A wave of dread rippled through the battlefield as Vera Corbin, leader of the Smiling Rats, was consumed by Renji Kuroya's savage fury. The once-smug grin that had earned her faction its infamous name was long gone, replaced by sheer, unadulterated horror. Her body crumpled under the weight of Renji's overwhelming assault, vanishing beneath a surge of energy too monstrous for anyone to counter.
Asano of the Black Crow stood rooted in place. For the first time in years, the calculating glint in his eye faltered. He could do nothing but watch—helplessly, furiously—as Vera was eliminated. There had been many in the underworld who despised her methods, her theatrics, her vanity. But no one could deny her knack for survival. And yet here she was—erased by a man who didn't even fully unleash his mutation. Asano's clenched jaw twitched, his mind racing with the implications.
Across the battlefield, the remaining members of the Smiling Rats had lost their cohesion. Their confidence, shaken after Vera's brutal fall, crumbled completely. No longer a coordinated unit, they were nothing more than prey.
Takeshi Mori charged in first, a blur of motion and raw muscle. His fists broke through defensive stances like paper walls. Yumi Takahashi followed, her body flickering in and out of the shadows, silent as death, striking with eerie precision. Kaito Nakamura surged behind them, crackling with electric rage, his every punch echoing like a thunderclap across the arena.
Each attack was driven not just by strategy but by emotion—a mix of anger, loyalty, and desperation to protect their fallen comrade Mika.
Because Mika Ishida—brilliant, determined Mika—was slipping. Her control was faltering. The mutation that had gifted her with powerful telekinesis was now threatening to consume her. Her eyes flickered, blood vessels burst around her temples, and her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts.
Her vision was fracturing, not just physically but psychically. She could feel objects, movements, a dozen things at once—too much at once. The weight of every gravitational fluctuation, the pull of metal and flesh and air, all screaming in her mind.
And still, she gave one last roar.
With a shriek that tore across the tournament grounds, Mika unleashed her final telekinetic burst. The energy exploded outward, flinging enemies—leaders and grunts alike—into the arena walls. Kiyoshi Takeda of the Forgotten Dawn twisted mid-air and landed on his feet, though barely. Dante Varek of the Crimson Pact rolled, snarling, his eyes flashing in disbelief. Asano, forced to throw up a kinetic barrier, was still slammed to his knees.
And then, silence.
Mika collapsed, her body limp, eyes fluttering shut.
Renji was at her side before anyone could blink, skidding across broken stone and energy-scorched terrain. He knelt beside her, checking her vitals—breathing, pulse—relieved to find her alive. His jaw tightened. That final attack had cost her dearly. He swore under his breath.
But while Renji shielded Mika with his body, his other teammates took on her burden.
Takeshi roared like a beast unchained, barreling through two Smiling Rats members. Yumi's shadows enveloped a trio of opponents, swallowing them whole in a dance of death. Kaito, sweat-drenched and eyes glowing electric-blue, became lightning incarnate, zapping three enemies into unconsciousness with pinpoint strikes.
One by one, the remaining members of the Smiling Rats dropped. Desperation turned to resignation in their eyes. They fought to the bitter end—but it was over. When the last one fell, Kaito stumbled forward and raised his arm, bloodied but victorious.
The arena trembled.
Then, the long, booming cry of the tournament horns echoed across the blood-stained coliseum.
The elimination round was over.
The Spectators exploded into wild, deafening cheers. The walls of the underground tournament hall vibrated with the force of their excitement. Criminals, mercenaries, rogue mutants, and underworld elites all howled in approval, stomping and throwing objects in celebration.
Renji gently lifted Mika in his arms, standing amid the rubble, the smoke, the quiet groans of the fallen. Takeshi, Yumi, and Kaito converged around him—wounded but standing.
And across from them, three faction leaders stood stunned.
Asano's eyes burned with silent fury.
Kiyoshi Takeda's brow furrowed, a rare expression of uncertainty tainting his otherwise composed demeanor.
Dante Varek simply folded his arms and let out a slow exhale, as though recalculating everything he thought he knew.
One thing was clear to all: Renji and his team had just shifted the balance of the tournament.
And now, with one faction down and three to go, the real games were about to begin.
---
The thunderous roar of the crowd still echoed throughout the tournament arena, a wave of chaotic excitement sweeping across the underworld spectators. The elimination round was over, the Smiling Rats faction was no more, and Renji Kuroya's team stood bloodied, exhausted, but undeniably victorious.
In the exclusive VIP area, a sharp cracking sound split the tense air—a thick crystal glass shattered in the mechanical grip of a metal hand.
"Tch..." Draven muttered, his voice low and graveled with disbelief. Shards of the crushed glass fell between his gloved fingers, his cybernetic arm twitching ever so slightly as if mirroring his inner frustration. His eyes, usually calm and calculating, were now narrowed in sharp, bewildered focus as he stared down at the tournament stage.
His gaze locked onto Mika Ishida's unconscious figure, cradled protectively by Renji, who still radiated a cold, animalistic aura of dominance despite the fading battle.
Beside him, Iris sat upright and utterly still, silver hair shimmering like a blade under the ambient lights. Her striking features, usually relaxed in a posture of detached confidence, were now tight with tension. Her fingers laced together, resting under her chin as her eyes fixated on the battered team. Then, slowly, her mouth pressed into a firm line.
"They're more dangerous than we anticipated," she finally said, voice low enough only for Draven to hear.
Draven grunted in agreement, still staring. "Renji was always the anomaly we were watching for, but that girl… That outburst wasn't just some fluke. Her mutation evolved mid-combat."
Iris stood without another word. Her sudden movement caused a quiet stir among the other VIPs who had sensed the gravity of what had just occurred.
"She's a variable," Iris continued, her tone clipped. "And we don't deal well with variables."
Draven turned, lingering a second longer, his mechanical fingers flexing as though itching for action. Then, with a glance at the remains of the shattered glass on the floor, he followed Iris out, his heavy boots clanking softly against the polished floor.
They disappeared down a private corridor, the exit guarded by silent, suited figures with emotionless eyes.
Elsewhere, in the swaying chaos of the lower spectator stands, Elyra stood motionless amid a sea of cheering lunatics. Her silver-blonde hair framed a gentle, rare smile, and her golden eyes shimmered with mischief.
"They did it," she whispered to herself, folding her arms. Around her, bodies jumped and shouted, but she remained calm, watching as Renji carefully lifted Mika and stepped away from the battlefield.
"He actually managed to rein it in… barely," she murmured. "And her? She's… interesting."
Despite the madness, Elyra didn't rush to leave. Instead, she stood in silent observation, as though trying to memorize every detail of the aftermath—every breathless reaction, every twitch in Renji's clawed fingers, every expression of disbelief from the remaining faction leaders.
Back in the secure halls beneath the arena, Iris and Draven walked briskly, their footsteps echoing in sync.
"We'll need to adjust the operation," Iris said sharply. "Renji won't be easy to isolate anymore—not with that team. Especially now that Mika's mutation is in flux."
Draven scowled. "They'll stick close to each other now. They've tasted real battle. Blood-forged loyalty. Separating them will be a damn sight harder than we anticipated."
"Then we shift our approach," Iris replied coldly. "We don't go for brute force. We break the link that binds them."
Draven paused as they reached a steel door guarded by two agents. He turned to her, brow furrowed. "You mean Mika."
"She's unstable," Iris said flatly. "Emotionally and biologically. She's the crack in their armor."
A long silence passed between them. Then, Iris stepped through the door, her voice trailing behind like the whisper of a blade.
"Start the contingency protocols. We need to dissect every second of that match. And find out just how far they're all willing to go."