Rhys barely had time to breathe.

Zenith stepped again—no sound, no motion blur, just gone and then there, like the shadows themselves had placed him.

Another slash came down.

Rhys blocked—

CLAAAAAAANG!!

His knees buckled.

The ground cratered beneath him.

From the booth, Fate practically screamed into the mic:

"ZENITH ISN'T EVEN WARMED UP YET!! RHYS IS GETTING HIT WITH MOVES THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST!!"

Dreamer added dryly,

"Textbook assassination speed. Rhys is lucky to be alive."

"STOP COMMENTATING MY NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES!" Rhys yelled while being thrown backward again.

He rolled, skidding across the floor, and barely stopped himself from hitting the barrier a second time.

Zenith walked toward him—

Calm.

Cold.

Relentless.

Every step cracked the stone.

Rhys scrambled up, panting.

"Okay, think—think—THINK—!"

His blade pulsed.

The Ruinous Darkness Blade vibrated like a heartbeat.

More.

Push more.

Give more.

Rhys yelled at it,

"STOP SEDUCING ME INTO POWER, YOU EDGY METAL DEMON!"

Zenith closed the distance.

A blur of steel.

Rhys swung—

Their blades met—

And the shockwave burst outward!

CRRRRRAAAAACK!

The tiles split, dust exploding upward.

The crowd roared in panic and awe.

Puddle flapped wildly in the stands.

"MASTER!! PLEASE DON'T GET CUT IN HALF! I LIKE MASTER IN ONE PIECE!!"

Zenith pressed his sword down, overpowering him slowly.

"You're improving," he said calmly.

"I'M TRYING NOT TO DIE!" Rhys shrieked.

Zenith's eyes sharpened with interest.

"Good."

He pushed—

The force sent Rhys sliding backward like someone shoving a toy car.

Rhys dug his heels in, sparks flying under his boots, but he was still dragged.

"OH COME ON—STOP BEING SO CASUAL ABOUT THIS!"

Zenith twisted his wrist.

Rhys felt it before it happened.

A killing strike.

Dark, clean, precise.

He barely ducked—

the blade tore through the air where his head had been.

The slash cut through the arena floor, carving a deep arc into the stone.

The audience screamed.

Fate exploded with excitement,

"ZENITH'S FORM! THE PRECISION! THE RAW FORCE! THIS IS A MASTERCLASS!"

Dreamer:

"Rhys is… still dodging. Impressive."

Rhys wasn't impressed.

He was running.

Sprint, dodge, duck, stumble—

Zenith's blade chased him like a falling guillotine.

Rhys jumped—

Zenith appeared above him.

"WH—HOW—STOP DOING THAT—!"

A downward slash, filled with crushing dark mana.

Rhys crossed his sword instinctively—

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

The impact sent Rhys flying DOWN like a meteor.

He slammed into the ground, a crater exploding under him.

The dust cloud rose like a mushroom.

Puddle screamed.

"MASTER!! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO STOP BREATHING!!!"

Rhys coughed.

And groaned.

And somehow stood up again.

Zenith landed gracefully a few steps away, like he hadn't just committed several felonies with a sword.

"You endure well," Zenith said.

"NO—I JUST REFUSE TO DIE OUT OF SPITE!!" Rhys shouted back.

Zenith stepped forward—

A shadow flickered.

The air bent.

Pressure crashed outward like a shockwave.

Rhys felt it in his bones.

His sword thrummed violently.

More.

Let go.

Unleash.

Rhys yelled back at it,

"NO! BAD SWORD! WE DO NOT GO DEMON MODE WITHOUT PERMISSION!"

Zenith raised his blade again.

Darkness spiraled around it, forming a faint arc of energy.

A technique.

A big one.

Rhys's instincts screamed.

Even the crowd seemed to sense it—

the arena fell silent.

Only Zenith's boots echoed.

Rhys lowered his stance, gripping his sword tight.

"Okay… okay… come on then…"

Puddle whispered from the stands, voice trembling,

"Master… please dodge with your whole soul…"

Zenith spoke softly, almost respectfully.

"Prepare yourself, Rhys."

The darkness swirled—

thick, cold, violent.

Zenith swung—

And the world split open.

A crescent of pure annihilation roared toward Rhys—

Black and crushing—

fast as lightning—

wide as the arena.

Rhys's eyes went wide.

"OH COME ON—THAT'S A SUPERMOVE!!"

He braced his sword.

The Ruinous Darkness Blade howled in his grip—

And Rhys met the attack head-on.

Light and shadow exploded.

The arena vanished in white.

Then—

KAAAAAAAAAA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!

Shockwaves tore across the barrier like thunder.

The stands shook.

Students screamed.

The entire field drowned in swirling dust and dark energy.

Puddle cried out,

"MASTER!!"

As the explosion faded…

Two figures stood through the smoke.

Zenith.

Calm, walking forward.

Rhys—

Kneeling.

Exhausted.

Barely holding on—

But alive.

His sword glowed faint red, trembling.

Zenith stopped a few steps away.

"…Good," Zenith murmured. "You can withstand it."

Rhys wheezed,

"I don't want to withstaaaaaand anything—!"

Rhys staggered upright—barely.

His legs shook. His hands trembled. His lungs burned like he'd inhaled the sun.

But he stood.

Zenith paused, watching him with that unreadable, calm intensity—like a general evaluating a soldier on the edge of collapse.

From the booth, Fate screamed into the mic:

"HE'S STILL UP!! RHYS IS STILL ALIIIIVE!! HOW?! WHY?! WHAT CONTRACT DID HE SIGN?!"

Dreamer added,

"Medically, statistically, and spiritually, he should not be standing."

Rhys croaked back,

"STOP SAYING THAAAT!"

The dust drifted away, revealing the savage trench Zenith's attack had left across the arena floor.

One clean slice.

Like a canyon carved by a god.

Rhys stared at it and sobbed internally.

"YOU—YOU CARVED THE FLOOR LIKE BUTTER! WHO DOES THAT?! WHY DOES ANYONE DO THAT?!"

Zenith didn't answer.

He stepped forward.

Just one step.

And that step alone made Rhys's heart skip.

Pressure crashed over the arena like a rising tide—dark, cold, suffocating.

Puddle's wings drooped as she clung to the rail.

"Master… Zenith turning serious now… This… this not good…"

"WHAT WAS HE BEFORE?!" Rhys screamed. "CASUALLY MURDEROUS?!"

Zenith raised his blade again.

Darkness spiraled around it—denser, sharper, flowing like liquid shadow.

"Rhys," Zenith said quietly, "show me your truth."

"My WHAT?!" Rhys shrieked. "I HAVE NO TRUTH! I ONLY HAVE SURVIVAL INSTINCT!"

Zenith blurred—

No warning.

No signal.

Just instant death approaching at Mach 20.

Rhys's instincts screamed.

He threw his blade up—

CLAAAAAAAAANG!!!

The shockwave blasted a circle of cracked stone around them.

Zenith was right in front of him—

eyes glowing faintly.

Rhys strained.

His knees buckled.

His arms shook wildly.

Zenith pushed down.

"You're holding yourself back."

"I AM HOLDING MYSELF TOGETHER!" Rhys screeched.

Zenith's voice grew deeper.

Quieter.

Deadly.

"Let it out."

The Ruinous Darkness Blade pulsed violently.

More.

Break the chain.

Let me through.

Rhys yelled at it, panicked,

"NO! YOU SHUT UP! I AM NOT UNLEASHING A DEMON WHILE I'M FACING A BIGGER DEMON!"

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