The courtyard of the Liones estate was silent.
White stone stretched beneath an open sky, ancient sigils carved into the ground—an arena long unused, yet never forgotten.
Gillian Liones stood across from John.
"So," Gillian said slowly, eyes sharp, voice steady,
"you're the John Merciless I've been hearing about."
Inside his mind, unease stirred.
Earlier… something felt wrong. I couldn't place it.
"You don't get to tell me how I should treat my daughter."
John laughed—softly.
Not mocking.
Amused.
The black suit rippled.
The white mask cracked like porcelain.
Both dissolved into light.
What stood there was no disguise, no concealment—only John, unfiltered.
His presence wasn't heavy.
It was absolute.
"I know your intentions," John said calmly.
"So you don't need to act cold toward her."
Gillian's eyes narrowed.
"I also know what made you this way," John continued.
"But I won't bring up the past."
For a heartbeat, something flickered in Gillian's expression.
Then the suit and mask re-formed around John, sealing him once more.
"Furthermore," John added, voice hardening just a fraction,
"I don't tolerate being called unworthy by people who don't know me."
He turned slightly.
"Let's take this outside."
They moved together.
John.
Tessandra.
Isis.
Gillian.
And the Ten Guardians.
The courtyard's sigils glowed faintly under their feet.
Gillian raised a hand.
"Before you face the strongest," he said,
"deal with the minions first."
John didn't move.
Instead, he asked calmly:
"Do you want a fair fight…
or do you want me to fight seriously?"
Gillian tried to probe him.
Aura.
Circuit.
Intent.
Nothing.
No energy.
No resistance.
Just… absence.
"…Fight seriously," Gillian said after a pause.
He wasn't rash.
He wasn't reckless.
He didn't trust this.
But he needed to see.
John exhaled.
"Zero-Sum."
The air collapsed inward.
The Guardians froze.
Their circuits—once blazing—fell to zero.
They tried to summon power.
Nothing answered.
John took a single step forward.
"Koketsu — Stage Two."
Death washed over them.
Not real—
but convincing enough.
Visions of their own ends flooded their minds.
Their bodies locked.
Paralyzed.
Gillian's eyes widened—then slowly curved into a smile.
"…My fault," he said, stepping forward.
"I underestimated you."
The Guardians fell to one knee.
"You are worthy," Gillian admitted.
"But I need more than that."
He rolled his shoulders, stance shifting—pure, refined, ancient.
"You won't get my approval until you defeat me at what I do best."
"…Martial arts."
"Dad—!" Tessandra stepped forward.
Isis placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Tess," her mother said gently,
"don't you remember what happened to Kane?"
Tessandra froze.
"And eight years ago," Isis continued softly.
"Your father blamed himself for that too."
She looked at Gillian.
"He isn't angry," Isis said.
"He's afraid of losing you."
Gillian didn't deny it.
"He wants to test him himself," Isis finished.
"Not through hearsay—but resolve."
John nodded once.
"Alright, Gillian."
He met the man's eyes directly.
"I'll accept your spar."
Then—
"But make no mistake. I don't want this happening again."
His voice sharpened.
"Go all out."
Not just your martial arts."
A pause.
"I mean your circuits."
The courtyard held its breath.
ELSEWHERE — HOSHIGAWA
The doors slid open.
Kaelen.
Alzwalt.
Kael.
They arrived at the same moment.
"Welcome," Rei said with a smile, holding the door.
"Please come in."
Warm light filled the restaurant.
And there—by the window—sat Arata, calmly sipping tea.
Alzwalt walked over without hesitation and sat beside him.
"I thought you'd stay in Astria," Arata said casually.
"With Britanya."
Alzwalt smirked.
"What can I say? I had to bring my disciple."
Arata glanced at Kael.
"…Good build," he said.
"Martial arts will suit you. Your strength demands it."
Alzwalt sighed.
"Knew you'd say that."
Arata then turned—slowly—to Kaelen.
"So," he said, smiling,
"Hero. How was the lich?"
Kaelen stiffened.
"I thought you'd go dungeon-hunting," Arata continued.
"But instead, you came to my restaurant."
"How do you know?" Kaelen asked.
Arata laughed.
Mitsuki arrived, setting food on the table.
Arata stood.
"I'll tell you," he said, lifting a spoon,
"if you can take this from me."
He held it just within reach.
"Use everything," Arata added.
"Time. Gravity. Alyth's heart."
Kaelen moved.
Time slowed.
He reached—
Missed.
He shifted timelines.
Still couldn't touch it.
Gravity crushed inward.
Nothing.
Dragon pressure roared.
Arata just… stood there.
Smiling.
Kaelen tried again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, he dropped his arm.
Arata nodded approvingly.
"Anytime you visit," he said,
"try to take the spoon."
"If you ever succeed," he smiled,
"I'll tell you how—and why—you became a hero."
He turned to leave.
"Oh," Arata added over his shoulder,
"that Time Slash you made?"
"…Pretty neat."
Alzwalt chuckled.
"Eat, Kaelen," he said.
"You won't touch that spoon in your lifetime."
Outside—
A storm was about to begin.