The Arena
The crowd was still buzzing. Still processing what they'd just witnessed.
Jango leaned into his mic. "That right there was a MASTER CLASS. Kade's aggression versus Nara's tactical defense. Both showed exceptional Resonance control. Kade's ability to concentrate his aura during critical moments? That's advanced technique. Most cadets can't do that under pressure."
He took a sip of soda. "And Nara? Her grappling nearly had him. If she'd held that choke two seconds longer, different outcome. Both fighters showed WHY they're here. Why they're in the top eight. Respect to both."
Larry wiped his eyes. "Beautiful analysis, Jango. Just beautiful."
Outer Rim Home
Pietro leaned forward. "That Felinari kid is something else. The way he broke through pure willpower? That's rare."
"That's Kade," Mary said, smiling. "One of Juli's best friends."
Pietro's eyebrows raised. "Really? Juli's got good taste in allies. That boy's going places."
Juno was already fidgeting. "When does Juli fight?!"
"Soon, little star. Soon."
The Arena
"NEXT MATCH!" Larry stood, his energy somehow still at maximum. "POLO ROSSI VERSUS JAVAR!"
Fighter Viewing Area
Javar stood. His usual grin was gone. Replaced by something harder. More focused.
He knew. Everyone knew. The animosity between Polo and Juli. The hospital. The insults. The bad blood.
This wasn't just a match. This was personal.
For you, blonde yout'. I'm gonna take him down for you.
Juli watched from his position. His face completely neutral. Red eyes tracking. Analyzing. But giving nothing away.
He was too deep. Too locked in. The tournament had consumed him entirely.
The Arena
The horn rang.
MATCH BEGIN.
Both fighters EXPLODED into action.
Javar shot upward immediately. Wings beating HARD. Gaining altitude fast.
Polo's dual pistols came up. Fired.
Javar twisted. The shot grazed his side. Blood. He gritted his teeth. Kept climbing.
Polo's black and white Resonance aura FLARED. It coated his arms. His eyes. His weapons. The energy crackled like electricity.
He fired again. Three shots. Perfectly spaced. Creating a kill box in the air.
Javar saw them coming. Folded his wings. DROPPED.
The shots sailed overhead. He spread his wings at the last second. Dove straight at Polo.
Talons extended. Glowing with blue Resonance.
Polo rolled. Javar's talons tore through sand where he'd been. Deep gouges.
They separated. Both breathing hard already.
"You should surrender," Polo said coldly. "You're outmatched."
"Me don't quit, red boy." Javar's wings spread wide. "Not for yuh. Not for ANYONE."
Polo's expression didn't change. He just MOVED.
Fired while running. Shots perfectly placed. Forcing Javar to dodge left. Then right. Herding him.
Javar realized too late. He'd been pushed into a corner. Rocks on three sides.
Polo's pistols came up. Both barrels glowing with concentrated Resonance.
He fired. BOTH pistols simultaneously.
Javar's wings beat desperately. He shot UPWARD.
The blasts hit the rocks behind him. EXPLODED. Debris everywhere.
"WHAT POWER!" Larry screamed. "POLO'S RESONANCE ENHANCEMENT IS OFF THE CHARTS!"
Javar was panting. That would've killed him. One shot. That's all it would've taken.
He circled higher. Trying to think. Trying to find an opening.
Polo tracked him. Patient. Calculating. Like a predator watching prey.
Then Javar DOVE again. Full speed. Desperation move.
Polo aimed. Fired.
Javar twisted mid-air. His feathers detached. HUNDREDS of them. All at once. A storm of projectiles.
They filled the space between them. A wall of razor-sharp blue light.
Polo's eyes widened. He couldn't dodge them all.
His Resonance aura INTENSIFIED. He fired into the storm. His shots detonating feathers mid-flight. Creating gaps. Paths.
He MOVED through the chaos. Weaving. Dancing. Each step calculated. Each dodge precise.
But he couldn't get them all.
Three feathers hit. Shoulder. Leg. Side. Blood bloomed on his uniform.
He didn't slow. Didn't stop.
Javar landed. Breathing HARD. Wings drooping. That attack had drained him.
Polo was already there. Point-blank range.
His fist came up. Enhanced with Resonance. Hit Javar's jaw.
The bird warrior's head SNAPPED back. He stumbled.
Polo didn't let up. Another punch. Body shot. Javar's ribs cracked.
Javar swung back desperately. His talon caught Polo across the face. Drew blood.
Polo's head turned from the impact. But he didn't fall. Didn't even stumble.
He grabbed Javar's wing. YANKED. Hard.
Javar SCREAMED. His wing twisted at an unnatural angle. Not broken but damaged.
Polo threw him. Javar crashed into the sand. Rolled. Tried to get up.
His wing wouldn't cooperate. Flight was impossible now.
"No... no no no..." Javar's voice cracked. "Me can't lose... not to yuh... not after what yuh did to Juli..."
He stood anyway. Talons ready. One wing hanging useless. But STANDING.
Polo raised his pistols.
VIP Box
Bianca leaned forward. Her knuckles white on the armrest. "Polo... finish it."
Goldberg was quiet. Watching. For once, no commentary.
Seraphina's hands covered her mouth. "The bird warrior... he cannot fly. 'Tis over."
Olivier removed his goggles. Cleaned them slowly. "Oui. But 'e still stands. Remarkable."
The Arena
Javar charged. Limping. Desperate. One last attack.
Polo sidestepped. Effortless.
His pistol came around. Hit Javar's temple with the grip. Blunt force.
Javar's vision blurred. He swung wildly. Hit nothing but air.
Polo's other pistol fired. Hit Javar's good wing. The one still functional.
Javar went down. Tried to get up. His body wouldn't respond anymore.
"Please..." His voice was barely a whisper. "Me promised... me promised him..."
Polo stood over him. Both pistols aimed at his chest.
Flashback. Nine years ago.
House Rossi. Massive. Cold. Beautiful but lifeless.
Five-year-old Polo wandered the halls. Already training. Already being shaped. Molded. Broken down and rebuilt.
He heard sobbing. Muffled. Coming from the servant's quarters.
He followed the sound. Found a door slightly ajar.
Inside, a girl. Sixteen. Red hair like his. Like all Rossis. But her eyes were different. Vacant. Distant.
She was on the floor. Scrubbing. Her hands raw. Bleeding.
She looked up. Saw him. Tried to smile. Failed.
Polo didn't know what to say. He'd never interacted with her before. The family didn't talk about her. The mute cousin. The defective one.
He sat down. Watched her work.
She paused. Looked at him. Confusion in her eyes.
Polo pulled out a piece of paper. Drew stick figures. Him and her. Held it up.
She stared. Then something broke in her expression. Tears fell.
She grabbed the paper. Held it to her chest.
That was the beginning.
Weeks passed. Polo would sneak to her quarters. Bring her food. Bandages for her hands.
He learned to communicate. Simple gestures. Drawings. She'd respond with nods. Shakes. Occasionally, a smile.
But the smiles became rarer.
One day, he found her in the kitchen. An older Rossi family member towering over her.
"You BROKE the dish! Worthless! USELESS!"
The slap echoed.
She fell. Didn't make a sound. Couldn't.
Just took it. Like she'd taken everything else.
Polo watched from the doorway. Five years old. Powerless.
Another time, he saw her carrying laundry. Too much. Too heavy for her frame.
She stumbled. Dropped some.
"PICK IT UP! NOW!"
She scrambled. Hands shaking. Picked up each piece. Her fingers bleeding again from the rough fabric.
Polo tried to help. An adult hand grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't. She needs to learn."
He tried to contact Pietro. His older brother. The CHAMPION. The HERO.
Left messages. Sent letters.
"Pietro, please. She needs help. She's suffering. Please come home."
The responses were always the same.
"I'm busy, Polo. Important mission. Can't return right now."
"Training new recruits. Can't leave."
"Another crisis. I'll visit when I can."
The champion was too busy being a hero to save one worthless trash colony.
Some hero.
Months became years. Polo watched her deteriorate.
The vacant eyes became emptier. Darker.
She stopped trying to smile. Even for him.
Just worked. Like a machine. Like something broken that still functioned but had no life left.
He tried to talk to her. Drew pictures. Brought gifts.
She'd look at them. Then back at her work. Nothing registered anymore.
Then one day...
She was gone.
"Where is she?" Polo asked.
"Don't worry about it," they said.
"WHERE IS SHE?!"
Silence.
He never saw her again.
Never learned what happened.
But years later, whispers reached him. Fragments. Pieces of a story he didn't want to know.
And he understood.
She hadn't been sent away.
She'd left. Permanently. By her own hand.
Unable to endure anymore.
Present.
Polo's face was stone. Empty. Cold.
But his hands trembled. Just slightly.
He fired. Both pistols. Center mass.
Javar's body convulsed. His tracker screamed. Critical damage.
He fell. Unconscious.
WINNER: POLO ROSSI.
The crowd applauded. Respectful. It had been brutal. Spectacular. Everything a fight should be.
But Polo didn't hear them.
He just stood there. Over Javar's unconscious form.
Remembering red hair. Vacant eyes. Silent suffering.
I can't lose. I can never lose. Because losing means being discarded.
Like her.
VIP Box
Bianca stood. Clapped elegantly. Pride in her eyes. But something else too. Sadness. Recognition.
She knew the story. All the elder Rossis did.
Goldberg was quieter now. "That was... intense."
"Oui," Olivier agreed. "Ze boy, 'e fights like 'is life depends on it."
"Perhaps it does," Seraphina said softly.
Fighter Viewing Area
Juli watched Javar being carried off by medical personnel.
His face remained neutral. But his fists clenched. Just slightly.
Polo walked off the arena floor. Didn't celebrate. Didn't acknowledge the crowd.
Just walked. Cold. Empty. Victorious.
But carrying something heavier than any physical wound.
Medical Bay
Javar lay on the bed. Consciousness returning. Tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry, Juli. I'm so sorry. Me tried. Me really tried..."
He'd made a silent promise. To beat Polo. For his best friend. For the boy who'd shown him kindness when the world hadn't.
And he'd failed.
The weight of that failure crushed him more than any physical wound.
The arena prepared for the next match.
Two down. Two to go.
The quarterfinals continued.
And the ghosts of the past lingered in the present.