The arena erupted.
Millions of monkeys gasped in unison, a sound like a hurricane sucking in its breath. For the first time in millennia—perhaps in the entire history of the Seventh Continent—an Eight King had drawn blood.
Ape King Bambina stared down at the crimson stain spreading across his scarred chest. He touched it with one massive finger, brought it to his mouth, tasted.
His eyes went wide.
"Roa... roar?" (Blood... my blood?)
For a moment, confusion flickered across his ancient features. Then something else—something that had not been seen in the eyes of an Eight King for longer than any creature could remember.
Delight.
Pure, unadulterated, childlike delight.
"RORORORORO!!!"
His laughter shook the mountain. He pointed at Sunny, still suspended in the air from his rebound, then at Zebra, still locked around his shoulders from behind. He slapped his knee, tears streaming down his scarred face.
"Roar roar roar! (You! The shiny one! You actually hit me! And YOU!)" He twisted his head impossibly far to look at Zebra. "Roa! (You grabbed me! No one grabs me! Ever!)"
Zebra's grin widened. "First time for everything, monkey."
Bambina's laughter redoubled. Then, with a casual shrug, he sent Zebra flying—not with force, but with a simple, dismissive shrug that nonetheless carried the power of a collapsing mountain. Zebra tumbled through the air, caught himself on a bone pillar, and landed grinning.
"Not bad," he admitted. "Not bad at all."
In the center of the arena, Sunny finally touched down, his hair cushioning his landing into something almost elegant. His knuckles were bleeding—the Hair Demon Punch had channeled so much force that even his reinforced body couldn't fully contain it—but his eyes blazed with triumph.
"I did it," he breathed. "I actually hit an Eight King."
Toriko was already moving, positioning himself between his companions and the still-laughing Bambina. "Don't get cocky. He's not hurt—he's entertained. There's a difference."
Coco nodded grimly. "His vital signs haven't dropped. If anything, they're rising. The blood loss is negligible to a creature of his caliber."
Indeed, the wound on Bambina's chest was already closing, the flow of blood slowing to a trickle. In moments, it would be nothing but another scar on his already-scarred hide.
But that wasn't what mattered.
What mattered was that the Monkey King was laughing.
"Roa roar roar! (Again! AGAIN!)" He bounced on his haunches, pointing first at Sunny, then at Zebra. "Roa! (You! And you! Both of you! Come! HIT ME AGAIN!)"
The crowd of monkeys, recovering from their shock, began to chant—a rhythmic, pounding chorus of chest-beats and howls that shook the very mountain.
The Four Heavenly Kings exchanged glances.
"Well," Toriko said, cracking his neck, "he asked for it."
Zebra's grin turned savage. "My turn."
Coco's eyes glowed with future sight, mapping trajectories. "I'll cover."
Sunny's hair flared, already regenerating. "After that hit? I'm definitely going again."
And as one, they moved.
The dance resumed, bloodier and more beautiful than before.
High above, King watched with undisguised enjoyment. Beside him, the real Kaka was speechless.
"They... they actually drew blood. From an Eight King. After days of training."
King nodded, munching on a roasted bug. "Yep. Told you. Protagonists."
Kaka shook her head slowly. "I've lived for millions of years. I've watched civilizations rise and fall. I've seen the Eight Kings in their glory and their rage. But this..." She gestured at the scene below, where four humans were trading blows with a god and surviving. "This is new."
"The best recipes always have new ingredients." King's eyes gleamed. "And speaking of ingredients—look."
He pointed. The [PAIR] between Bambina's legs was glowing brighter now, pulsing with each heartbeat, each laugh, each blow. The sound of its chiming had grown louder, more insistent, as if responding to the intensity of the dance.
"It's ripening," Kaka breathed. "The [PAIR] is actually ripening."
"Of course it is." King lay back, satisfied. "The [PAIR] doesn't come from winning. It comes from playing. From matching the king's joy. And right now?" He smiled. "That monkey hasn't been this happy in ten thousand years."
Below, Bambina caught Toriko's fist in one palm, spun him around, and launched him at Zebra, who caught him and used the momentum to launch himself back at the king like a cannonball.
It was chaos. It was beautiful. It was the dance.
And the night was still young.
The Monkey King's body shuddered—actually shuddered—under the combined assault. Toriko's relentless nail punches, each precisely targeted to the same spot, had created a focused impact zone that even an Eight King's hide couldn't ignore. And Zebra's rhythm punches, perfectly synchronized with Toriko's strikes, sent cascading resonance waves through Bambina's internal structure.
For the first time, the Monkey King's grin flickered—not with pain, but with surprise.
"Roa...?" (You... you're actually...)
Coco saw his opening. While Toriko and Zebra maintained their assault, he darted in, poison membrane glowing with concentrated toxicity.
"Ape Martial Arts: Poison Point Strike!"
His fingertip, coated with a venom so potent it could dissolve steel in seconds, jabbed directly into the wound Toriko had been working on. The poison didn't just sit on the surface—it sought the tears Zebra's resonance had created, worming its way into the Monkey King's bloodstream.
Bambina's eyes went wide.
Then wider.
Then—
"ROOOOOOAR!!!"
The sound wasn't pain. It wasn't anger. It was ecstasy.
The Monkey King exploded.
Not literally—but the power he'd been suppressing, the volcanic energy Zebra had sensed, burst forth in a shockwave that sent all four Heavenly Kings flying like leaves in a hurricane. They crashed into the bone barriers, into the crowd of monkeys, into the arena floor itself.
When the dust cleared, Bambina stood at the center, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing, his entire body radiating power so intense the air around him shimmered.
And he was laughing.
"RORORORORORO!!!"
He pointed at each of them in turn, tears of mirth streaming down his scarred face.
"Roa roar! (You! The punchy one! You made a DENT!)"
"Roa! (You! The noisy one! You made my INSIDE tickle!)"
"Roa roar roar! (You! The poison one! That STINGS! In a good way!)"
Finally, his gaze fell on Sunny, still recovering from his earlier hit.
"AND YOU! Roar roar! (You hit me FIRST! You started it! I LIKE you!)"
The crowd of monkeys, who had been stunned into silence by the explosion of power, erupted. Millions of voices raised in a cacophony of cheers, howls, and chest-pounding that shook the very mountain.
Toriko pulled himself from the crater he'd made, spat out a mouthful of blood, and grinned.
"He's... he's enjoying this."
Zebra landed beside him, nursing a cracked rib. "Of course he is. The bastard's been bored for thousands of years. We're the first thing that's actually made him feel anything."
Coco staggered over, his poison membrane flickering erratically. "My venom... it's being neutralized. His body is already adapting."
Sunny's hair dragged him back to the group, looking significantly less pristine than usual. "Well, that was invigorating. And terrifying. And also invigorating."
In the center of the arena, Bambina had stopped laughing. He stood there, watching them with those ancient crimson eyes, and for a moment, something almost like respect flickered in their depths.
"Roa." (Enough.)
The word carried weight. The crowd fell silent.
"Roa roar roar." (You've played. You've hit. You've made me feel.) He reached down, cupping his glowing testicles—the [PAIR], now pulsing with light so bright it was almost painful to look at. "Roa." (Now. The real dance begins.)
He raised one massive hand, and the bone arena began to shift. Platforms rose and fell, creating a three-dimensional battlefield that defied gravity itself.
"Roa roar." (Seven thousand steps. Dawn approaches. Keep up—) His grin returned, wider than ever. "RORORO! (Or die trying!)"
Toriko looked at his companions—battered, exhausted, but alive. Their cells sang with the harmony of the Ape Dance, their spirits burned with determination.
"One more round," he said. "One more dance. And then—"
"The [PAIR] is ours," Coco finished.
Sunny's hair began to weave into new formations. Zebra's chest rumbled with building sound.
"Then let's dance."
The four launched themselves back into the arena, into the shifting platforms, into the waiting arms of a god who had finally found playmates worthy of his attention.
The night's final act had begun.
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