest heaving, blood running from a cut above his eye and a dark bruise already forming along his ribs. He didn't celebrate. He simply exhaled and lowered his swords.
He dropped to one knee, breathing hard, one hand pressed against his bruised ribs. Medics were already sprinting across the arena floor. They reached him within seconds, checking the cut above his eye and the darkening bruise along his side before carefully helping him onto a stretcher. Another team did the same for the unconscious Viktor.
Both fighters were escorted out through the side tunnel toward the medical bay. Workers immediately moved in to clear the scuff marks and blood from the white stone, restoring the arena for the next bout.
In the preparation chamber, the tension eased just a little.
Lena let out a quiet breath and allowed herself a small smile. Relief showed clearly in her silver-gray eyes for the first time since the matchups had been announced.
I felt it too.
The tight knot in my chest loosened. Jax had done it. We already had one win. One more and we were through.
'We've got this,' I said, glancing at her. 'We only need one more.'
Lena looked at me and gave a slight nod, the smile still present. Approval, quiet and steady.
I turned my head toward the other side of the chamber.
Lucy's group stood near the far wall. Thiago was speaking to someone in a low voice. Lucy herself hadn't moved. She stood with her arms loosely crossed, eyes fixed on the glowing projection, her expression completely unreadable. No anger. No nerves. Just that same quiet, distant look she sometimes wore when she was bracing herself for something unpleasant.
The announcer's voice returned, bright and clear.
'Next bout! Representing Team 2 — Lena Crowe! Representing Team 5 — Lucy!'
I flinched.
My eyes went straight back to Lucy. She was already moving, checking the straps on her gear with calm, practiced motions. There was no hesitation in her.
I looked back at Lena.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself, then met my gaze.
'I got this,' she said quietly. 'Don't worry.'
Then she turned and walked toward the tunnel.
Lucy walked past me without even a glance.
Her shoulder almost brushed mine as she headed for the tunnel, expression still unreadable.
I stayed where I was, eyes fixed on the projection as both of them stepped out into the bright arena. The crowd noise swelled when the announcer's voice returned.
'Fighters… begin!'
'DIVINE ABILITY: Astral Chains!'
'DIVINE ABILITY: Shadow Walk!'
Lena's form flickered, then melted into her own shadow and vanished from ordinary sight.
I stood frozen in the preparation chamber, not sure who I was supposed to be rooting for.
The fight started fast.
Lena struck first from the shadows, appearing behind Lucy in a blur and aiming a kunai at her back. Lucy twisted with surprising speed, one of the astral chains snapping up to intercept the attack. Metal and Miasma rang against each other. Lena dissolved back into the darkness before the chain could wrap around her.
She kept the pressure on — vanishing, reappearing from different angles, throwing kunai that pinned Lucy's shadow to the ground and briefly locked her in place. Each time Lucy was forced to break the binding with a burst of chains, Lena was already gone again.
But Lucy adapted quickly.
Instead of trying to track Lena's movements, she started spreading her chains across a wider area, turning the center of the arena into a web. The glowing links moved independently, sweeping through the air and scraping across the stone, limiting the shadows Lena could safely use. One chain clipped Lena as she emerged, wrapping around her wrist and slamming her off-balance.
Lena tore free with a surge of Miasma and answered by dragging Lucy partially into a shadow. For a moment Lucy's body was half-swallowed by darkness, her movements restricted. She responded by flooding the shadow with raw chain force, bursting out of it in a violent surge that sent Lena skidding backward.
Both of them were breathing harder now.
Lena tried to end it with speed. She vanished again, then appeared directly in front of Lucy with both kunai aimed at her throat. Lucy crossed her arms and a dense lattice of chains formed in front of her like a shield. The kunai sparked against it. In the same motion, two more chains shot out low and wrapped around Lena's ankles, yanking her off her feet.
Lena hit the ground hard but rolled, dissolving her lower body into shadow to slip the binding. She came up swinging, forcing Lucy to give ground. For a few seconds it looked like Lena might seize control again — her movements were still sharper, her use of the shadows still more fluid.
Lucy stopped trying to catch Lena cleanly and began forcing her into smaller and smaller safe zones. Chains crashed down from above, erupted from the floor, and cut off escape routes one by one. Lena dodged the first several, but the constant pressure left her with fewer places to hide. A chain finally caught her across the back and slammed her into the stone.
She tried to melt away one last time.
But Lucy was ready.
A thick cluster of chains converged on the exact shadow Lena was entering, spearing through it and dragging her back into the open. Before Lena could fully reform, three more chains wrapped around her torso, arms and neck, binding her tightly and lifting her off the ground.
Lena struggled, dark Miasma flaring, but the chains only tightened.
After a long moment, she went still.
The announcer's voice rang out.
'The winner — Lucy of Team 5!'
The crowd reacted with a mix of cheers and surprised shouts.
I stood in the preparation chamber staring at the projection, a complicated feeling sitting heavy in my chest. Feeling glad for Lucy. Frustration that we had lost the bout. And something quieter underneath both of those emotions that I didn't want to name yet.
Lena was lowered to the ground as the chains dissolved. She stayed on one knee for a second, then pushed herself up under her own power, expression tight but controlled. Lucy stood a short distance away, already letting the last of her astral chains fade.
Medics escorted both of them back into the preparation chamber.
Lena limped slowly by herself, though one of the medics stayed close beside her. Lucy followed a short distance behind, silent.
Lucy went straight to her group without looking at anyone else. She sat down against the wall, arms resting loosely on her knees. Thiago stepped over, said something quietly, and gave her a short nod of approval. She only answered with a small movement of her head.
I was alone now.
Jax was still being treated. Lena had been taken to another side of the chamber for further checks. The space around me felt larger than it should have, the low hum of the lanterns suddenly too noticeable.
Then the announcer's voice returned, carrying clearly through the chamber.
'Final bout of the second match! Representing Team 2 — Z! Representing Team 5 — Thiago!'
My body tensed before I could stop it.
I wrapped my fingers around Amaterasu's hilt, the familiar weight of the sword grounding me for a second. The leather of the grip felt warm against my palm.
I forced myself to breathe.
You can do this, I told myself. Everything you've been through has led you here. If you want to help Amy… if you want any chance of reaching her… you have to get through this.
I closed my eyes for a moment and reached inward, toward the quiet, constant presence that had lived in my chest since the Grail was sealed inside me.
'Wish me luck,' I muttered under my breath.
There was no answer.
Only the same heavy silence the Grail always kept when it didn't feel like speaking.
I opened my eyes again, exhaled slowly, and started walking toward the tunnel.
***
An older Shade led us out of the preparation chamber and into a short, narrow tunnel. The air here was cooler, the walls lined with old runes that pulsed faintly under the surface. Neither of us spoke at first. The only sound was our footsteps and the distant roar of the crowd above.
Then Thiago broke the silence.
'You're nothing special,' he said, voice calm and flat. 'I don't care what the Ministry sees in you. Today I'm going to use my full strength. I'm going to destroy you.'
I didn't answer.
We reached a forked path. The older Shade gestured left for me and right for Thiago. Without another word, we split. He disappeared down the southern corridor. I took the northern one.
Thiago's words sat in the back of my mind, but I pushed them aside. There was too much at stake for me to waste energy on his opinion. Amy. The Grail. The path I still had to walk. That was all that mattered.
The tunnel stretched ahead. After a while, light began to appear at the far end — pale and sharp against the stone. I kept walking until the brightness swallowed the darkness around me.
When I stepped out into the open, the scale of it hit me.
The arena was far bigger than the projection in the preparation room had made it seem. The white stone floor stretched wide in every direction. Tiered seats rose high into the air, packed with spectators. Banners from different domains fluttered in the controlled wind. The atmosphere was unusually lively and colorful—a bit too colorful, considering one of us was about to get seriously hurt. I could hear sections of the crowd murmuring as I walked forward.
'…no family name…'
'…never enrolled before…'
'…who even is he?'
I ignored them and kept moving until I stood a few paces from Thiago in the center of the arena. He was already waiting, staff resting lightly against his shoulder, expression unreadable.
The roar of the crowd washed over us. Somewhere above, the announcer's amplified voice was preparing to speak. The barrier around the arena hummed softly as it sealed.
We stood there facing each other.
Waiting.
The air between us felt heavy, stretched thin with the knowledge that the next word from the announcer would start everything.
I tightened my grip on Amaterasu.
Thiago shifted his stance by a degree.
'Begin!'
The word cracked through the air like a whip.
Thiago moved first.
'Divine Ability: Legion of One!'
In an instant, five identical copies of him split away from his body, each one solidifying with a golden staff already in hand. The clones spread out in a loose semicircle, their movements sharp and fearless. Even though I could tell they were weaker than the original, their presence alone multiplied the pressure.
I drew Amaterasu in one clean motion.
The first clone rushed me from the left. I met it with a rising slash, the blade cutting through its staff and torso in a single stroke. The clone burst into dissolving Miasma, but two more were already on me. A staff cracked against my shoulder hard enough to send a jolt down my arm. Another swept low toward my legs. I jumped, twisted, and brought Amaterasu down in a heavy diagonal cut that destroyed the second clone.
The real Thiago came in behind the third.
His staff elongated mid-swing, the golden shaft stretching farther than it should have, forcing me to lean back. The tip still grazed my cheek and opened a thin line of blood. Before I could recover, another clone slammed its staff into my ribs. Air left my lungs. I staggered, barely raising my sword in time to block a follow-up strike that would have caught me across the collarbone.
Thiago was controlling the pace.
I heated Amaterasu. The blade shifted from its normal dark red into a deeper, angrier glow. The air around it shimmered. When the next clone came in, I countered using the Iai slash — a sudden, explosive draw-cut that severed the clone's staff and upper body in one motion. Sparks and dissolving Miasma filled the space between us.
Thiago didn't slow down. His real staff expanded in thickness as he swung, turning the weapon into a blunt, crushing force. I blocked with both hands. The impact drove me backward several steps, boots scraping across the stone. My arms trembled from the weight behind the blow.
A clone appeared at my blind spot. I was too late. The staff smashed into my side and sent me rolling across the arena floor. Blood filled my mouth. I forced myself up, vision briefly swimming, and heated the blade further. The color climbed from dark red into a bright, dangerous orange.
Thiago and his remaining clones closed in together.
I used Swallow Cut, trying to catch multiple targets at once. The orange blade carved through two clones in a single sweeping arc, the heat intense enough that the dissolving Miasma steamed. The real Thiago stepped through the gap left by the destroyed copies and thrust. His staff elongated again, the tip driving straight toward my chest.
I countered with Absetzen, deflecting the thrust downward and stepping inside his guard in the same motion. For a brief second I had a clean angle. I swung hard. Thiago twisted, but not fast enough — Amaterasu cut a deep line across his left shoulder. Blood sprayed across the white stone.
He didn't retreat.
Instead he expanded the staff into a wide, sweeping arc that forced me back, then immediately contracted it and stabbed toward my thigh. I barely turned the blow, but the tip still tore a gash along the outside of my leg. Pain flared hot and sharp. Blood ran freely down my calf.
We broke apart for half a second, both breathing hard, both bleeding.
Then Thiago created two more clones and came again.
I pushed the heat of Amaterasu higher. The blade shifted from orange into a fierce, almost white-tinged yellow. The air around it warped from the temperature. When the next exchange came, I met it with everything I had. Clones dissolved under the yellow edge. Sparks exploded every time staff met sword. My arms ached. My wounded leg threatened to buckle. Still I kept swinging, kept moving, refusing to give him the same easy control he had at the start.
At one point I gathered Miasma along the blade and unleashed a wide, roaring arc of fire.
Thiago's eyes widened. He threw himself sideways. The fire attack tore past him, slammed into the protective barrier at the edge of the arena, and punched a jagged hole straight through it. A section of the barrier shattered with a violent crack. The crowd closest to the breach screamed and surged backward in panic.
The announcer's amplified voice cut through the chaos almost immediately.
'Remain calm! The secondary barrier is already activating! There is no danger to the spectators!'
The secondary field sealed the hole within seconds, but the frenzy took longer to settle. Shouts and nervous energy continued rolling through the stands even after the announcer repeated the assurance.
I didn't have time to look.
Thiago was already on me again, staff elongating and contracting in rapid, unpredictable patterns. A heavy blow caught me across the collarbone and dropped me to one knee. Blood ran from the new wound, mixing with the earlier ones. My vision narrowed for a moment.
I forced myself back up.
Yellow fire still burned along Amaterasu's edge. My body felt like it was being held together by will alone. Thiago stood a short distance away, blood running from the deep cut on his shoulder and several smaller wounds across his arms and side. His remaining clones had been destroyed, but he still looked steady — and still dangerous.
Neither of us spoke.
We just stared at each other across the scarred white stone, both of us bleeding heavily, both of us still standing.
Then Thiago spoke, voice low enough that only I could hear it over the noise of the crowd.
'You're not going to use your Divine Ability?'
I met his eyes and smirked wryly.
'I don't need it to beat you,' I lied.
Something ugly flashed across his face. The calm precision he had fought with until now cracked.
'Oh, yeah?!'
He roared the words and surged forward. Three new clones split from him at once, each one already swinging. The real Thiago came in right behind them, staff elongating and thickening mid-charge.
I barely had time to set my feet.
The first clone's staff slammed into my guard hard enough to drive me back. The second swept low and caught the same wounded leg, nearly taking it out from under me. I cut through the third with a rising slash, but the real Thiago was already inside my range. His staff contracted and then punched forward like a spear, the tip slamming into my ribs just below the earlier wound. Pain exploded white-hot through my side. Blood spilled warm down my shirt.
I staggered, vision briefly tunneling.
Thiago didn't let up. He pressed with everything he had left. Every exchange forced me to give ground. My arms felt heavy. The yellow heat along Amaterasu's edge was starting to flicker from pure exhaustion. Another heavy blow slipped past my defense and opened a long cut across my left forearm. More blood.
I was losing the ability to meet him head-on.I had to change my approach.
Instead of matching his aggression, I started slowing down, trying to bait him— slightly slower reactions, a half-second of hesitation after each block, the appearance of someone finally breaking. Thiago took the bait. His strikes grew more committed, more punishing, more determined to close out the fight.
On the third committed thrust, when his staff was fully extended and his weight was forward, I stepped in rather than back.
I let the tip of the staff tear a shallow line across my shoulder so I could close the last of the distance. At the same time I dropped the temperature of Amaterasu in a single sharp breath — the blade cooling from yellow to a deep, controlled orange in an instant. The sudden change in heat and speed threw off the timing he had adapted to.
I used the opening for a short, ugly sequence rather than a clean finishing technique.
First I slammed the pommel into the underside of his wrist, forcing his grip to loosen. Then I turned my body and drove my shoulder into his chest, disrupting his balance. While he was still recovering, I brought Amaterasu around in a tight, rising cut that caught him across the torso — not deep enough to be lethal, but hard enough to open him up and drive the air from his lungs.
Thiago tried to create one last clone.
I didn't give him the chance.
I stepped through the incomplete form before it could fully solidify and finished with a heavy, two-handed strike to the side of his head using the flat of the blade. The impact was solid and final. The incomplete clone dissolved. Thiago's eyes rolled. His staff slipped from his fingers and clattered against the stone.
He dropped to one knee, swayed, and then collapsed fully onto the arena floor.
For a long second I stayed standing over him, Amaterasu still raised, blood running freely from my side, my arm, and my leg. My vision swam. My legs threatened to give out.
The arena was quiet.
Then the announcer's voice cut through the silence.
'Victory — Z of Team 2!'
The crowd erupted, but the sound felt distant. I lowered the sword slowly. My hands were shaking.
I had won.
For the first time in my life, people were cheering for me. Screaming my name. It felt….nice. I tried to smile, but I couldn't force one through the intense pain all over my body.
I stayed on my feet only long enough to see the medics already running toward us. Then my left knee buckled, and I had to plant Amaterasu into the stone to keep from falling all the way down.
The roar of the crowd blurred into a single distant noise. My vision narrowed at the edges. The strength in my arms drained away all at once.
I felt my consciousness slipping.
The arena lights stretched and dimmed. My knees gave out completely.
Everything went black.