From her seat in the mid-tier stands, Ichigo gripped her katana until her knuckles turned white.
She pictured in her mind the moves she would need to make to counter either fighter in a true battle... but they were truly out of her league. She could only rely on pure luck as technique could only get you so far.
The last time she had seen Merun, he was a child—a strange, foolish little boy with a tail and freakish physical strength who had somehow saved their lives from a great boar.
The regular letters from their parents during her own martial journey always carried the same updates:
The boy grows too fast! He will one day become a powerful martial artist!
And they were right.
Now, looking down into the arena of the Steel Convergence, she could barely recognize that silly boy among the well-built martial artists battling in the arena below. He still carried that insufferable, arrogant smirk, but somehow he was going toe-to-toe with one of Kinzoku's Martial Seniors!
Nearing the peak of the Martial Squire realm herself, Ichigo's eyes could still barely track the high-speed blur of their movements. But she saw the genius behind his positioning instantly.
In a single exchange, Merun immediately recognized how much distance is factor that Ephraim needs to generate momentum for his True Strike.
By forcing the distance and keeping himself too close to Ephraim, Merun could suffocate the spearmaster's weapon reach.
Although Ephraim had an answer in the form of smaller, micro-range thrusts that rained down against Merun's torso, they simply bounced off.
Merun was fluid, flexible, and freakishly fast for his massive size.
What's more... he was winning without using his Martial Heart!
How on earth was he doing that?!
This whole fight was ridiculous!
Around her, the mood in the stadium had inverted. The common laborers and low-ranking martial artists were shouting, their voices rising with every heavy hook Merun planted into the veteran's ribs.
Up in the higher noble balconies, the contrast was stark. Wealthy nobles and high-realm martial artists leaned forward in sheer shock, their expressions practically screaming:
Where on earth did this monster come from?
A sudden sense of fierce pride welled up in Ichigo's chest.
She leaned over the rail.
So what if he had changed?
So what if he was strong enough to shake the arena?
That little goofy kid used to be afraid of his own shadow, heck, he was even afraid of the moon!
Her little brother was still her little brother!
She opened her mouth, inhaling deeply to yell,
"YOU CAN DO IT M—"
The words died in her throat as Master Iaiashin abruptly vaulted out of her seat beside her, her face twisting in sudden urgency.
Ichigo's gaze snapped back to the sand.
The world slowed down.
Ephraim's spear point had already bypassed Merun's guard.
The slender purple steel drove clean into the center of Merun's face.
It was over.
———
Ephraim had walked the martial path for decades, committing millions of individual thrusts to muscle memory. Though he looked like a man in his physical prime, he was actually nearly a century old.
With decades of experience, he didn't need eyes to know when a strike was true. He could be blinded, deafened, and broken, and his hands would still recognize the exact physical feedback of his precious Reginleif piercing flesh.
Nobody could survive a high-velocity thrust directly into the eye socket.
There would be consequences for this.
Killing or permanently disabling an opponent in an official tournament wasn't rare, but it still meant the higher-ups would likely deploy him to the bloody front lines non-stop for the next few decades as punishment.
But to Ephraim, looking at the arrogant brat who had dared to humiliate Roro—and even dare to make her blush—it was worth every bit of it.
They had all underestimated the newcomer, which was exactly why Ephraim had quietly swallowed a handful of performance-enhancing potions before stepping onto the arena.
They just dulled pain and increased focus; usually used when a huge war was coming up.
He needed absolute certainty.
He was lucky the newbie was still far too arrogant to use his Martial Heart.
He felt the tip of Reginleif strike the solid glass of the green scouter, shattering it instantly.
Then came the soft, unyielding resistance of an eyeball.
It's over.
BAM.
Everything went instantly white.
Huh?
What happened?
A bizarre, weightless sensation washed over Ephraim.
He felt completely light, floating in a vast, quiet nothingness as though his entire body had been refreshed.
The roar of the stadium vanished.
Slowly, a faint rhythmic sound began to pierce through the void.
At first it was distant and felt like a whisper, but with every passing second it grew louder, dragging him out of the comfortable darkness.
Thud-thud-thud.
Thud-thud-thud.
Ephraim's veteran instincts recognized that sound.
THUD THUD THUD THUD
THUD THUD THUD THUD
It was the sound of a body being absolutely pulverized.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD
His body.
Ephraim's consciousness snapped back into reality with a wave of agonizing pain.
He wasn't floating in nothingness.
He was suspended three feet in the air, held aloft by a relentless hundreds-of-thousands-of-punches combo that refused to let him fall.
He tried to swing his spear in a desperate parry, only to realize his hands were completely empty.
He raised his forearms to cover his face, but the defensive attempt was instantly swatted away by a backhand that nearly fractured his wrists.
The beatdown was mechanical, ceaseless, and terrifyingly heavy.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD
"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Merun wasn't looking at him.
His right eye had been completely pierced, pouring a thick, profuse stream of crimson blood down his face, but his pupils were entirely gone.
His left eye were stark white.
He was completely unconscious, moving entirely on a primal, deep-seated battle instinct that had awakened the moment his brain registered fatal trauma.
The right arm that Ephraim thought he had disabled moments ago was bursting with a terrifying, vein-streaked energy, moving in perfect, rapid synchronization with the left; it had somehow healed!
It was this surprise right uppercut that had caught the Martial Senior off guard and stopped the True Strike from traveling further and actually killing him.
This was Merun's true strike.
The sheer velocity of the fists created a wall of flesh that completely drowned the veteran martial artist.
Every time Ephraim's body began to drop due to gravity, a brutal short-range uppercut launched him right back into the meat grinder.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD
The stadium watched in paralyzed horror.
No one cheered.
No one screamed.
Ten thousand people watched the blood-soaked, white-eyed monster keep a Martial Senior suspended in midair through sheer volume of violence.
The one-sided slaughter lasted for a full agonizing minute until Merun's hips suddenly locked.
His entire upper torso twisted backward, his muscles winding up like a massive spring for a definitive, skull-shattering finishing blow.
Before the fist could launch, a shadow blurred between them.
"MORETSUNA!!! THE WINNER IS MORETSUNA!!" the announcer roared, his own wind domain exploding outward as he physically shoved himself into the gap, throwing his arms up to intercept the trajectory while his Martial Heart ignited, molten gold veins shining.
The finishing blow never came.
The sudden interruption caused Merun's wound-up frame to stall. His pupils finally returned, staring blankly at the announcer for a fraction of a second before his posture relaxed and his arms dropped heavily to his sides.
With the violent barrage of punches finally stopping, Senior Ephraim's limp, broken body crashed face-first into the blood-splattered sand.
Blood leaked heavily through the gaps of Merun's fingers as he clamped his hand over his ruined right eye.
His chest heaved, sucking in ragged, burning lungfuls of air while the arena dust finally began to settle.
A team of medical martial squires scrambled onto the sand.
Most of them converged immediately on the unconscious Senior Ephraim, hurriedly hoisting his broken form onto a stretcher before rushing him toward the deep-realm healing halls.
A single medical squire split from the group, cautiously approaching Merun with a roll of bandages extended.
Before the squire could even speak, Merun drove his left fist straight into the air.
He didn't look at the stands.
He didn't need to.
The simple, unyielding gesture captured every eye in the colosseum.
For a few seconds, the stadium hung in absolute disbelief.
Then the dam broke.
The rumble started in the lowest tiers—the common laborers, the low-ranking martial artists, even wandering outsiders.
It built into a roar that rattled the walls of the Steel Convergence.
"MO-RE-TSU-NA!"
"MO-RE-TSU-NA!"
"MO-RE-TSU-NA!"
The chant caught like wildfire, vibrating through the floorboards.
The crowd cheered with a raw, terrifying fervor for this new, ruthless symbol of the Commoner's Wrath.
Merun kept his fist raised high, soaking in the thunderous noise.
His visible left eye closed, a blissful, genuinely content smile pulling at his lips despite the crimson trailing down his jaw.
He had promised Master Iaiashin a show and he had given them exactly what they wanted to see.
The medical squire stepped in, gently wrapping Merun's left arm around his own shoulders to support his weight.
With a heavy, uneven limp, Merun allowed himself to be guided toward the darkness of the western tunnel.
The crowd's roaring followed him into the dark, the spectators completely unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
Up on the Furutsu bench, the tension broke with a collective, ragged exhale.
Nashi sank back into her seat, her face completely pale as Budo caught her shoulder, reassuring her with a firm nod—though the thick beads of sweat rolling down the old man's neck betrayed his composure.
The sisters gripped one another tightly, their tears turning into sudden, breathless cheers for their ridiculous little brother.
"He actually did it," one muttered, wiping her face. "Our youngest actually won."
Newfound inspiration shone in their eyes.
Despite that violent display, they never saw him any less or even felt the least bit afraid. After all, they know what kind of person Merun is, was or ever will be for he had a heart of gold.
As the excitement began to settle, they looked around the box, only to realize the seat beside them was completely vacant.
"Wait... where did Master go?"
They turned in unison toward Inyen Iaiashin, who was leaning casually against the back wall.
Sensing their gazes, Inyen simply shrugged, raising her palms in a lazy gesture.
"Don't look at me," Inyen muttered. "I don't know either!"
The sisters exchanged a knowing, silent look.
The realization hit them all at once, their eyes drifting toward the internal staircases leading down to the private competitor tunnels.
A collective thought crossed their minds:
Didn't she literally just tell us not to go down there and distract him?