The training grounds of the Pirate School pulsed with raw energy. The packed dirt arena was already scarred from the previous matches, deep gouges and craters marking where power had clashed with power. The observation decks were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with students, their voices a constant roar of cheers, jeers, and bets. The air smelled of sweat, churned earth, and the faint metallic tang of clashing wooden weapons. Sunlight streamed through high stone arches, casting long shadows that made every fighter look larger than life.
Sabrina stood on the raised platform, her silver whistle gleaming as she tapped her ruler against the railing. "Next match! Kojo Ren versus Haru — King's right-hand man!"
The crowd erupted. Haru stepped into the pit, a tall, wiry student with messy brown hair tied back by a bandana. Two long, curved sickles hung at his hips — crop-cutting blades sharpened to a deadly edge for combat. He twirled them once, the metal singing through the air, and grinned at Kojo. "I've heard about your Three-Sword Style. Let's see if it lives up to the hype, swordsman."
Kojo stepped forward, his three blades already drawn. The purple aura of Demon Flow flickered around him, a dark storm waiting to be unleashed. "Come."
The whistle blew.
Haru exploded into motion. He was fast, his sickles spinning in a deadly whirlwind as he closed the distance. The twin blades whistled through the air, one slashing high toward Kojo's throat while the other swept low at his legs. Kojo parried with two swords, the clash ringing out like a blacksmith's hammer. Sparks flew as steel met steel, and Haru twisted, using the momentum to spin into a follow-up strike.
Kojo blocked again, but Haru's style was relentless — the sickles were designed for harvesting, but in his hands they were harvesting lives. He feinted left, then struck right, forcing Kojo to dodge rather than block. The blade grazed Kojo's shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Not bad," Kojo muttered, his eyes narrowing. He countered with a quick slash from his third blade, the one clamped in his teeth. The attack forced Haru back a step, but the right-hand man recovered instantly, spinning both sickles in a defensive arc.
From the sidelines, Ato cheered. "Go, Kojo! Cut him like wheat!"
Manjo clapped her hands, yellow sparks dancing between her fingers. "He's fast! But Kojo's stronger."
The fight intensified. Haru lunged again, his sickles carving wide arcs that forced Kojo to retreat. The wooden deck splintered under the force of the blows. Kojo waited for an opening, then exploded forward with Two-Sword Style: Dragon's Fang. His blades struck in a cross pattern, but Haru twisted his body mid-air, the sickles deflecting the attack with a screech of metal.
The crowd roared. King, watching from the edge, pumped his fist. "That's my right-hand man! Show him what real farming looks like, Haru!"
Kojo didn't give him time to gloat. He drew his third sword fully now, all three blades gleaming. The purple aura flared brighter. "Three-Sword Style: Hollow Dragon Rush!"
He became a silver streak. Haru tried to block, but the speed was too much. Kojo's blades carved through his guard, leaving three deep gashes across the right-hand man's chest. Haru staggered back, blood soaking his tunic, but he refused to fall. He spun his sickles one last time, launching a desperate counter.
Kojo met it head-on. "Oni Gashi."
The strike was clean, powerful, and final. Haru was lifted off his feet, the force sending him crashing into the far wall of the pit. He slid down, unconscious, his sickles clattering to the ground beside him.
The crowd fell silent for a heartbeat, then exploded in cheers. Kojo sheathed his blades, breathing hard but standing tall. He looked toward Ato and gave a small nod.
Ato grinned. "That's my swordsman!"
Sabrina raised her ruler. "Kojo Ren wins. Next match — Martis versus King!"
The pit cleared as the two rivals stepped in. King cracked his knuckles, gravity energy already swirling around his fists and the heavy sword at his side. The blade was massive, its edge humming with psychic force — a weapon that could lift or crush anything it touched. "Finally! Time to show the new kids how we do things here."
Martis drew his sword — the Legendary Cane, a long, elegant blade that looked deceptively simple. He tapped it once on the ground, and the dirt beneath his feet rippled. With a flick of his wrist, a wall of jagged rock erupted from the arena floor, forming a shield in front of him.
King laughed. "Rock? Cute." He raised his hand, and the air warped. The rock wall lifted into the air, then hurled itself back at Martis like a battering ram.
Martis didn't move. He swung the Legendary Cane, and the rock shattered into dust. "Your gravity is strong," he said coldly, "but earth obeys me."
The fight began in earnest. King lifted chunks of the arena floor and flung them like meteors, his sword glowing as he infused gravity into every swing. Martis generated walls of stone to block, then countered with spikes of rock that shot from the ground. The two clashed in a storm of earth and gravity, the pit shaking with every collision.
King raised both hands, the air around him distorting violently. "Gravity Crush!"
The entire section of the pit where Martis stood suddenly became ten times heavier. The ground sank, and Martis's knees buckled under the invisible weight. Students cheered as the pressure increased, the dirt compressing like a vice.
But Martis's eyes glowed with cold focus. He slammed the Legendary Cane into the ground. "Earth Dominion."
The compressed dirt erupted upward in a wave of jagged rock, shattering the gravity field. Spikes of stone shot toward King, forcing the red-haired fighter to leap back. King countered by lifting the broken rock and hurling it back, but Martis reshaped the debris mid-air, turning it into a storm of sharp projectiles that rained down on his rival.
The crowd was on its feet. "Martis is controlling the entire arena!" one student shouted.
King roared with laughter, his gravity power flaring brighter. "Not bad! But let's see how you handle this!" He clapped his hands together, and the air warped violently. Every loose stone and chunk of dirt in the pit lifted into the air, forming a massive orbiting ring around him. With a shout, he hurled the entire storm at Martis, his sword glowing as he added gravity to the barrage.
Martis planted the Legendary Cane in the ground. "Stone Fortress."
A dome of solid rock erupted around him, absorbing the barrage with thunderous impacts. The fortress held for a moment, then cracked under the relentless gravity assault. Martis burst out of the crumbling dome, his blade flashing as he closed the distance.
King met him head-on. The two rivals clashed in the center of the pit — gravity versus earth, raw power versus control. King's sword carried the weight of mountains, swinging with psychic force that could lift or crush anything it touched, while Martis's Legendary Cane carved through stone and air alike. The ground trembled, cracks spider-webbing across the arena as they traded blows that would have felled lesser fighters.
From the sidelines, Ato watched with wide eyes. "Whoa... they both have crazy powers!"
Lemon nodded, his own gravity energy humming faintly around his hands. "King's raw power versus Martis's control. This is going to be close."
Manjo flexed her hands, yellow lightning crackling along her fingers. "They're both strong... but I think Martis is playing smarter."
Kojo crossed his arms, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. "The captain's enjoying the show. Good. He needs to see what real rivals look like."
The battle raged on, the crowd roaring as the two rivals pushed each other to their limits. King lifted an entire section of the pit and slammed it down, but Martis turned the falling rock into a wave of stone that crashed back at him. The Legendary Cane flashed, carving through the wave and forcing King to dodge.
In the end, it was a brutal stalemate — both fighters exhausted, the pit a ruined crater of broken stone and floating debris. Sabrina blew her whistle. "Match over! Both of you, to the infirmary. The rest of you — next pair!"
The crew looked at each other, the weight of the school settling in. This was no ordinary academy. It was a battlefield where legends were forged — or broken.
Ato cracked his knuckles, his eyes glowing with excitement. "Who's next? I'm ready for round two."
The Pirate School had just begun to test them, and the real challenges were only starting.