The air in the stands was heavy, saturated with a mix of fear and excitement. Sweat dripped down the contestants' foreheads as they waited eagerly and anxiously for the announcement of the next round.
Stray moved toward the arena with calm steps, yet each one carried the weight of a man who was utterly confident in himself. On the other side, his opponent, contestant number 277, walked hesitantly, as if being dragged toward an inevitable fate. His pale face and wide eyes betrayed a deep fear he could not hide.
From among the crowd, a voice rang out... contestant number 290... his tone laced with sarcasm and certainty: "That idiot still insists on fighting? I bet a single hit will knock him out cold."
Soft chuckles echoed from some of the spectators, as if they agreed with him, while the rest continued to stare in silence. But amidst it all, Nott watched the scene quietly. His eyes never left Stray, wondering about the secret behind this collective terror that gripped everyone at the mere mention of his name.
When the two opponents finally stood in the arena, a commanding voice rang out... Marvelous announced the match with firm authority.
Marvelous: "The match begins now!"
It took only a moment... a mere blink of an eye... before contestant 277 collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
A shockwave of disbelief rippled through the stands. The once-loud crowd was now drowning in heavy silence, their eyes wide, struggling to process what had happened at such an astonishing speed.
Marvelous approached contestant 277, kneeling beside him to check his condition. Then, rising to his feet, he looked toward the crowd and declared in a steady voice:
Marvelous: "The winner of this round is contestant number 22."
Only hushed whispers could be heard, accompanied by unsteady breaths scattered here and there. Meanwhile, Stray returned to his seat with calm, unhurried steps, as if he had done nothing worth mentioning.
The crowd murmured, torn between admiration and fear. How could someone take down their opponent with such ease? And how could his mere presence instill this much terror?
The atmosphere in the hall grew even heavier, tension etched onto the faces of the spectators. Some tried to steady themselves, while others were consumed by curiosity, eager to see who would be next to face this quiet giant.
Marvelous stood at the center of the arena, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with stern intensity before his voice cut through the silence.
Marvelous: "And now... the eighty-fourth round!"
The stands erupted in noise once more, with everyone scanning the crowd, searching for the next chosen numbers.
The screen flickered, rapidly selecting at random, then gradually slowed down until it settled on two names: contestant number 628 and contestant number 97.
Nott: "[So, it's my turn...]"
Nott and contestant 628 rose from their seats and made their way toward the arena with steady steps, as if walking toward an inescapable fate. The air was thick with anticipation laced with doubt, while all eyes locked onto them like drawn arrows.
As he walked, Nott felt the stares from the stands piercing through him... a mixture of pity and ridicule, like a silent trial. Some eyes gleamed with open disdain, while others seemed to wait for his downfall, ready to justify their mockery.
A voice echoed, carrying the number 91, filling the stands with a mocking laugh: "Heh... It seems that Noctis has reached its peak in absurdity, allowing children to participate now."
A faint laughter spread across the area, as though in agreement with what had been said. However, Nott didn't turn, his eyes focused on the arena.
Nott and the number 628 reached the arena.
Number 628 said: "Boy, wouldn't it be more fitting for you to withdraw? As you can see, I'll be ridiculed by the audience."
Nott remained silent in the middle of the arena, his eyes calmly observing the surrounding scene. He was fully aware that the upcoming round would be different, but nothing could prepare him for what was about to unfold.
At that moment, an unexpected silence fell over the arena. All eyes turned toward Marvelous, who stood at the center of the arena, his features serious, as he raised his hand to announce the start of the round.
Marvelous, his steady voice piercing the stillness: "I announce the start of round eighty-four, begin now!"
The instant he spoke those words, something unexpected happened. The horizon suddenly split open, as if the very sky itself had decided to commemorate this pivotal moment in the history of these battles. The glowing celestial twilight sparkled, as though it had emerged from the depths of the universe itself, emitting vibrant and strange colors that moved through the sky as if dancing in celebration of the coming moment. The light filled the horizon, and for a moment, it seemed as though time itself had paused, as if the universe itself had celebrated the emergence of this scene into existence.
In that unbelievable instant, Nott moved. It wasn't just an ordinary movement; it was a flash, a burst of speed. He raised his leg into position, then instantly Teleported. It was as though his body tore through time itself in a single moment. In a fraction of a second, his right leg rose in a deadly arc, delivering a powerful kick to the man's face.
The sound of bones breaking was deafening, and drops of blood flew through the air, sparkling beneath the celestial twilight like sparks of fire, scattering on the ground. The man's nose shattered under the force of the kick, and his body, bearing the number 628, lifted momentarily, only to crash down with a thunderous impact. The ground itself trembled from the force of his fall.
A chilling silence enveloped the arena. In the stands, breaths were held. Some stared at the glowing sky in disbelief, while others were still in shock, unable to believe what had just happened. Eyes remained fixed on the arena, observing the man who had ended the round in such a rapid manner.
A spectator in the stands, holding the number 62, whispered, as though his voice was searching for an explanation: "W... What? What just happened?"
But, as with all unexpected moments, silence turned into a storm. The stands erupted with cheers and screams, escalating in an unprecedented frenzy, as though the sea itself had burst forth, and the waves were crashing down on everyone. Feet stomped on the ground with force, voices collided, while eyes focused on Nott, who stood proudly in the center of the battlefield, as if everything around him had disappeared, leaving him alone, surrounded by the light that radiated from the celestial glow.
In the midst of this uproar, Marvelous' voice cut through the noise, decisive: "The winner of round eighty-four... number 97!"
The crowd around the arena began to grow denser, and discussions erupted everywhere. The analysis and speculations clashed in everyone's minds, as everyone tried to make sense of what had just transpired.
Then, amidst the noise, a single voice pierced through the clamor, as though a flash of light cutting through the darkness. A person holding the number 641 stood, waving his hand, and shouted with a booming voice: "Vesper!!!"
Nott, still standing in the center of the arena, slowly raised his head toward the crowd, his eyes coldly gleaming. He showed no reaction; instead, he calmly turned his body and began to leave the arena amidst the explosive wave of excitement surrounding him.
The crowd, still overwhelmed by the echoes of that moment, began to chant the name "Vesper," a name that now carried a special weight in the atmosphere. Everyone started calling Nott by this name, filled with fervor and emotion, as though the name itself had become a symbol of light in the darkness, like the twilight that had illuminated the sky just moments before.
Nott, walking with steady steps, paused for a moment, then glanced at the crowd with a mocking expression. but Nott had already left them behind, continuing his path toward his seat, while the celestial light still filled the horizon, as though the sky itself had not left this extraordinary scene.
While some watched in silence and curiosity, Nott glanced at Stray, who appeared indifferent to what had just occurred. Despite Nott's annoyance at Stray's disregard, he headed to his seat unconcerned.
Marvelous continued calling out the competitors with a sharp and deep voice, echoing through the arena like cannon shots, announcing the start of one round after another. Each round pushed Nott to the limits of his strength, while the ground beneath his feet cracked and crumbled under the weight of the fierce battle. Cheers and chants reverberated from every corner of the stands, as if the crowd were waiting for a moment of true explosion.
In one of the rounds, a massive, imposing opponent appeared, his muscles like mountains, and his eyes burning with intense rage, sparking as though they were an unquenchable fire. His steps hit the ground heavily, and every movement he made felt like a hammer striking iron. But, like everyone before him, he was just another part of this brutal game, a game that drained every drop of life from its competitors.
But Nott was not like them. He wasn't a trained fighter, nor did he possess the physical strength to face such a beast, but he had something else. Something strange and unique... his ability.
Every time his opponent drew near, Nott would vanish and appear somewhere else in an instant. He moved like a shadow, popping up behind his opponent, disappearing again, leaving them in a state of bewilderment and confusion. He used his ability not only to avoid the blows but to get close to the weak spots and take his opponent down gradually.
Every move Nott made was part of a carefully planned strategy. He would disappear from sight, only to reappear in unexpected places. Again and again, he struck at sensitive points; the knee, the abdomen, the arms, areas where the opponent would lose their balance. His strikes were swift, precise, as if moving through time itself.
In these moments, the ground trembled with the force of the opponent's strikes landing on nothing but air. The monster would charge toward Nott in blind rage, only to find that he was gone, appearing from behind, causing his body to buckle under the force of each successive blow. Every move was calculated, every teleport had a purpose, and every strike hurt more than the last.
The opponent teetered between growing fury and mounting confusion. In the end, he couldn't endure any longer. With every blow, his body weakened, until he found himself crashing to the ground, completely broken, exhausted by the relentless attacks he couldn't respond to.
The arena cracked more under the weight of the battle, as if it too were suffering with each movement, each clash. With every new round, the ground scattered with debris and fractures, an expression of the violence tearing it apart. Meanwhile, Nott kept fighting relentlessly, battling with childlike courage, and with every moment he advanced, he proved to everyone that strength is not always what determines the outcome; it's the intelligence and ability to adapt to harsh circumstances.
As Nott continued his fights, he went through five rounds, each with accumulating pain and nerves stretched to their breaking point. Each opponent appeared stronger than the last, but each time, Nott proved himself, fighting with an inexplicable power, as if roaring from the very depths of hell. Every strike, every movement, every step took him to the brink of destruction, yet his resolve drove him forward despite it all.
The excitement in the stands grew wildly. Breaths were held in chests, and everyone watched with deadly anticipation. The sounds of clapping and cheering mixed with the sound of exchanged blows, as if they were composing a symphony of pain and destruction. The rounds became more brutal, and the ground appeared covered in fractures and cracks, bearing witness to the violence and unrelenting combat.
But Nott kept pushing forward, despite everything. Even as he felt his body might collapse at any moment, his spirit drove him onward, holding on to one dream... to remain standing despite it all.
Then came round 162.
Marvelous: "Now, I will announce the participants in this round."
The screen began to choose randomly, and in a moment filled with tension, the names appeared: "number 22 "Stray" and 97 "Nott."
A silence spread across the crowd, a shiver of anxiety running through them.
A person carrying number 928 said: "I... I... It's Vesper!... And Stray!!"
In a moment filled with excitement and enthusiasm, the audience's screams erupted in response to their thrill. Many believed it would be a strong competition, while others thought Vesper would end up like all those who had faced Stray.
Nott and Stray made their way to the arena. Upon their arrival, Marvelous announced the start of the round.
Marvelous slowly raised his hand, as if time had stopped between his breaths. The moment of calm before the storm. While the crowd waited with bated breath, they all heard his quiet voice, but it was laden with a sense of dread.
Marvelous: "Now, I declare the start of round 85. Let the match begin."
The moment he uttered those words, the ground itself trembled slightly, as if it too knew that something terrifying was about to unfold. Nott's steps felt heavy, as though they were weighed down with iron. A strange, deep feeling overwhelmed him, something creeping up from within, pressing against his chest. Every step felt like it was dragging him downward, away from the arena, away from the crowd. But he knew there was no escape. It was simply a walk into a fate he couldn't avoid.
At that moment, without anyone noticing, Stray made a subtle but cruel move. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.
In that single instant, everything around Nott shifted. The air became thick, suffocating. It felt as if the very atmosphere had filled with rot. Breathing became a burden, each inhale felt like it was stealing life from him, little by little. Then he felt something else, a presence curling around him. A heavy, ominous aura began to wrap around his body like a rope of fire, searing with painful intensity. There was no escaping it. The aura, this invisible force, felt like a curse. It settled into him, and his mind could not comprehend what was happening.
The air grew hot, as though the world itself were pressing against him from all sides. His lungs could barely manage to pull in enough air, and his heart beat wildly, as if trying to flee from his chest. The noise of the world faded away, and everything became consumed by the suffocating dark, except for that sinister presence surrounding him. His eyes widened with terror, and every breath he took seemed more labored. His heart hammered violently, and it felt as though it might explode. The suffocating grip of that aura tightened around him. The world around him turned into an overwhelming blackness, and his mind struggled to make sense of what was happening.
His vision blurred, and he could see nothing but the menacing darkness closing in. He tried to focus, but each effort made the pain in his body and the weight on his mind heavier. The very air around him felt like it was pulling him deeper into an abyss. He could not think, could not react, trapped in an invisible snare of terror.
And then, Stray approached him. With each step, the air seemed to vibrate with dread. His voice, sharp and terrifying, sliced through the silence, reaching into Nott's very soul. It felt as though the sound itself came from another world, deep and unsettling.
Stray: "Boy... the world is far more complicated and profound than you think."
Stray's voice was like death itself, carrying the scent of finality, the scent of earth that no one would return from. The voice hunted his mind, coiled around him like a tightening noose, suffocating him in fear. Each word was a weight on his crumbling mind. In that moment, he felt as if his mind were falling apart, his thoughts shattering and scattering, each attempt to focus only increasing the pain in his body and the pressure on his soul.
His heart pounded violently, as if it were about to burst out of his chest, his ribs shaking erratically, syncing with the tremors of his collapsing mind. His body trembled uncontrollably, as if fear itself had infiltrated every bone in his structure. Every part of him fought against movement, as if each muscle and nerve were refusing to obey his command, each thought fighting to stay coherent.
Breathing felt impossible. It was as if the air had stopped flowing into his lungs, each breath suffocating him further. His senses reacted to the light around him, but it was all just a fleeting blur in the darkness. His voice was gone, as if his tongue had frozen in his throat. His eyes widened involuntarily, desperately trying to comprehend what was happening around him, but all he saw was a fog of terror.
Then his emotions collided, and Stray's words began to blend with the pounding of his heart. His mind screamed, trying to save him, trying to escape the time and place that had suddenly closed in on him. But his body was in complete paralysis, unable to do anything.
Stray: "Did you come here with arrogance, relying on your pathetic ability?... Or did you live a miserable, cruel life and come here willingly to meet your end?"
His voice pierced the thick air, mingling with the presence that enveloped Nott, as though the words themselves were poison to his mind. Those words settled within him, echoing in his thoughts, drawing him closer to madness.
Stray's thoughts echoed in his mind, reverberating like shadows in the dark corners of his consciousness. Nott tried to focus, to gather some semblance of control, but each attempt only deepened the weight of his pain. Each second that passed dragged him further into an abyss where his mind and body were consumed by the suffocating terror that surrounded him.
In that moment, Nott knew there was only one thing he could do; remain silent, unable to move, his entire being trapped in the suffocating grip of fear.
Stray: "You think your superpower will solve all your problems, but the truth is more complicated than you think."
His voice was like a sharp knife, cutting through the air and reaching deep into Nott's heart, leaving behind a wound that wouldn't heal. Each word carried a heavy weight, like fiery rays scorching his soul.
Stray: "In this harsh world, the power you believe will protect you is nothing more than decoration on the edge of a deep abyss. It's not a gift that comes without effort, but a product of pain and suffering... endless torment."
As Nott screamed in the depths of pain, he felt as though his body was shattering under the weight of torment. His ribs felt like they were on the verge of breaking from the pressure, and every breath he took felt like a heavy ghost squeezing his chest. His eyes were shattered, shifting between the darkness enveloping him and the escalating pain tearing through his mind. Every part of his body throbbed like the sound of death's drums, and with every beat, his pain intensified, pushing his mind to the brink of explosion. His hands trembled, paralyzed as though they no longer belonged to his body, consumed by a feeling of terror that tore his heart into pieces.
Then, with each step from Stray, he drew closer.
Stray: "Nothing will save you from the harsh truth; everything you possess is nothing but a mask that hides your true weakness..."
Nott stood there, listening to Stray's words as he endured unbearable pain. His body felt heavy, as though it were getting heavier with each passing second. His legs could barely support him, and his mind was about to explode under the immense pressure.
Every word from Stray was like an arrow piercing his heart and mind, feeding the despair and frustration that were slowly consuming him. Nott tried to hold on, to gather his strength, but the pain gnawed at his soul, and the darkness swallowed his vision.
In a moment of devastating agony, Nott screamed, as though trying to rid himself of the unbearable weight threatening to tear his mind and body apart. But his voice rebelled against him, leaving him only with the echo of his screams, fading away into the emptiness.
The crowd watched in silence, their faces distorted with terror and anxiety. The scene before them was more than a battle of bodies... it was a psychological war, a deep internal struggle that Nott was fighting, one that drained every ounce of him.
Stray, with a harsh tone, watched Nott collapse under the pressure: "If you keep going like this, you won't have a sane mind left. You'll break... you'll die inside before you die here."
Nott, screaming at the top of his lungs, gasping for air, barely able to breathe from the excruciating pain: "Ah... a... aaaa... SHUT UP! I don't care!! I have nothing left to lose!!!"
Stray laughed sarcastically, his voice dripping with cruel pleasure at Nott's suffering: "Heh... So, that's how it is."
With every word Stray spoke, the pressure on Nott intensified. His body began to shake uncontrollably, like a puppet on the verge of collapse. Every part of him screamed in rejection, but his body was crumbling under the weight of an inescapable force.
Then, one of the spectators, with a trembling voice, nervously asked: "Ah... hey, is he going to die here?"
And in a terrifying moment, Nott screamed with all his might, gasping, as if the pain was tearing his soul apart: "AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
A scream from the depths of his suffering, as if it was the last trace of his humanity before sinking into eternal darkness.
At that moment, the voice of Lorian came through the phone, calm and decisive.
"Now."
The voice cut through the silence like a knife through the air, shattering the stillness that had enveloped the arena. Time suddenly snapped into motion, tearing apart the quiet that had settled over the scene. There was no doubt... this was the moment everyone had been waiting for.
Suddenly, Ken entered and stood in front of Nott, breaking the suffocating aura surrounding him. The aura, which felt as though it might choke the life out of him, vanished in an instant like a mirage. Silence descended again, but this time, it was charged with the electric tension of the moment. Breaths in the stands were held, as if time itself had frozen, everyone watching, waiting to see what would happen next.
Stray, his tone dripping with contempt, spoke softly: "Wolf... I didn't expect someone like you to show up to help this boy."
Ken, observing Not for a moment, leaned forward slightly and looked at him directly with his steady eyes. He spoke in a voice that was calm yet filled with concern: "kid... are you okay?"
Nott was like a broken, shattered shell, his body slowly collapsing to the ground, as if the entire world had flipped upside down. But Ken was faster, grabbing him with powerful arms, lifting him swiftly, and supporting him tightly. The strength in Ken's muscles as he lifted Nott spoke volumes of the connection between them, as though it was more than just an attempt at saving him.
As Stray observed the scene, his eyes flickered between Ken and Nott, as if searching for something invisible, a piece of an intricate puzzle. Then, suddenly, Stray disappeared from view. It was as if the earth had swallowed him whole. Ken's face showed a moment of surprise, before he quickly grabbed his phone.
Ken, who felt uncomfortable with Stray's sudden disappearance, turned quickly to Nott, then looked around to see the area free of any immediate threats. He immediately picked up his phone and dialed Lorian in a rush, his eyes never leaving Not, who was barely breathing in his arms.
Ken: "He's gone."
Lorian responded, her voice as sharp as ever: "It's fine. Go treat the boy. I'll take care of the rest."
Ken, who had no time to rest or ponder this unexpected twist, responded simply in a firm, short tone: "Alright."
As Ken drove quickly toward the "Steel" hotel, the events around them seemed to escalate like a storm. The air inside the car was thick with tension, charged with unspoken fears. Nott, drowning in pain that threatened to tear him apart, could hardly grasp what was happening. His vision blurred in a dense fog of agony and darkness, as if reality itself were trying to disappear before his eyes.
Meanwhile, Ken drove with unwavering eyes, undistracted by anything other than reaching the doctor as fast as possible. Every moment seemed to drain more energy from Nott, his trembling fingers curling weakly in his coat as if his body could no longer hold itself together.
At that moment, Marvelous was still standing still, reflecting on everything he had been through, his thoughts moving between the present and the past, wondering how they had come to this point. He watched the events unfold with a tense silence, observing without comment, until his phone suddenly vibrated. It was a call from Lorian.
Marvelous, who had been frozen in place for so long, finally picked up the phone, saying: "Hello, My Lady... yes, it happened exactly as you predicted."
The voice on the other end was quiet, but Marvelous could feel the unease.
Marvelous: "Most of them... fell into the trap of the fake test."
A deep silence followed between their words, and then the call was abruptly ended, leaving the room to be consumed by darkness.