"Well, damn…" Boros muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as he leaned back on the wall.
"The kid's having it rough out there. Honestly thought he'd pull through like John did."
SHHCK!
The sound split the air. Silence fell across the arena. Every eye locked on the stage. Takeru's dagger was buried deep in his opponent's abdomen.
Boros's brow lifted slightly. "Oh?" he said, arms crossing.
"Now this… might get interesting."
The man stumbled back, no scream–just a slow, deliberate step, eyes wide and cold. Takeru stood frozen, chest heaving, dagger still pointed forward.
"I–I did it…" he whispered, disbelief breaking the tremor in his voice. "I actually hit him…"
But when he looked up–his brief smile vanished.What stared back at him wasn't pain.
It was fury. Pure, blood-soaked fury.
"I never stabbed you…" the man muttered darkly, taking a step closer, his hand gripping his wound. "And yet – you stabbed me."
Each word was heavier than the last, his voice shaking with rage. "…You know I'm not gonna let that slide right?"
Takeru stumbled backward, heart pounding as the man closed in, his footsteps deliberate, unhurried. The boy's heel caught a rock, and he fell hard onto his back.
The man raised his blade, eyes burning with murderous intent––and swung. The man's sword came crashing down with a roar that split the air.
Steel met stone – a violent spark burst upward, forcing Takeru to throw himself sideways, dirt scraping his palms as he rolled across the ground.
The impact rattled the arena floor, a deep thud echoing in everyone's chest. Takeru blinked though the haze, his breath ragged, eyes darting for an opening–
"Too slow."
The man lunged forward, shoulder-first, slamming into him. The blow knocked the wind from Takeru's lungs; he staggered backward, boots skidding, before the man's fist crashed into his ribs.
A sharp cry tore out of him as he stumbled to one knee.
"Pathetic," the man hissed, swinging again. Takeru raised his dagger just in time to parry, the clash ringing sharp and uneven.
The force of it numbed his arm. His dagger trembled against the weight of the man's blade until–
CRACK!
The weapon flew from his grip. His hand throbbed, bones screaming from the shock. He barely had time to flinch before the man drove a boot into his chest, sending him crashing onto his back.
Dust clouded the air. Takeru wheezed, his chest heaving, eyes wide in disbelief.
In the crowd, Boros tilted his head slightly. "He's outclassed," he said under his breath.
Scarlet didn't respond, her gaze locked on the boy who could barely lift his head.
Back in the ring, the man twirled his sword once, resting it against his shoulder as he stepped closer. "Still breathing? Impressive," he muttered. "Let's see how long you last." He stepped forward–slow, deliberate–his shadow swallowing Takeru where he laid.
Takeru tried to stand, legs wobbling, one arm clutching his ribs. His dagger laid several feet away, useless. He barely made it halfway up before the man's boot slammed into his side again.
THUD!
He hit the floor hard, coughing blood. His vision swarm, and the roar of the crowd began to fade into a dull hum.
"C'mon, boy," the man taunted, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up like a rag doll. "You wanted to be an adventurer, right? Then act like it!"
He punched him across the face–once, twice–before throwing him back to the ground. Takeru slid, dirt streaking his cheeks and arms. "Get up!" the man barked. "Or are you just gonna lie there and cry!?"
Takeru pushed up weakly, tears already pooling at the corners of his eyes. His whole body trembled as he tried to move, breath hitching between sobs.
"I said–GET UP!"
The sword came down again, grazing Takeru's shoulder as he barely rolled away. He screamed, the pain white-hot, blood trickling down his arm.
The crowd grew uneasy. Even the ones who had mocked him earlier looked away now.
"This isn't a fight anymore…" someone whispered.
"He's gonna kill him."
Takeru scrambled to his feet – panic taking over instinct – and started running.
Not toward his opponent. Toward the edge of the ring.
He didn't care. He just wanted to escape.
But before he could reach the border, the man's hand caught him by the collar and yanked him back hard. "No, no, no," the man growled, dragging him close. "We're not done yet."
Takeru thrashed wildly, kicking, clawing, sobbing – but the man's grip was iron. The more he struggled, the more the man laughed, the sound cruel and echoing across the arena.
"Go on, run again!" the man jeered. "Show them what kind of warrior you really are!"
The man said as he slowly cut across Takeru's eye causing blood to gush out like a fountain.
Takeru's voice cracked into a raw helpless cry. "Let me go!"
Scarlet slammed her hand down on the barrier, her voice cutting through the madness.
"That's enough!"
The man froze mid-motion, his laughter fading.
The crowd fell silent – no cheers, no murmurs – just the sound of Takeru's sobs echoing in the ring. The man released him with a scoff, stepping back.
Takeru collapsed to his knees, shaking, tears streaking down his bloodstained face.
Scarlet's expression hardened. "Get the medics," she ordered.
Takeru's body shook as he pressed his forehead to the floor. "Tch… how can I be this weak…" he whispered, his tears dripping to the ground. "How can I save my family… how… can I fufil my promise…" his fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.
In the crowd, Boros exhaled through his nose, gaze steady on the broken boy in the ring. "Tch… not everyone's built for this," he muttered.
The hooded man, however, only smiled faintly. "Not yet," he whispered. "But fear… has a way of shaping people."
"What do you mean by that, sir?" his attendant asked quietly.
"Ironically…" the hooded man replied, eyes narrowing with thought, "I also want to see where this kid will be in the next one year."
"You look… disappointed, sir," the attendant said carefully.
"Ooh? Is it that obvious?" the hooded man replied with a low chuckle, exhaling as he leaned back in his chair. "Well… I'm not," he said finally, voice calm, almost amused. "Just… waiting."
......
Meanwhile, a short distance from where the male candidates fought, the examiner walked with his hands buried deep in his coat pockets.
His jaw tightened, eyes narrowed, brooding over his altercation with Boros about Kinuko, as he muttered,
"Tch… I told Scarlet to sabotage all his tests. These rumors I'm hearing – they better not be true."
He exhaled sharply, footsteps echoing against the cold ground.
........
Back in the arena, silence hung thick in the air. The crowd still hadn't recovered from the brutal bout that had just ended.
Takeru lay unconscious, dragged off by medics, while his opponent – still grinning – dragging his tongue across the blood that stained his face.
"Repulsive," Scarlet muttered, as she stared at the man with a disgusted look.
Then, straightening her clipboard, she raised her voice. "Now then – for the final bout of this stage of the exam!"
A sigh of relief rippled through the audience.
"Finally, thought this would never end…" someone whispered.
"Quiet!" Scarlet barked, snapping them silent again.
She flipped a page and called out,
"Jonas Tyrek!"
A tall figure pushed through the crowd, cracking his knuckles as he stepped into the ring.
"And…" Scarlet's gaze swept the candidates before stopping at the far back.
Her eyes locked on a lone figure leaning against the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Her finger lifted.
"You."
Every head turned.
The crowd followed her gesture––
to Boros.
He pushed off the wall with a smirk, brushing the dust from his sleeve. "So," he said, cracking his neck, "It's my turn, huh?"
He stepped forward, the faint echo of his boots filling the quiet arena
"Fucking Finally."