Silence. Blood dripped onto stone. Yenji gripped Hiro's sword arm just below the elbow—the blade buried inches from his heart. Smoke cleared to reveal the standoff.
"Yield now," Hiro whispered, ice in his tone. "I spared your life once."
Yenji bared bloodied teeth. "Forget where my hand is?"
"Ever hear how to ensure a kill?" Hiro's free hand clamped Yenji's wrist. "You twist." His blade rotated within the wound. "I don't need my elbow for that."
Their eyes locked—a heartbeat before Hiro's kick shattered Yenji's nose, hurling him across the arena. He landed motionless, a scrap of Hiro's torn sleeve clutched in his fist.
The crowd erupted in confusion: "Why no stigmata?" "Is he powerless?" "Or was Yenji unworthy?"
Headmaster Valeria rose, voice trembling. "The winner... HIRO!"
He's stronger than I imagined, Richard realized. This isn't just Tom's training—he studied my techniques too.
King Aiden's knuckles were white. "When did the boy begin training?"
