The town of Velvet Hollow shimmered like a stitched jewel in the dusk. Lanterns floated on threadlines above cobbled streets, casting golden light on banners that fluttered with the names of past champions. The air buzzed with anticipation — the Velvet Coliseum Tournament was about to begin.
Clucksworth and Thimble arrived at the gate, weary from travel. A guard stepped forward.
"Names?"
Clucksworth hesitated. Then, with quiet certainty, he said, "William."
Thimble looked at him, surprised — then smiled. "Cedric's first name," they whispered. "You're carrying him forward."
They found the White Knight in a quiet courtyard, seated beneath a thread-bound tree. Locals called him the Inanimate Knight, but he preferred White Knight — a stitched legend who hadn't moved in years, yet whose presence still bent the air.
"You stitched your name to a ghost," he said. "Now stitch your place."
He handed William a scroll — an invitation to the tournament.
"Placement earns respect," he said. "Respect earns answers."
The Velvet Coliseum
The arena was a marvel — floating thread-screens replayed every strike, and the crowd was half-real, half-stitched illusions. William stepped into the ring, his weapon gleaming: The Seamcatcher, a trident-style rapier with three tightly aligned blades, perfect for trapping, piercing, and stitching mid-strike.
Thimble watched from the stands, spool spinning, heart pounding.
Round 1: Glassjaw
Glassjaw shimmered — stitched from mirror shards and silk. Every movement fractured light, spawning illusions. William blinked. The arena was full of Glassjaws.
A blade grazed his shoulder — real.
He closed his eyes, stitched a thread into the ground, and cooled his cotton. The temperature dropped. Illusions slowed. One staggered.
William lunged.
The Seamcatcher spun in his grip, its thread channels glowing. He slashed — the real Glassjaw's ankle caught in a stitched loop. William yanked, pulling him into a cotton spike bloom erupting from the ground.
Glassjaw reeled, stitched a prism trap — light bent, forming a cage.
William warmed his cotton, bounced off the prism wall, flipped mid-air, and drove The Seamcatcher into Glassjaw's shoulder .
The mirror cracked.
Glassjaw gasped — then fell asleep from the cold.
One down.
Round 2: Madame cry
She floated in on a parasol stitched from battlefield banners. Her cloak shimmered with memory glyphs. She sang — each note a spell.
A bolt hit William's chest — Cedric's final breath. Another grazed his leg — Thimble crying.
He staggered.
She danced, parasol spinning, firing bolts of grief.
William stitched a memory anchor into his sleeve — Cedric's thread. He cooled his cotton, slowing his breath, resisting the visions.
She vanished into mist.
He stitched a slice of cotton , scattering the fog.
She reappeared mid-air,
She tried to sing again.
He drove The Seamcatcher into the arena floor — a cotton Iron Maiden erupted around her, spikes rising.
raised.
William bounced — cotton warm — and struck. The Seamcatcher caught the parasol's shaft, thread channels spinning, stitching a trap into her cloak.
She tried to sing again.
He drove The Seamcatcher into the arena floor — a cotton Iron Maiden erupted around her, spikes rising. She bowed.
Two down.
Round 3: The Florist
They entered with grace — a tall figure in a coat of living petals. The bouquet pulsed with color. Hidden inside: a rapier laced with venom.
The flowers shifted — roses became blades, orchids became smoke bombs. A petal grazed William's cheek — it burned.
He cooled his cotton — the poison slowed. The Florist blinked, sluggish.
William bounced forward, cotton warm, dodging a petal storm. The rapier extended mid-thrust — he caught it between The Seamcatcher's triple blades.
He twisted, thread channels flaring, stitching a toxin-neutralizing thread into the bouquet.
The Florist tried to retreat.
William stabbed The Seamcatcher into the ground — a cotton Iron Maiden bloomed upward, trapping the petals and the fighter.
They collapsed in a bed of wilting flowers.
Three down.
Round 4: The Rag Twins
One twin scribbled spells on parchment. The other struck with bronze mesh fists. Fire, ice, lightning — chaos.
William stitched a decoy — i wax and thread. The bronze twin struck it.
William cooled his cotton — the cotton fizzled. He stitched a .They tried to stitch each other for strength.
William cut the bronze between them with The Seamcatcher, its blades slicing the bronze.
He bounced — cotton warm — flipped over the bronze twin, and drove The Seamcatcher into the arena floor.
A cotton Iron Maiden erupted around both — parchment crumpled, bronze dented.
The twins fell, tangled in each other's magic.
Four down.
Final Round: William vs. Hellmantis
Hellmantis stepped into the arena — tall, calm, stitched like a soldier. His arms, shaped like mantis shrimp claws, twitched with quiet power. No armor. No theatrics. Just a stitched tunic and a nod of respect.
William bowed. Hellmantis returned it.
The bell rang.
Hellmantis moved first — a blur. His claw struck William's side before he could react. Cotton tore. William stitched mid-roll, bounced off the wall, warm and fast.
He lunged with The Seamcatcher, thread channels glowing. Hellmantis caught the blade between his claws, twisted, and flipped William into the dirt.
William cooled his cotton — tried to slow Hellmantis. It worked for a moment. Hellmantis staggered.
But then he adjusted — stitched a heat glyph into his own arm, countering the chill.
William stitched a cotton Iron Maiden mid-air — Hellmantis dodged, then struck again. William's shoulder split. His stitches unraveled.
He tried to stand.
Hellmantis paused.
"Good fight," he said softly.
Then he struck — clean, final, respectful.
William collapsed.
The crowd roared.
Hellmantis helped him up.
"You stitched well," he said. "But you're not done stitching yet."
William smiled through the pain.
He'd lost.
But he'd earned something deeper.
After the tournament hellmantis visited him at his hospital aye pal he said, hi replied William just letting you know my name isn't hellmantis its jigoku. My commander just put hellmantis for fun sorry about the mix up. Its good. Aight see you later Jigoku said before leaving