The roar of the crowd still echoed like a distant memory as Clara crossed the threshold connecting the arena to the locker rooms. She walked in silence, her breath unsteady, her body trembling beneath her battle uniform.

  Her steps carried her automatically to the Amagiri dressing room. The moment she stepped inside, her siblings stood up.

  —"Clara…" Akane murmured with concern.

  Clara didn’t reply. She simply collapsed onto a bench, as if the weight of everything she had suppressed finally came crashing down.

  Fei Long and Seiji rushed to her side, each taking an arm—as if they sensed what was coming.

  Then, without warning—

  The purple chains she had summoned earlier to unleash the Star Beast’s power returned.

  But this time, they weren't a release.

  They were punishment.

  They materialized with force, binding her torso, legs, and wrists. In the middle of it all, the lock reappeared—glowing with violent intensity.

  A scream tore from Clara’s lips.

  It wasn’t a battle cry.

  It wasn’t theatrical.

  It was raw.

  Pure agony.

  Her muscles seized. Her eyes rolled back. Her body arched violently as the chains throbbed with savage mana, trying to force her power back under control.

  —"CLARA!" Akane cried out.

  No answer came.

  A second later, Clara’s body went limp—collapsing like a puppet between Fei Long and Seiji.

  Without hesitation, Seiji turned to the door.

  —"Get the medics. Now!"

  The staff, already standing by after the match, rushed in without question. They carried Clara away swiftly, their expressions grim and focused.

  A heavy silence filled the locker room.

  Then Satsuki stepped forward. Until now, she had been quietly watching from the corner. Her face was serious—unusually so.

  —"You saw it, didn’t you?" she asked, voice calm and steady.

  Seiji nodded, eyes fixed on the hallway.

  —"Yeah…" he murmured.

  "Her arm was frozen… her legs pierced. Every cut had intent. If it hadn’t been Clara… that match would’ve ended in seconds."

  Satsuki looked away and let out a slow breath, then smiled.

  —"And to think… she’s the weakest of the three."

  Seiji’s jaw clenched. His brow furrowed.

  But then he exhaled and kept his composure.

  Satsuki, however, couldn’t hide her grin.

  It wasn’t mockery.

  It wasn’t arrogance.

  It was excitement.

  Raw anticipation.

  Her soul was already trembling with thrill.

  Just then, the arena’s speaker system announced:

  —"The second match will begin shortly. Final preparations underway…"

  Intermission was over.

  And the best—or the worst—was about to begin.

  In the Kurogane locker room, Ishiki tightened the final straps on his armor. Every movement was precise. Ritualistic.

  When he finished, he turned toward the door.

  —"I’ll be back in a bit."

  A voice stopped him just before he stepped out.

  —"Wait."

  Homura’s tone was calm, but commanding. Ishiki halted immediately. He didn’t need to turn around—he already knew she was serious.

  —"Charlotte proved herself in the last match…

  But she also stained our clan’s pride."

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Ishiki exhaled slowly. His expression darkened—until she added:

  —"I don’t care about that."

  He blinked.

  —"I just want one thing from you."

  From the tips, her charcoal-black hair began to turn red, as if flames had begun rising through her veins.

  —"Destroy him."

  It wasn’t a suggestion.

  It was a command.

  Ishiki smiled—not with arrogance, but with clarity. With conviction.

  —"Of course."

  ? Amagiri Locker Room

  Akane clung to Seiji’s arm. Her eyes brimmed with worry.

  —"Seiji-nii… are you really okay?"

  Seiji didn’t answer with words. He simply nodded and gave her a small, gentle smile.

  Satsuki watched from a corner. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She knew that look.

  Behind Seiji’s calm smile…

  was a storm.

  Seiji gently pulled away, put on his combat coat, and walked out.

  ?? Announcer (thunderous voice):

  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE'RE BACK!"

  "The first match took our breath away—

  A rising star clashing with a relentless veteran!

  But now…"

  "THIS.

  IS.

  THE MATCH OF THE YEAR!!"

  "Two warriors.

  Two legends in the making.

  Precision versus fury.

  The Samurai… versus the Genius!!"

  The arena torches roared to life. The crowd screamed.

  Some cheered.

  Others… cursed.

  Because Ishiki Kurogane had taken their goddess.

  ?? Announcer:

  —"From the cradle of enchanted steel and honor!

  The blade that slices through darkness!

  He dances with fire and judgment!"

  —"Presenting…

  The Ember Samurai—

  ISHIKI KUROGANEEEEEE!!"

  The arena erupted.

  Ishiki entered with unshakable calm. His gear balanced tradition and function: reinforced gauntlets, a light-scale cuirass, and a black silk haori that flowed behind him.

  In the VIP section, Yuna screamed her soul out.

  She wore head-to-toe Ishiki merch, fans with his name, a plushie of his face, and an unrelenting shriek:

  —"ISHIKIIIIIIIIIII!!!"

  He didn’t even look.

  He simply reached to his waist, where something invisible pulsed with power.

  ?? Announcer:

  —"And now, from the Empire of Lightning and Logic!

  Precision incarnate!

  Calculation given form!"

  —"The Lightning Prodigy—

  SEIJI AMAGIRIIIIII!!"

  Seiji strode in like a man who already knew the outcome.

  Blue lightning sparked around him. His suit glowed—white fabric traced with live circuits of power. Every step sent jolts into the ground.

  He took his position. He didn't blink.

  ?? Announcer:

  "Both warriors are ready!

  LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!"

  ?? The bell rang.

  Silence.

  They stood.

  Still.

  Reading each other.

  Then, Ishiki moved.

  —"Slice the sky with your burning blade…

  Leave embers in judgment’s wake…"

  A black scabbard appeared at his waist. From it, he drew a coal-black katana—its edge glowing with drifting embers.

  —"This is Akatsuki no Tōka.

  These flames aren’t for show."

  Seiji activated his device.

  A yellow rapier crackled into existence.

  No words.

  Just focus.

  Then—he vanished.

  A flicker. A strike. A shadow.

  He appeared before Ishiki, aiming for the heart.

  —"Got you."

  But he missed.

  Ishiki had already moved.

  He didn’t react—he anticipated.

  With a precise twist, Ishiki evaded the strike and countered in one fluid motion.

  —"Custom Kurogane technique…

  Aka no Seisai."

  His blade screamed through the air.

  A fiery arc roared across the arena.

  Seiji barely dodged—

  But not completely.

  His cheek and shoulder were scorched.

  The crowd gasped.

  —"You dodged it. Impressive," Ishiki said calmly.

  Then—he shifted again.

  Lower stance.

  Tighter grip.

  Eyes like steel.

  The arena was silent.

  Seiji had never missed.

  Never been wounded.

  And now…

  He bled.

  Then—

  —"Shingan no Ketsuryū."

  "The Crimson Stream of the True Eye."

  The arena quaked.

  Flames flickered to life around Ishiki, not surrounding him… following him. His mana had become sentient. Predatory.

  But worse than the power…

  Was his gaze.

  Ishiki could hear Seiji’s heartbeat.

  Track his breath.

  Predict his next spell.

  He wasn’t just a warrior.

  He was a hunter.

  Seiji recovered quickly.

  —"You caught me off guard.

  It won’t happen again."

  He struck.

  A flurry of rapier thrusts—sharp as lightning.

  Ishiki deflected each one with near-perfect form. Until—Seiji found his opening.

  A feint.

  A sidestep.

  He struck.

  —"Laugh now, Raikō!"

  Lightning chains erupted from the ground—

  binding Ishiki.

  Two direct thrusts pierced Ishiki’s arm and thigh.

  He grimaced. Pain flared.

  But Ishiki didn’t fall alone.

  He countered. A flash of steel—

  A burn across Seiji’s leg.

  Both men stepped back.

  Injured.

  Drained.

  Thirty minutes had passed.

  One thought echoed in both minds:

  “I have to end this. Now.”

  They rose.

  Weapons raised.

  Breath held.

  —"Amagiri fencing technique…" Seiji began.

  —"Kurogane sword style…" Ishiki echoed.

  And then—they clashed.

  —"Murder Hornets!"

  A blitz of thrusts.

  But Ishiki held firm—

  Parried.

  Dodged.

  Advanced.

  Until—

  He sheathed his blade.

  —"Kazan no Iai!"

  A draw-cut of blazing fire—

  But before it landed—

  Homura appeared.

  She stopped his blade with her mana-covered hand.

  At her side, Satsuki stepped in front of Seiji.

  —"Seiji forfeits."

  The crowd erupted.

  Ishiki blinked.

  —"Sister…?"

  —"He’s unconscious," Homura replied.

  —"But he just—"

  —"He was. But his body gave out before his will."

  Only then did Ishiki notice Seiji’s charred leg.

  Burned. Blackened.

  He lowered his sword.

  Homura took his arm.

  —"Let’s go."

  —"Yeah. This place… isn’t for either of us anymore."

  They left the arena.

  ?? Infirmary

  Aunt Matsu stood ready.

  —"Quick! Get them onto beds. Nurses, now!"

  But before they could…

  It happened.

  First—Seiji.

  Purple chains re-emerged, binding him.

  A glowing red seal flared across his body.

  Then—Ishiki.

  His knees buckled. His skin cracked like scorched earth. Live embers surged across his flesh.

  Both screamed.

  Homura and Satsuki held them down.

  But the pain…

  was too much.

  The price of the Star Beast

  and the True Eye

  had come due.

  Charlotte, Akane, Fei Long, Clara—

  They could only watch.

  Powerless.

  Eventually, the screams stopped.

  And the two warriors collapsed.

  Unconscious.