Ryo's breath came out slow and heavy, controlled—but only just. The distance between him and the Wrestling had disappeared, leaving no space for hesitation and no room for error. His grip tightened around the hilt of his blade, the weight of it no longer unfamiliar. It moved with him now, as if it had finally accepted him. Every movement, every failure, every fall had led to this moment. Every bruise, every missed strike, every second of doubt—everything had brought him here.
The creature shifted.
Not wildly. Not unpredictably. Just enough.
And Ryo saw it.
Not just the movement—but the opening hidden within it. The slight imbalance. The smallest delay. The one moment where its guard wasn't perfect.
A single moment. A single chance.
That was all he needed.
His body leaned forward, already committing before the thought could fully form. The gear responded instantly, the cables tightening with a sharp mechanical pull as force surged through him. This time, it didn't drag him. It didn't throw him off balance.
It carried him.
And Ryo moved.
The creature's strike tore through the air—but missed. Ryo slipped past it, his body turning mid-air with precise control, closer than ever before. He didn't rush. He didn't panic. His eyes locked onto the chest.
The target.
No distance left.
His grip tightened.
Now.
The blade drove forward.
Clean. Direct. Final.
It pierced straight through the Wrestling's chest.
For a moment—
everything stopped.
The creature's body froze, trembling violently. A low, broken sound escaped it as cracks spread from the point of impact, racing across its entire form. Its limbs twitched unnaturally, as if trying to move, trying to fight back—but it couldn't.
Ryo didn't move.
Didn't pull back.
He held the blade steady, his arm firm despite the exhaustion tearing through his body.
Then—
it broke.
Not like flesh. Not like anything alive.
Its body collapsed into dust, scattering into the air, dissolving piece by piece until nothing remained. The form that had tried to kill him moments ago simply… vanished.
Gone.
Ryo pulled his blade free slowly.
Silence followed.
Only the wind remained, passing through the empty space where the creature once stood.
His chest rose and fell heavily. His arms ached. His legs felt like they might give out at any moment. His entire body screamed for rest—but he stayed standing.
Alive.
His gaze lowered to the blade.
Dark blood clung to the edge.
Thick. Unnatural.
It didn't drip. It didn't fade.
Proof.
"…It's done."
The words left him quietly, almost like he didn't believe them himself.
He turned.
And walked.
The gate came into view.
Still open.
Still waiting.
Ryo stepped through.
The difference was immediate.
The silence here was heavier. Not empty—but filled with something unspoken.
Fewer people stood there.
Much fewer.
Some were injured, barely holding themselves upright. Some sat on the ground, heads lowered, weapons still in hand. Others stood in silence, their expressions unreadable.
Not everyone had returned.
Ryo didn't need to ask.
He walked forward, his steps slow but steady. Then he stopped.
Slowly, he raised his blade.
The dark blood still marked its edge.
Clear.
Undeniable.
A figure stepped forward, their gaze resting on the blade for only a moment before giving a small nod.
"You pass."
That was all.
No praise. No relief. Just confirmation.
Ryo lowered the sword.
"Astra Batch assignment," another voice followed.
A brief pause.
"Batch C."
Ryo's eyes shifted slightly.
"Your team is over there."
A hand pointed toward the far side of the hall.
Ryo didn't respond. He simply began walking.
Step by step.
The weight of the trial still clung to him. The silence followed him, heavy and constant.
He reached the section.
A few trainees stood there.
Survivors.
Like him.
He stopped near them. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze lowering slightly as he steadied his breath.
Then—
"…Hello."
It was simple. Quiet. Nothing more than a greeting.
Someone turned.
Another followed.
And then—
one more.
Ryo's eyes lifted.
And froze.
That face—
No…
It couldn't be.
The other boy stared at him the same way. Shock. Disbelief. Like he was seeing something that shouldn't exist.
A breath caught in Ryo's throat.
His grip loosened slightly.
The world around him faded into silence.
Then—
a voice.
Unsteady. Almost breaking.
"…Ryo?"
Ryo's eyes widened.
Everything stopped.
That voice—
He knew it.
He could never forget it.
"…Taro?"
The name slipped out before he could stop it.
Standing in front of him—
alive—
was the one he thought he had lost long ago.
And for a moment—
neither of them moved.
To be continued…