"Do I know that symbol?" Heartz growled through clenched teeth. "No. I loathe it."
His whole body trembled, every muscle fighting the urge to detonate. "We'll show it to Master Zephyr. I need to know what he has on them." His voice went flat — cold, decisive. Without another word, he turned and walked out.
By the time he reached his hotel room, his emotions felt like they were burning holes through his chest. The door was unlocked. He stepped inside, shut it, and twisted the lock behind him before sitting heavily on the bed. His eyes were distant, almost hollow.
Rui had just stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped tight around her frame, dark hair tied up, droplets tracing down her warm, brown skin. She walked over and placed a gentle hand on his thigh.
"Talk to me..." she said softly.
"I..." But nothing came out. Not the truth. Not that memory. Not that symbol.
Not Plague.
"I'm anxious," he finally said. "We have power now — authority. People look up to us... and people hate us. It feels like it's all hitting at once."
There was truth in that— but not the truth she was asking for. Still, he knew these were the words that would ease her heart.
Rui loosened her hair, letting it fall damp and heavy down her back. The towel slipped away a moment later as she climbed into his lap, straddling him with slow, deliberate confidence.
"Well... if you don't mind..." she murmured, her voice a warm, silky trail that slipped straight into his thoughts. "...I can help you take your mind off things. My love." She said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Heartz's hands slid instinctively around her waist. His breath steadied— not because the darkness left him, but because she was there.
"I would love that," he said, their lips embracing.
...
Erenyx was back in her usual gear when she knocked on Loretta's door. It swung open a few seconds later— Loretta standing there with sleep still fogging his eyes as he let out a heavy yawn.
"What d'you want, bruv? I'm tryna get some sleep in here," he muttered, already half turning away.
Erenyx crossed her arms. "Well, bruv, the tournament starts again in less than an hour. Get your lazy ass up. Come on."
Loretta rolled his eyes and promptly shut the door in her face.
She snickered, shaking her head as she made her way down to the lobby to grab breakfast. That's where she ran into the very disheveled duo of Heartz and Rui shuffling in from the hall.
Erenyx stared at them for a long second, eyebrows raised.
"You two get into a fight or something?" she asked.
Heartz was holding two coffees— one for Rui, one for himself. Rui answered first, a sly smirk sliding across her face.
"Something like that."
Erenyx's face twisted. "Nasty!"
Laughter followed them as they headed back to their room, and Erenyx made her way toward the food line.
The stadium erupted as the Visionaries stood alongside the Land Master, all waving down at the roaring crowd. Heartz leaned toward Zephyr, keeping his voice low.
"After today's round, me and Loretta need a word with you."
Zephyr nodded subtly, just as the announcer's voice exploded through the arena.
"WELCOMEEEEE BACK! I KNOW THE BREAK HAS YOU ON EDGE, BUT TODAY—THE FINAL TWO MATCHES OF THE FIRST ROUND!"
The crowd answered with a thunderous roar, a vibration of pure hype rolling through the arena.
"AND NOW— TODAY IS A SPECIAL ONE! A TALENT KNOWN AMONG VETERANS OF HIS CRAFT... BUT A MYSTERY TO THE MODERN WORLD! EVERYONE, WELCOME... SEVEN ROUX!"
A wave of cheers broke out. Wardens who recognized the name shouted it with a mixture of excitement and dread, while others stiffened— fear locking them in place.
Seven stepped into the arena with a chilling calm. Pale, almost porcelain skin. A metallic mask covering the lower half of his face. Sleeveless black turtleneck, loose pants, scruffy hair with white-tipped strands. He moved like an elegant predator.
"AND HIS UNLUCKY OPPONENT... A NEWCOMER! MAKE SOME NOISE FOR... DENJURO SAMURA!"
The blue-haired swordsman strolled out in a patterned kimono, two blades hanging from his right hip. He let out a bored yawn.
"Damn... they really have no faith in me, huh?" Denjuro muttered as he took his mark.
The gong sounded.
Denjuro's eyes slid shut as his hand rested on a sword's hilt. A thick wave of bloodlust burst from him, drenching the arena in pressure. Under his mask, Seven smiled.
"This might be fun," he said.
The arena fell dead silent.
Denjuro drew his blade in a single smooth motion. His eyes snapped open—an invisible shockwave rippling outward, kicking up Seven's hair and forcing his eyes wide.
"Enlighten me," Denjuro said, voice steady and razor-sure.
The moment the gong's echo faded, both fighters burst forward. Seven met Denjuro's blade with something unseen— an invisible pressure flicking from his fingertips.
Denjuro's eyes narrowed. "Oh? A weapon I can't see?"
Without warning, Denjuro slashed in every direction around himself. To the untrained eye it looked wild, frantic— nonsense. But those who recognized the technique stiffened in disbelief.
"Whispering Waves."
With a silent step, Denjuro vanished— appearing behind Seven. Thin, precise cuts now lined Seven's arms like ink strokes.
"You defended well," Denjuro said, shifting into a two-handed stance.
Seven's fingers sliced the air. A shrill, whistling force tore toward Denjuro. He didn't move. Eyes shut. Breath steady.
He slashed once.
For a second, it looked like nothing happened— until a fresh line of blood appeared along his cheek. The arena erupted. First blood.
"Reverberating Sound."
Denjuro blurred forward, attacking from every angle. In a perfect circle he carved paths of motion around Seven, each strike aimed with killing precision. Seven blocked them all— barely— each parry just one heartbeat ahead of disaster.
When the assault ended, Denjuro dropped his shoulders and exhaled.
"Wow, man... that was rude as hell. Blocking all that like you're not even trying— at least pretend I'm impressive."
He sheathed his blade with a click, but kept his hand on the hilt, eyes closing once more.
Seven felt it— bloodlust, dense and suffocating, saturating every direction. Fighting out in the open like this was not his game. He needed pressure, shadows, angles. Not this.
So he lunged.
And in that instant—he saw his own head leave his body.