SAI SHINU
The dust settled, and I could hear the faint rasp of my own breathing. My arms ached, bruises burned, and each heartbeat throbbed painfully in my temples. The last three—the Asuka boy, Tsubasa boy, and Hifumi boy—stood before me, their faces a mixture of fury and disbelief. They had never expected me to survive this long, let alone defeat six of their siblings with mere elemental manipulation.
I clenched my fists, feeling the surge of Yosuke's elemental power coursing through me. My mind was a storm of fire, water, earth, and wind, spinning and interweaving like a deadly dance. Yet I knew something was missing. The Crimson Rift, my edge against annihilation itself, had been idle too long. It called to me like a whisper of inevitability, promising unmaking, and I realized that to end this fight without risking my own exhaustion I would have to use it.
I exhaled sharply, closing my eyes for a moment. The arena seemed to shrink around me, the crowd's cheers fading into a dull murmur as I focused. Darkness and light in perfect balance, like a heartbeat, like the collision of opposites. I opened my eyes and felt the rift awaken inside me. A deep, resonant pulse vibrated through my chest, and my vision sharpened. The elements surged at my command, but now they were twisted, infused with the unmaking power of Crimson Rift.
The Asuka boy lunged, black shadows trailing behind his fists. I sidestepped, feeling the air tear as I slashed with Crimson Rift. His movements slowed, his strikes unraveling midair, his shadow curling into a perfect purple rose as the rift claimed him. A shiver ran down my spine—not fear, but something darker, a cold satisfaction mingled with grief.
The Tsubasa boy attempted to strike with earth spikes, but my Crimson Rift met them midair, the rocks dissolving into fragments of purple petals. His eyes widened in shock, a mixture of disbelief and fear. He swung desperately, water and fire combining around him, but it was futile. Every motion, every effort was stripped away by the rift. In moments, he too was reduced to scattered roses, petals tumbling slowly to the ground.
The Hifumi boy remained, his wind lashing outward, a final attempt to overwhelm me. My arms were heavy now, the adrenaline fading, but I could not allow hesitation. The Crimson Rift flared around him, tearing at his very form, breaking the laws of matter as petals spiraled outward in a violent storm. He crumpled, leaving only the purple remnants behind.
The arena fell silent, the nine opponents now nothing more than petals drifting across the sand. My chest heaved as exhaustion threatened to topple me. I felt the strain of Crimson Rift, the way it gnawed at my darkness core, draining it with each unmaking. Blood Veil had long since expired, no more blood remained nearby to sustain it. I felt the absence like a gaping wound, and a sharp blow from the arena wall reminded me that even now, I was vulnerable.
I staggered back, every movement a painful effort. My vision blurred, and I realized I needed to stabilize before the final stage of this fight—before I could truly recover. A small voice whispered in my mind: Yuri's healing.
I focused, drawing on her power through Gift-Weave. Light flowed into my body, mending torn muscle, sealing cracked bones, soothing the burning abrasions across my skin. The pain receded, replaced by a gentle warmth that spread through me like sunlight breaking through a storm. I exhaled, kneeling for a brief moment to center myself, to feel the life returning to my limbs.
The Crimson Rift had left me drained, but Yuri's healing was a shield now, steadying my body, steadying my mind. I could move again, fight again, if necessary. I raised my head, and the arena came into focus once more. Dust hung in the air, catching the light like fragments of broken stars. My eyes swept over the empty battlefield, noting the petals scattered like a graveyard.
I could feel the weight of what I had done pressing on me. The exhilaration of victory was there, yes—but also a shadow of grief, a recognition of power used and life erased. This was not killing for sport, not for pleasure. This was survival, this was necessity, this was the crucible through which I forged myself.
From the crowd, faint murmurs reached me, whispers of awe, fear, and disbelief. I ignored them, focusing on the center of the arena. My arms were steady now, the elements pulsing in harmony with Crimson Rift's lingering echo. My body ached, but I was alive, stronger than before, tempered by both battle and the act of recovery.
Yuri's healing faded softly as I adjusted my stance. I could feel the residual power of Yosuke's elements, ready to be wielded again if needed. I flexed my fingers, testing fire, water, wind, and earth in subtle pulses. Each obeyed, a testament to the bond I shared through Gift-Weave.
The battle had changed me. I was not invincible, but I was prepared. I understood now the balance of offense and defense, the cost of unmaking, the fragility of even the most powerful shields. The petals drifted past me in slow motion, and I lowered my arms, feeling the adrenaline ebb. My darkness core was nearly empty, but my mind was clear, my intent steady.
This was only the beginning. The arena had taught me lessons that blood and exhaustion could never convey alone. I had survived, I had triumphed, and I had healed. But the road ahead—longer, harsher, and far more dangerous—waited beyond the gates of the colosseum. And I would face it, no matter the cost.