I sat there, bat across my knees, breathing in the recycled air and listening to the distant roar of the crowd.
Just breathing.
The door opened a third ti.
This ti it was all five of them together, moving like a coordinated force of nature.
Natalia led the charge, her purple hair streaming behind her and frost already forming on her fingertips like delicate crystal flowers. Skylar followed with her hood up and her violet eyes burning with predatory focus. Emi bounced in with nervous energy, her healing aura pulsing softly around her hands in waves of green light. Cel walked with perfect posture despite the concern written across her features in careful script. And Akari sauntered in last, her erald eyes dancing with mischief and sothing darker.
They arranged themselves around in a semicircle.
Five terrifying, beautiful disasters who had sohow decided I was worth their ti, their energy, their devotion.
"We need to talk," Natalia said, her voice carrying that edge it got when she was trying very hard not to lose her temper.
"About?"
"Your tendency to do catastrophically stupid things when we’re not watching." Her eyes flashed with purple light. "Your apparent addiction to absorbing damage like so kind of masochist."
Skylar crossed her arms, her hood casting shadows over her face. "Like absorbing enough voltage to power half the city instead of just dodging like a normal person."
"That was tactical," I said.
"That was reckless," Cel corrected, and despite the softness of her voice, there was steel underneath it—the kind of quiet authority that ca from growing up under Seraphina’s tutelage. "And my sister now has questions. Detailed, specific questions about how exactly your Aspect works, why your energy signature doesn’t match any known pyrokinetic variant, and how you’re generating output that shouldn’t be physically possible with your published rank." Her periwinkle eyes fixed on mine, heavy with unspoken worry. "Questions I can’t answer because you won’t give the full truth."
"Tell Seraphina I’ll explain everything," I said. "After I win."
Emi pushed past Natalia with the kind of determination that only ca from a healer who’d watched too many idiots bleed out from preventable wounds. She placed both hands flat against my chest, her touch gentle but firm, her healing aura washing over in waves of warm, soothing energy that made the persistent ache in my ribs fade to a dull background hum. But her eyes—those warm reddish-brown eyes that were usually so full of sunshine—were burning with an intensity that would’ve made lesser n flinch.
"Promise you won’t take unnecessary hits," she said, her voice low and fierce. "Promise you’ll actually dodge instead of just absorbing everything like you’re trying to prove so kind of point to the universe."
"I promise to try."
"Not good enough." Her fingers twisted in my shirt, bunching the fabric tight. "I an it, Satori. I can heal broken bones and torn muscles and even reconstruct organs if I have to, but I can’t fix stupid. And I sure as hell can’t bring back the dead."
The weight of that statent hung in the air for a mont, heavy and real.
Then Akari laughed—that bright, dangerous sound that always ant she was either about to cause trouble or encourage soone else to. "Let him breathe, girls. He’s got that look on his face." She stepped closer, her erald eyes dancing with wicked amusent as she traced a finger along my jaw. "The one that ans he’s already won in his head and just needs to show up to collect the trophy."
Natalia’s eyes narrowed, studying my expression with the focus of a scientist examining a particularly interesting specin. "Is that true?"
I looked up at her. At all of them. Five faces watching with various mixtures of concern, affection, and barely contained violence on my behalf.
"Julian’s been training his whole life for this mont," I said slowly. "Professional coaches since he could walk. S-Rank equipnt that costs more than most people’s houses. His father’s expectations riding on every punch, every victory, every breath he takes." I stood, feeling my ribs shift and settle into their proper places. "But he’s got one problem."
"Which is?" Skylar asked, though her smirk suggested she already knew.
"He fights like soone who’s afraid to lose everything." I picked up my bat, feeling its familiar weight settle into my palm. "I fight like soone who already did."
The room went quiet except for the distant sound of the crowd and the soft hum of the regenerator brace.
Cel spoke first, her voice thoughtful. "That’s almost poetic."
"Don’t tell anyone. Would ruin my reputation as a heartless bastard."
Natalia grabbed my collar and yanked down until our foreheads touched, her breath warm against my face. "Win. Co back to in one piece. Then we’ll celebrate properly."
The temperature around us dropped twenty degrees.
The others felt it too.
Emi blushed scarlet. Skylar’s smirk widened into sothing genuinely predatory. Akari grinned like she’d just won the lottery and was already planning how to spend the money. And Cel looked away, though I caught the pink dusting her cheeks before she could hide it.
"Noted," I said.
Natalia kissed hard enough to make my split lip sting, her mouth demanding and possessive, then shoved toward the door. "Now go. Show that golden prince what happens when street rats get tired of being kicked."
I walked toward the tunnel entrance.
They followed in formation—not just an escort, but a royal procession. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the concrete walls, creating a rhythm that felt like a war march.
The tunnel to the arena stretched ahead, dark except for the sunlight bleeding in from the entrance like liquid gold. Each step brought the roar of the crowd closer, louder, until it beca a physical force pressing against my eardrums.
I could hear them chanting sothing, but couldn’t quite make out the words.
Nel whispered in my mind, her voice carrying amusent and sothing that might have been pride.
They’re chanting your na.
"Really?"
Really. Twenty thousand voices singing the sa word over and over: ’Stray Dog.’ The Audience is eating this up. You’re the underdog who shouldn’t be here. The Zero who beca a king. The boy who looked at the hierarchy and said fuck you with feeling.
"Poetic."
Nike says you’re her favorite investnt in three hundred years. She’s actually excited, which is apparently quite rare for a goddess who’s seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations.
"Tell Nike I’m flattered."
She also says if you lose, she’s personally coming down here to kick your ass before the System penalties activate. Sothing about protecting her investnt.
"Lovely."
We reached the end of the tunnel.
Sunlight hit my face like a physical force, warm and blinding after the artificial lighting of the prep areas. The crowd’s roar beca deafening, a wall of sound that seed to press against my body from all directions.
"STRAY DOG! STRAY DOG! STRAY DOG!"
Twenty thousand people. Millions more watching from ho. Every guild recruiter on the island. And Seraphina Vance herself, sitting in her private box with her hands folded and her expression unreadable as carved marble.
Maximus Hype’s voice cut through the noise like a blade through silk, amplified by speakers that could probably be heard in orbit.
"Ladies and gentlen! The mont you’ve all been waiting for! Our semifinals feature two matches that will define this generation of Hunters! First up—the golden prince versus the stray dog! Legacy versus uprising! Order versus chaos!"
I stepped onto the platform, feeling the tal grating vibrate under my feet from the crowd’s energy.
Julian was already there, his golden armor gleaming like he’d bathed in liquid sunshine. Every piece of his equipnt scread money and heritage—custom-forged plates that moved like water, energy conduits that pulsed with contained power, a helt designed by artists who understood both function and beauty. Aaron stood beside him, looking uncomfortable in a way that suggested he’d rather be literally anywhere else, possibly including the bottom of the ocean.
I raised my bat—scarred, dented, wrapped in grip tape that had seen better decades.
Julian raised his fists, purple energy crackling around his knuckles like contained lightning.
The crowd went absolutely feral.
Natalia’s voice ca through the comm in my ear, clear despite the chaos. "Rember what I said. You co back to ."
"Always," I murmured, the word lost in the noise but sohow carrying all the weight in the world.
Professor Hanae walked to the center platform, her presence imdiately commanding silence despite her small stature. She wore her usual serene expression, like nothing in the world could disturb her peace—not twenty thousand screaming fans, not the tension crackling between the fighters, not even the knowledge that she was about to oversee what might be the most important fight of the year.
"Standard tag rules," she announced, her voice carrying clearly through the arena’s acoustics. "Non-lethal force only. Match ends when both mbers of one team are unconscious or yield surrender." Her eyes swept across all four of us with the weight of absolute authority. "No Aspect attacks directed at the head. No killing blows. And try not to destroy my arena. The repairs co out of my personal budget, and I have expensive tastes."
Julian didn’t even look at .
He was staring at Natalia in the stands.
At Cel beside her.
At all five of my girls watching with various expressions of concern and barely restrained bloodlust.
His jaw worked like he was chewing glass, muscles jumping under his perfect skin.
Good.
Stay mad, golden boy. Let it eat at you.
Professor Hanae raised her hand, and the entire arena seed to hold its breath.
"Begin!"
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