The announcer stepped forward again, his voice ringing out across the arena. “From this point forward, any interference from non-participants will result in immediate disqualification from the adventurer program. This includes healing, powering up, or influencing the match in any way.” A few gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd. Itsuki shrank into her seat, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She looked down at her lap, trying to make herself small. Shunjiro leaned in and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry. You helped me… I’m glad you did.” She smiled sheepishly, whispering back, “Still… I didn’t mean to break the rules.” Before she could say more, the announcer’s voice boomed again. “Now for round five! First up… Ryuji Sayo!” A boy with wavy black hair and light blue eyes emerged from the waiting area, stepping out with exaggerated confidence. His adventurer gear was slightly mismatched, the chestplate gleaming but dented. He ran a hand through his hair and puffed out his chest as he strutted toward the arena floor. “Ladies, please, calm down. One at a time,” he said with a wink. Dead silence. The girls in the crowd stared at him blankly, some visibly confused, others visibly cringing. “…Who’s that again?” one girl whispered. “Was he in the first round?” asked another. Ryuji cleared his throat awkwardly but kept the grin plastered on his face. “And his opponent… Lars Tanabe!” From the opposite side of the arena, a cloaked figure stepped forward. Spiky black hair, piercing red eyes, and a cold confidence that needed no performance. The black cloak fluttered behind him as he walked, and at his side hung an oddly shaped katana. This time, the girls did cheer. Several gasps. A few shouts of his name. “Oh, he’s hot.” “That’s Lars? He’s actually kind of…” Ryuji’s eye twitched. He turned toward Lars, fuming with barely disguised jealousy. “Great.” Lars didn’t respond. He stepped calmly into position, his red eyes never leaving Ryuji’s. The two faced off. “Hope you’re ready,” Ryuji said, cracking his knuckles. “I’ve been waiting to shut down a poser like you.” Lars blinked slowly, then replied with a flat tone. “I don’t even know who you are.” The match began. Ryuji exploded forward, his fist coated in swirling black spiritual energy. With a grunt, the energy hardened, forming a thick, gauntlet over his knuckles that shimmered like obsidian. He slammed his fist toward Lars, but he had already backed away. The ground where Ryuji struck cracked violently, spiderweb fractures spreading across the stone arena floor. Lars’s eyes narrowed. Click. He unsheathed his katana with a single, fluid motion. A hum of power filled the air as the blade ignited with a shimmering purple aura, spiritual energy wrapping the metal like crackling fire. In an instant, the metal chestplate Ryuji wore began to tremble. “What the-?!” Ryuji stumbled back as his chestplate was yanked toward Lars’s blade, drawn by an invisible force. The katana’s edge clanged loudly against his chestplate, scraping a streak of purple light across the armor. “That katana’s some kind of magnet…!” Ryuji shouted, staggering. “Cheap trick!” But Lars said nothing. His expression remained focused, calm, as he repositioned. Ryuji growled in frustration and began yanking off the magnetic gear, tossing his chestplate and belt aside, leaving only his tunic and pants. “Let’s see how that sword works without something to suck in!” The moment he discarded the metal, Lars’s eyes flared, now it was his turn to move. With a sudden dash, Lars closed the gap. His purple-coated blade sliced through the air in a sharp arc toward Ryuji, but Ryuji’s forearms glowed black as he activated his power again, this time, forming hardened bracers of spiritual energy around his arms. Sparks flew as the katana clashed against Ryuji’s hardened defense. The crowd erupted. “Yeah, that’s right!” Ryuji shouted. “You’re flashy, but I’m not easy to cut down!” The two clashed again, sword versus armor, fast and brutal. Ryuji threw a knee, but Lars twisted away and responded with a reverse sweep of his katana. Ryuji blocked, but the force made him stumble. Lars saw the opening and moved like a shadow. He pivoted, let the katana go mid-swing and suddenly swapped hands, grabbing it with his left as he rotated and delivered a surprise elbow strike to Ryuji’s jaw. Ryuji’s head snapped sideways. He reeled back, dazed. The cheers turned into oohs and gasps. Then, Lars reactivated the blade. The energy pulsed again, and this time, it wasn’t drawing metal. The spiritual magnetism pulled at the hardened energy wrapped around Ryuji’s forearms. Ryuji looked down, stunned. “Wait, what?!” “Energy is energy,” Lars said coldly. “I don’t need your metal anymore.” With a sharp step forward, Lars tore the katana upward, dragging the hardened energy with it. Ryuji’s defense wavered, and in that instant, Lars spun, slamming the back of the blade into Ryuji’s ribs like a hammer. Ryuji flew back, tumbling across the ground, coughing in pain. He barely rolled to his feet, shaking, bruised, breathless. Lars didn’t let up. He charged, the wind of his cloak trailing behind him as the spiritual magnet began disrupting the energy shields still forming on Ryuji’s arms. Ryuji tried to retaliate, launching a barrage of hardened punches, but Lars weaved through them, sidestepping with tight, efficient movements. Another blow landed. Then another. Finally, Lars appeared behind him, and with the blunt edge of the katana, swept Ryuji’s legs out from under him and pinned him to the ground with the blade against his throat. The announcer didn’t hesitate. “Winner Lars Tanabe!” The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, especially from the female spectators this time. Ryuji coughed, groaning as Lars stepped off him. Lars flicked his katana to the side, the purple energy dissipating as he sheathed it. His expression remained unreadable. “Next time,” he said quietly, “try focusing on the fight instead of your nonexistent fanbase.” Ryuji grumbled from the ground. “Tch… stupid magnetic sword…” As Lars walked back toward the sidelines, cloak billowing, even some of the other contestants nodded in respect. Up in the stands, Shunjiro leaned toward Itsuki. “…That guy’s kinda scary.” Itsuki giggled. “But cool, right?” As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the energy in the crowd buzzed with anticipation. The first rounds had delivered their share of surprises, intense clashes, and shocking upsets but now, it was time for the final one-on-one match of the day. The announcer raised his hand for silence, his voice booming through the arena. “Final match of the entrance exams, Beginning now! First to enter the ring… Tetsuo Shinseki!” A tall figure stepped into the arena, wearing simple, worn clothes that clung to his chiseled, well-defined frame. There was no noble family crest, no gleaming armor, no polished sword, just a plain outfit, a wide grin, and the unmistakable air of someone who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Tetsuo scratched the back of his head as he looked around at the roaring crowd. “Man, this place is packed…” He had short, scruffy brown hair, matching brown eyes, and a goofy but disarming smile that didn’t quite match the size of his biceps. He gave an awkward thumbs up to the crowd as if to say: Guess it’s my turn now. “And his opponent, Yuki Kyosei!” From the opposite side of the arena, a figure stepped forward that seemed to command the light itself. Long golden-blonde hair flowed like silk behind her, and her piercing blue eyes sparkled beneath the hood of a deep blue cloak. As the wind caught it, the cloak flared, revealing pristine white armor underneath, pearlescent and elegant, engraved with faint symbols that shimmered in the sun. A collective cheer rose from the crowd. From the stands, Ryota whistled loudly. “Let’s gooo, Yuki!” Lars, standing beside him, simply gave a small nod. “Don’t hold back.” Tetsuo blinked and took a long look at her armor, then said with a grin, “Wow… I really like your armor. It looks expensive.” Yuki smiled and laughed softly, lowering her hood. “Thanks. I’ll try not to scuff it up too much when I beat you.” Tetsuo chuckled. “Ohhh, okay. I see how it is.” The match started. Yuki was the first to act. With a graceful flick of her wrist, she extended both arms and slammed her palms together. The ground beneath her rippled with spiritual energy and a massive glacier of ice surged forward, jagged and fast, like a frozen tidal wave aimed straight at Tetsuo. Tetsuo’s eyes widened. “Okay, wow, uh, definitely trying to kill me!” He stomped his foot and thrust both hands forward. The earth split beneath him, stone rising up in an instant to meet the glacier. A thick wall of jagged rock erupted from the arena floor, colliding with the ice in a loud, echoing crash that sent shards of ice and chunks of stone flying across the battlefield. Tetsuo quickly leapt to the top of his wall, peeking over it with a wild grin. “That’s how you treat someone after they compliment you?” Yuki laughed again, light-hearted but focused. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Before he could reply, two sleek ice spears formed in her hands, and she hurled them toward him. Tetsuo didn’t flinch. He shifted his footing, coating one of his legs in solid stone and raising it just in time, kicking the first spear back with a loud crack. He spun and knocked the second away, the spear shattering against his stone foot like glass. “Ha! That all you got?” Tetsuo called out. “C’mon, princess, I’m just getting warmed up!” Yuki’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Alright then… try keeping up.” With that, her boots froze over, and she pushed forward, skating across the battlefield on trails of slick ice that formed with every stride. She moved like a dancer, elegant and fast, closing the distance with impossible speed.  An ice blade formed in her hand, sharp and glowing with spiritual energy. Tetsuo slammed both fists together. “I don’t usually fight with weapons… but this seems like a good time to try.” He knelt and pulled a chunk of stone from the ground with one hand, shaping it in seconds with his spiritual energy. A crude but powerful stone blade took form, rough around the edges but glowing with his signature energy. The two clashed in the center of the arena, stone against ice, power against grace. The force of their blades colliding sent ripples of spiritual energy through the air. Each strike was a test of will, Tetsuo swinging wide and hard, Yuki darting and deflecting with finesse. “Not bad,” Yuki admitted, parrying a blow. “You’re stronger than you look.” “Thanks,” Tetsuo grunted, “you’re faster than I expected. You sure you’re not cheating with skates?” Yuki smirked. “Speed is just strategy.” She lunged with a feint, but Tetsuo caught it, locking her blade with his and pushing her back with raw power. The ice around her feet cracked as she skidded, boots grinding against the arena floor. She tried to reform her blade for one more strike but it was too late. Tetsuo roared and brought his stone blade down in a mighty overhead swing, shattering Yuki’s weapon in a spectacular explosion of ice fragments. The arena went quiet for a heartbeat… then erupted in applause. Yuki stumbled back, panting slightly, then smiled and held her hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright… you win.” The announcer raised his hand. “Winner: Tetsuo Shinseki!” Tetsuo dropped his stone blade with a tired exhale, the weapon crumbling into dust as the spiritual energy faded. He walked over and extended a hand to Yuki. “That was awesome. You’re seriously strong,” he said. Yuki took his hand and stood up, brushing snowflakes off her armor. “You’re not so bad yourself, stone boy.” He laughed. “Name’s Tetsuo.” “Yuki.” From the stands, Ryota had his hands on his head. “No way she lost! Tetsuo just lucked out!” Lars smirked slightly. “She let her guard down.” And just like that, the final match of the one-on-one battles came to an end. As the crowd’s cheers began to die down, Shunjiro leaned back in his seat, eyes still glued to the arena floor. He couldn’t stop smiling. “Tetsuo is seriously cool,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Did you see how he smashed her ice blade like it was nothing?” Beside him, Itsuki giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He’s super strong, yeah. But Yuki… wow, she’s so pretty. I love her armor, it was like something out of a fairytale.” Before either of them could say more, the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena. “Attention all participants! The next round will be a three-versus-three team battle. You will have ten minutes to form your teams. Strategy is key. Your time begins… now!” “Three-on-three?” Shunjiro said, eyes widening. “That sounds fun.” Itsuki stood up, determination in her eyes. “Let’s be on the same team, okay?” “Definitely!” Shunjiro nodded quickly. “Now we just need a third… but who?” Without hesitation, Shunjiro’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Yoshinori! I want Yoshinori Raikawa on our team!” Itsuki tilted her head. “Do you think he’ll say yes?” “I dunno…” Shunjiro admitted with a sheepish grin. “But it’s worth a shot!” They hopped down from the stands, weaving through groups of other recruits forming their teams. Down on the ground level, Sora Ayanami and Yoshinori Raikawa were seated side by side under the shade of the arena archway. Sora lounged back with his arms behind his head, silver hair catching the light. “Yo, Yoshinori,” Sora said casually. “Wanna team up? We’d be unstoppable.” Yoshinori didn’t even look at him. “No.” Sora blinked, then let out a laugh. “Damn. Cold.” He shrugged. “Fair though. Wouldn’t be any fun if it was too easy.” That’s when Shunjiro arrived, a little out of breath and clearly nervous. He stood a few feet away from Yoshinori, fidgeting with his sleeve. “Um… hey,” Shunjiro said. “I was wondering… would you maybe want to team up with me and Itsuki for the next round?” Yoshinori turned to look at him, eyes steady and unreadable. Then, to Shunjiro’s shock, he nodded. “Yeah. I think it’ll be interesting.” Shunjiro’s jaw nearly dropped. “Wait, really?!” Sora raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Ah… I see how it is,” he muttered. Yoshinori offered a rare smirk as Sora stood and walked away. At the same time, Lars Tanabe and Ryota Masuda were looking around the plaza, searching for a third teammate. “Yuki said she already promised to join some other girls,” Lars muttered, a little disappointed. “Told us good luck finding someone else.” “Rude,” Ryota scoffed, arms crossed. “Guess we’re just chopped liver.” Sora spotted them and strolled over. “Need a third?” Ryota perked up. “You joining?” Sora gave a lazy shrug. “Why not? Let’s show them how it’s done.” Soon, the ten-minute countdown ended, and the announcer returned to address the arena. “All remaining teams will now be randomly selected to compete in the next round of exams, which will take place in a nearby forest arena. Each match will be broadcast here in the coliseum for your viewing pleasure!” The screens around the arena lit up with aerial shots of a dense, rugged woodland, thick trees, uneven terrain, and a heavy canopy that would make sunlight sparse. The rules of the match became clear the longer they watched. “Okay, I think I get it now,” Shunjiro said as he and his team watched one of the other matches on the screen. “Each side gets a flag. You have to protect yours and steal the enemy’s. First team to grab the opposing flag wins.” Yoshinori folded his arms. “It’s a mix of offense and defense. Strategy and endurance. Makes sense.” “I think you and Itsuki should go for the flag,” he continued. “I’ll hold back and defend ours.” Shunjiro looked surprised. “Wait, really?” Yoshinori nodded. “You’re fast, and she’s a support type. You can cover each other. I’ll keep anyone from getting past me.” Shunjiro smiled. “Alright. Sounds like a plan.” Their group was called soon after. “Team 17 versus Team 6,” the announcer declared. “Team 17: Shunjiro Tenzai, Itsuki Nozomi, and Yoshinori Raikawa. Team 6: Lars Tanabe, Ryota Masuda, and Sora Ayanami.” Shunjiro blinked. “Wait… what?!” “Of all people,” Itsuki groaned. Yoshinori shrugged. “It’s not a coincidence. You scored an S, I scored an A. Itsuki scored a D. Sora’s an A, Lars is a B, and Ryota’s a C.” “It’s all for balance,” he added. “They’re making sure no team gets overwhelmed.” As they approached the forest arena, Shunjiro clenched his fists. “To face Sora again…” he murmured. “This is my chance.” Yoshinori stopped him before they entered the forest. “Don’t let your emotions get the better of you,” he said calmly. “If you run into Sora… don’t fight him.” Shunjiro turned. “But-!” “Come back to me,” Yoshinori said, his voice firm. “Leave Sora to me.” Shunjiro stared at him, searching his face… then nodded slowly. “Alright.” Shunjiro and Itsuki moved swiftly but carefully through the winding forest trails, ducking under low-hanging branches and weaving through tangled roots. The midday sun barely broke through the thick canopy above, painting everything in streaks of shifting gold and green. Shunjiro’s heart thudded in his chest, not just from the running, but from the weight of anticipation. He glanced sideways at Itsuki, who was gripping her staff with both hands, her expression focused. “You good?” he asked, trying to mask the nerves in his voice. “I’m fine,” she said softly, her eyes scanning the path ahead. “You?” Shunjiro chuckled, breathless. “Just hoping I don’t trip over a tree root and ruin the whole plan.” They reached a small hill that overlooked a clearing ringed with thick brush and there, standing tall and proud in the center, fluttered a flag bearing Team 6’s insignia. Shunjiro crouched low, peering through the underbrush. “Wait… is that it?” he whispered. “That’s their flag?” “No guards?” Itsuki whispered back. “That doesn’t feel right…” Shunjiro rose from the brush and took a few cautious steps into the clearing, eyes narrowed. “It can’t be this easy…” As the words left his mouth, a roaring sound split the sky. A blast of concentrated spiritual energy slammed into the earth just feet from him, sending rocks and soil flying. Shunjiro leapt back, hitting the ground hard as smoke and dust shot up around him. “Shunjiro!” Itsuki shouted, rushing to his side with her staff raised and glowing. “Are you okay?!” “Yeah… yeah, I think so,” he coughed, brushing dirt from his face. “But I’m starting to think this is definitely a trap.” A low laugh echoed through the clearing. “Ding ding ding! And we have a winner!” came a playful, cocky voice from above. From a branch high in one of the surrounding trees, a figure dropped down with an exaggerated somersault, landing in a dramatic crouch. Ryota Masuda stood up, brushing off his gi like he’d just finished a performance. His spiky orange hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his matching orange eyes were practically glowing with mischief. “Man, you guys should’ve seen your faces!” he laughed, clutching his stomach. “I’ve been up there for ten minutes waiting for someone to walk in like that! You really thought it was just gonna be sitting here, all lonely and unguarded?” Shunjiro scowled, brushing off his clothes as he stood. “Of course it was too easy… Should’ve known you’d be lurking around somewhere.” Ryota pointed both fingers at him like finger guns. “Heyyy! Don’t sound so disappointed. You get to fight me, after all. That’s a win, right?” Itsuki raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.” Ryota winked at her. “Careful, healer girl. You’re cute, but I don’t pull punches.” Shunjiro stepped protectively in front of her, glaring. “If you lay a hand on her-” “Relax, relax!” Ryota grinned. “I’m not the kind of guy who goes after support units first. I like a good challenge.” He cracked his knuckles, stretching his neck side to side. “So how do you wanna do this? One on one? Two on one? Or do I just show off right now and drop a spiritual nuke on the both of you?” “You talk a lot,” Shunjiro muttered. Ryota’s grin widened. “Sorry about that. I get nervous in silence.” Back at Team 17’s flag, the forest was quiet. The wind rustled lazily through the trees, and the soft flicker of light filtering down gave the clearing an almost dreamlike stillness. Yoshinori Raikawa stood alone. His sharp blue eyes were distant, fixed on nothing in particular as memories from long ago stirred within him. “The world isn’t what they tell you it is,” his father had once said, leaning back in his old chair, a faraway look in his eyes. “There are lands beyond the oceans, mountains that touch the stars, and truths buried deeper than we’ll ever know. This world is larger than you could ever imagine, son. Don’t let these borders fool you.” Yoshinori was just ten years old then, but those words carved themselves into his soul like lightning across the sky. He exhaled slowly, grounding himself back in the present, just in time to hear branches snap. Out from the trees emerged two figures. Sora Ayanami, his silver hair gleaming in the dappled light, wore his usual cocky grin. Lars Tanabe followed close behind, his black cloak trailing behind him like a shadow, the odd-shaped katana at his hip glowing faintly with purple energy. “Well, look who they left behind,” Sora said with a satisfied smirk. “The lightning boy, all by himself. This’ll be quick.” Lars laughed, stretching his arms. “I was hoping you’d be here. You always look like you’re thinking too much.” Sora turned to him with mock seriousness. “Want to take the first swing, or should I?” Lars waved a hand. “Please, be my guest, but I insist on warming him up. You can finish it.” Sora gave a dramatic bow. “What a gentleman.” Lars stepped forward, drawing his magnetic katana with a low hum. The air around the blade shimmered as it activated, a subtle vibration of magnetic energy pulsing around the edge. “You ready, Raikawa?” Lars asked, flicking the blade forward. Yoshinori didn’t respond. His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t focused on Lars’ words, he was analyzing. That blade… it draws in metal. And spiritual energy too. But it doesn’t always pull in spiritual energy so it has to have a cooldown to where he can only use the magnet. As Lars lunged in, blade slashing in a wide arc, Yoshinori sidestepped, barely missing the edge and in one smooth motion, he lifted his right hand and fired two sharp bolts of lightning from his fingertips. The strikes collided with the blade, sending electricity surging down into Lars’ arms. “Agh-!” Lars winced, but grinned through the shock. “Feisty.” He charged again, this time faster. Yoshinori braced himself, trying to move, but suddenly felt a magnetic pull drag at the chestplate strapped to his torso. He grunted, skidding forward. Lars had activated the katana’s pull at just the right time. Yoshinori was yanked off his feet, his body flying toward Lars. The katana slammed against his armor, the impact echoing like a bell. Yoshinori hit the ground, gasping, the breath knocked clean from his lungs. “Now that’s more like it,” Lars said, rolling his shoulders. At that moment, Sora stepped forward, eyeing the flag just behind Yoshinori. “Well, while you two lovebirds are dancing, I’ll just take this,” Sora said, casually strolling toward the flag. But before he could reach it, Yoshinori groaned and pushed himself up, clutching his ribs. “Not yet…” he muttered, eyes blazing with a flicker of stubborn pride. “I’m not done.” Lars turned with interest. “Still got fight left in you?” “I haven’t even started,” Yoshinori said. His tone was soft, but resolute. He stepped back and brought his hands together, his fingers interlocking as he lowered his head in focus. The air shifted. The static around him grew heavier. I can’t keep throwing bolts. My spiritual energy will run low. But if I can land just one… one clean strike, it’ll be enough. Sora raised an eyebrow. “What’s he doing?” Lars frowned, his instincts prickling. “That’s too quiet.” Then, in an instant, Yoshinori’s eyes snapped open. From the heavens above, the clouds began to swirl and with a sudden roar, a bolt of lightning screamed down toward the clearing. But Lars was already reacting. He activated the magnetic pull again, latching onto Yoshinori’s chestplate once more. The force dragged Yoshinori forward, directly into him. Both bodies collided and the lightning bolt missed, slamming into the ground just behind them, exploding in a deafening crack. “Damn,” Yoshinori hissed. “Nice try,” Lars grunted, still recovering from the hit. “But not good enough.” Sora chuckled from the side. “Alright, alright… I think I’ve seen enough.” He casually rolled his shoulders and stepped forward, his adaptation aura already beginning to shimmer around him. “Tag me in,” he said. “Let’s end this.” Back at Team 6’s flag. Shunjiro dashed in close, closing the distance between him and Ryota before another spiritual blast could be fired. He moved low, fists clenched, aiming to keep Ryota on the defensive. Itsuki darted to the side, making a break for the flag while Ryota was preoccupied. But Ryota wasn’t so easily distracted. Catching her movement out of the corner of his eye, he twisted around and raised his palm, sending a spiraling blast of spiritual energy right at her. “Itsuki, look out!” Shunjiro shouted. With practiced grace, Itsuki skidded to a stop and spun, thrusting her staff forward. A glowing barrier erupted in front of her just in time and the blast smashed into it, flaring bright and cracking the surface like glass, but it held. Shunjiro took the opening. In the instant Ryota’s attention was off him, he launched a clean right hook that crashed into Ryota’s jaw with a satisfying crack. “Eyes on me, dude,” Shunjiro growled. Ryota stumbled back, shaking his head, more annoyed than hurt. “Ugh, man! Lars is gonna kill me if you two get that flag…” He rubbed his cheek and sighed. “He said he’d punch me in the throat if I slacked off…” Shunjiro raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Real motivating leadership.” With a loud grunt, Ryota spread his feet and thrust both hands skyward. “Alright, you leave me no choice!” Spiritual energy surged up his arms as an orb spiraled into the air, rising higher and higher. Shunjiro’s eyes widened. “Not that move again… Itsuki, get down!” The orb exploded high above the forest canopy, and in a flash, smaller blasts scattered outward like a firework display. A storm of spiritual projectiles rained down from above, painting the sky with streaks of violet light. Itsuki threw up another barrier with her staff, gritting her teeth as blast after blast collided against it. Cracks spiderwebbed across the shield. Shunjiro wasn’t so lucky. One of the blasts struck near his feet, blasting him off balance and sending him skidding across the dirt. Dust and smoke clouded the clearing. “Shunjiro!” Itsuki called out, abandoning the flag and rushing to his side. She dropped to her knees, staff glowing with healing light as she pressed her hands to his chest. Golden energy pulsed from her fingertips, weaving through Shunjiro’s bruised ribs and battered muscles. Warmth spread through him, washing away the ache. Shunjiro exhaled sharply and blinked. “…Thanks. Again.” “You really need to stop getting blown up,” Itsuki said with a faint smirk, but her voice carried real concern. “I’m working on it,” he muttered. He pushed himself to his feet, fists clenched once more. Ryota was still standing, panting, a bit winded from his wide-scale attack. But Shunjiro could feel it, something inside him was stirring. His spiritual energy, wild and untamed before, began to surge and focus. Sparks flickered along his skin. His movements sharpened. His speed increased. He blitzed forward. Ryota’s eyes widened. “H-Huh?!” Too late. Shunjiro landed a flurry of strikes, a jab to the shoulder, a punch to the gut, a spinning elbow to the ribs, one after another in a precise, flowing rhythm. Ryota stumbled back, completely on the defensive. Itsuki, still nearby, gasped as she watched Shunjiro move like he never had before. “He’s… amazing,” she whispered. “He’s finally fighting like he means it.” With a final uppercut to the stomach, Shunjiro sent Ryota reeling backward, the wind knocked completely from him. Ryota’s eyes bulged, his cheeks puffed… And then… He threw up. All over Shunjiro. “…Eww! Gross!” Shunjiro recoiled, leaping back with a horrified expression. “What the actual hell, Ryota?!” Ryota collapsed to his knees, groaning, pale and disoriented. “I didn’t mean to-hrrrgh…” Shunjiro was gagging. “My shirt. My face. It’s in my mouth!” Itsuki, rushing to him once more, barely held back a laugh. “Okay okay hold still,” she said, stifling giggles as she reached into her cloak and pulled out a small handkerchief. “This is disgusting,” Shunjiro grumbled as she wiped at his face. “This is the worst fight I’ve ever had.” “You’ve definitely been through worse,” she teased, wiping the edge of his nose. “At least this time you didn’t get hurt.” “I’d rather get hurt,” he said with a shiver, glancing down at his shirt. “Here we go,” she said, finally finishing the cleanup. “But I’m not gonna lie… the smell? It’s gonna stick.” Shunjiro groaned. “Kill me now.” She smiled. “Come on. We’ve got the flag. Let’s get out of here.” He turned back toward Ryota, who was still on the ground, face buried in the dirt, mumbling incoherently. Shunjiro shook his head. Itsuki waved the flag high, calling, “Let’s return to Yoshinori!” Together, the two took off toward their side of the forest, the flag in hand, and Shunjiro dripping in regret. Yoshinori stood still, his blue eyes locked on Sora, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. Across from him, Sora cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, exuding effortless confidence. Lars leaned back against a tree nearby, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with amusement. This was it. Yoshinori’s mind raced. Adaptation… That was Sora’s ability. Once he was hit with an attack enough times, he developed an invisible barrier, nullifying that specific power completely. Not even a fluke could break through after that. If I don’t finish this in one move… it’s over. Sora didn’t wait. A smirk curled across his face as spiritual energy ignited around his fist like a flame. In a flash, he closed the distance, swinging wide. Yoshinori shifted sideways, the punch narrowly missing as it slammed into the ground with a thunderous crack, fissures spiderwebbing out beneath them. Yoshinori didn’t flinch. He’s fast, but reckless. He raised his hand and flicked two quick bolts of lightning from his fingers. The first sizzled through the air and struck Sora’s shoulder, earning a grunt of pain. The second vanished just before reaching him. Yoshinori narrowed his eyes. Sora’s grin widened. “So… you figured it out,” he said, shaking off the burn. “One shock is all I needed. That trick won’t work again.” Yoshinori said nothing, but inside, confirmation clicked into place. He wasn’t bluffing. If I give him time to adjust, the battle’s done. Sora tilted his head, casual and cocky. “So, what’s the plan, genius?” He flexed his fingers, his spiritual energy flaring up around him. “Better hit me hard. Hit me like it’s your last move, because it is.” Yoshinori clenched his fists. Electricity danced across his arms, crackling over his skin like living serpents. Sparks hissed at his fingertips, and arcs of lightning pulsed around his boots, singing the ground beneath him. He exhaled sharply. Alright then. One strike. Then he moved. Each step he took across the dirt sent electricity surging outward, lightning flashing around his feet and snapping into the earth with violent force. The air thickened with pressure, a storm manifesting from his presence alone. The very ground quaked as bolts of rogue lightning lashed out from the sky and cracked into the terrain, carving trenches into the battlefield. Sora’s smirk twitched, eyes narrowing. The environment itself had turned into a warzone of charged energy, and even he was forced to duck and weave around the unpredictable strikes raining down from above. Yoshinori blitzed forward, a lightning storm in human form. Now! He drove his fist forward and from his knuckles erupted a concentrated wave of pure lightning. The impact collided with Sora’s chest like a meteor. Sora’s eyes widened, his muscles locking up as electricity flooded through his nervous system. Sparks flew from his mouth as his scream was lost in the crackling explosion of power. Then Yoshinori flipped backward, boots skidding across the ruined earth. He landed hard, crouched, breathing heavy. Above them, the sky split with a blinding flash and a bolt of divine lightning came crashing down like judgment itself, slamming into Sora with pinpoint precision. A deafening boom echoed across the forest clearing. Smoke and dust exploded outward in a brilliant flare of white-blue light. When the haze cleared… Sora lay sprawled out, unconscious. His silver hair was singed at the tips, his chest rising and falling weakly. His smirk was gone, replaced by silence. Lars blinked. “Damn…” Yoshinori stood slowly, sweat beading on his forehead, his arms still humming with residual power. He looked over at the smoldering crater where Sora had stood and allowed himself a small breath of satisfaction. “One move,” he whispered. The thunderous echoes of battle cracked through the forest. Booms, flashes of light, and shuddering tremors rippled through the trees as Shunjiro and Itsuki sprinted through the undergrowth. “Was that lightning?!” Itsuki gasped, clutching the flag tightly as she ran. Shunjiro didn’t answer, he could feel it. The spiritual pressure in the air. Wild and electric. It had to be Yoshinori. “We’re close!” he shouted. They burst through the last row of trees and into the clearing just in time to see it. Sora was lying motionless on the ground, smoke still curling from his scorched uniform. His silver hair was singed. And standing above him, calm and steady, was Yoshinori Raikawa. His expression unreadable, his eyes glowing faintly with residual energy. Shunjiro skidded to a halt, breath catching in his throat. “Yoshi…” Yoshinori looked over slowly. From the other side of the clearing, Lars stood still, arms folded, eyes locked on the new arrivals. His blade was already sheathed. He hadn’t moved to attack. He simply watched. When he saw the flag clutched in Itsuki’s hands, his gaze narrowed. “Tch,” Lars muttered. “So… Ryota lost.” Itsuki didn’t speak. She strode forward briskly, stepping between them, and planted the captured flag beside their own. Her heart was pounding, her arms aching, but she stood tall. There was a pause. Then- “Team 17 wins!” The announcer’s voice echoed through the clearing. The forest came alive with cheers from the distant coliseum, the screens lighting up with highlights of the battle. Shunjiro looked between Yoshinori and the two fallen members of Team 6. “We… we actually won?” Yoshinori exhaled slowly and nodded once. “Yeah. We did.” Itsuki let out a breathless laugh. “I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Shunjiro beamed. “You were amazing, Itsuki! That barrier, your healing, just… everything!” She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Lars stepped forward slowly, stopping beside Sora’s unconscious body. He glanced down at his teammate, then back at Yoshinori. “You got lucky,” he said flatly, but there was no venom in his voice, only respect. Yoshinori didn’t reply. Lars smirked faintly and knelt beside Sora. “Next time… he’ll be ready.” As he slung Sora’s arm over his shoulder, they trudged back toward the arena clearing. Shunjiro, Itsuki, and Yoshinori followed behind him, walking in quiet triumph. The forest trail was calm now, only the soft crunch of their footsteps filling the air. Their first team battle behind them, their bond newly forged. Victory was theirs.