The draws continued, names were pulled and announced, while the arena never fell silent, echoing with the clash of swords and the cries of the fallen ones. Blood stained the ground and stone statues, and the crowd split between cheers, laughter, and tense silence.
Mabushi sat on one of the stone chairs, his arm was resting on his knee, running the chain attached to his sword between his fingers as if he's playing with a cheap toy.
Suddenly, he exhaled sharply and growled:
"Damn it… how much longer am I supposed to wait?"
He turned his head towards Ann, who's sitting beside him, and said mockingly:
"If my turn doesn't come soon, I'll walk into the middle of the arena and kill whoever's standing there, drawn or not."
Ann placed her hand on her head and closed her eyes.
"Calm down, idiot. Your turn will come soon… just don't destroy the arena before your show starts."
He chuckled softly but he couldn't hide his impatience. His eyes were locked on the director who was pulling paper after paper, like a starving wolf waiting for prey.
After a long string of battles that exhausted the spectators, the director reached into the box again, his fingers rummaging through the papers until one was caught. He opened it slowly, and his deep voice echoed through the arena:
"The next contestant… Mabushi the Rogue!"
Whispers rose instantly among the crowd. Some exchanged uneasy glances, while others smiled with curiosity.
Mabushi remained still for a few seconds before a low laugh escaped from his lips:
"Heh…"
Then he stood, his fingers laced before his chest, walking forward with confident arrogant steps, the kind that belonged to someone who knew all eyes were on him. He passed through the crowd as if the arena itself had been made for him, his provoking smile never left his face.
The director drew another paper from the box, opened it, and announced in a steady tone:
"Silvara, the girl of Nature."
All eyes turned towards the side rows, where a girl with short gleaming blond hair stepped forward, the locks brushing her shoulders. Her eyes were the strangest part… green, yet swirling with eerie spiral patterns, the kind that could pull you in until you drowned if you stared too long.
Her clothes were unlike the other fighters: a dark green shirt embroidered with leaf patterns, an uneven skirt swaying with her movements, a wide leather belt strapped around her waist, and a light green cloak lined with golden threads shaped like tree leaves. She walked calmly, her serene smile unwavering, until she stood before Mabushi the Rogue.
Mabushi lowered his arms from their crossed position, relaxing his fists as if he's accepting the inevitable. His fingers slid smoothly to the hilts of the twin swords hanging at his sides.
The director raised his arm and shouted:
"Let the round begin!"
But before Mabushi could take his first step, Silvara advanced with measured grace, her green dress flowing softly as she moved, her smile still unbroken. She lifted her hand slightly, as if she's asking him to wait, and spoke in a calm voice tinged with something strange:
"Before you swing your blades… tell me, Mabushi the Rogue… do you know why trees plant their roots deep, while everything above the ground fades away?"
Murmurs rippled through the audience. Many exchanged confused looks. Her words didn't sound like a start of a fight, they sounded like a riddle.
Mabushi's eyebrows rose, a crooked smile formed on his face. He hadn't drawn his blades yet, but a mocking laugh broke from his chest as he shook his head.
"Roots? Branches? What do you think you are… a forest nun?"
Some in the crowd laughed, while Mabushi tilted his sword forward and added with a smirk:
"I don't get this philosophical nonsense… but don't worry. I'll make sure you get a good feel of the earth's hell. Maybe you'll find your roots there."
He laughed again, his fingers tightening around his sword hilt, ready to strike.
Silvara didn't answer his mockery. Her smile stayed, untouched, almost ethereal. She raised her hands slowly, her fingers tracing unseen threads in the air.
At first, nothing happened. Then the ground beneath them began to tremble softly. Roots burst from the rocky floor, twisting upward like hungry serpents in search of prey.
Mabushi's grin widened, his eyes flashed with surprise.
"Heh… so I wasn't facing an ordinary girl after all. A Vakin user, huh?"
One of the roots lunged toward his leg. Mabushi loosened his stance and leaped to the side, letting it crash into the ground and shatter stone. He whistled midair, his hand sliding to his sword hilt with deliberate slowness.
"This had just got interesting."
More predatory plants erupted from the earth, their twisted branches and sharp thorns lunging at him like mouths ready to devour. But Mabushi's movements stayed light. Sometimes he slashed a root with a swift cut, other times he let it pass, leaping above it to land on the next.
He chuckled under his breath as he moved through the tangle:
"Heh… it's like jump rope. Except one mistake, and you're in pieces."
Every movement of him was a mix of mockery and precision. He slashed, spun, ducked, and rose again, treating the arena of death like nothing more than a playground.
As Mabushi leapt and twisted through the forest of writhing roots, his acrobatic movements were sharp and reckless, he lost focus for half a second. A thick trunk shot from beneath the ground, coiling around his leg like a serpent. He flinched for only a moment before slicing the root apart in one swift motion, its remains scattering across the dirt.
Mabushi landed steadily, while grinning.
"Did you really think that was enough to catch me?"
But the grin didn't last. From the same spot he'd cut, dozens of new roots sprouted, it was thinner and longer, twisting towards him like starving snakes.
He growled, planting his feet firmly, tightening both hands on his twin swords. In a sudden blur of motion, he spun like a cyclone, his blades crossing like twin streaks of steel, slashing through the oncoming roots. Mabushi leapt onto a rising trunk, then dove downward with a double slash that tore through the ground itself before he straightened again.
He laughed loudly, while shouting:
"Yes! More of them! That's better!"
But the assault didn't stop. New heads burst from the severed roots, it was faster and sharper. Mabushi flicked his right hand, releasing a metal chain from one of his swords. It shot forward, wrapping tightly around a thick root midair. He yanked it towards him like a hunter reeling in prey, then sliced it cleanly with his other blade.
Silvara, meanwhile, remained motionless. Her hands rose slowly again, as if she were controlling invisible threads. While Mabushi spun among the tangled roots, something strange caught his eye… a tiny flowers blooming between the rocks. Their petals shimmered in shades of violet and green, releasing faint, misty dust that drifted through the air.
He tried to ignore it, but a sudden dizziness hit him. His steps grew unsteady.
"What the… the air's heavier?" he muttered.
Before he could recover, sharp thorns shot up from the grass like spears, stabbing into the ground around him, forcing him backward. Just as he stumbled to dodge them, something sticky clung to his back.
A translucent spiderweb was almost invisible, it was woven by the plants behind him, waiting patiently. Mabushi crashed into it, his arms sticking fast to the adhesive strands as though it's trapped in an animal's snare.
Silvara finally stepped forward, stopping before the suspended rogue, who struggled to move his shoulders in vain.
"I admire your reflexes, Mabushi the Rogue,"
she said softly.
"but reflexes doesn't make victory. They're just what beasts do when they're kicked."
She paused, tilting her head slightly as if she's studying his breath.
"You know, you're like a wild trees… thinking you're free because you grow as you please. But no matter how far you stretch, you're still bound by your roots. You'll never escape the soil beneath you."
Mabushi's furious roar tore through the arena. He glared at his bound hands. His swords were still clenched in his grip, but it was useless, as if his fingers had been cast in concrete. He struggled, pulling hard, shaking the spider web violently.
Pain started as a tingling burn, then turned into something worse, like his muscles were being unraveled thread by thread. But he didn't stop. He growled like a wounded beast, pulling harder, a voice inside him was screaming:
'Move… Move… Move!'
His teeth ground together. His veins bulged along his neck. He shouted hoarsely, forcing the pain down instead of yielding to it:
"Shut up! What is this, a poetry recital?!"
He spat onto the ground, snarling with blood in his voice:
"Go to hell with your philosophy… I swear I'll crush that pretty face of yours into the dirt and bury it there forever!"
Then he pulled again, harder, blood was dripping from his palms, seeping down the hilts of his swords. His eyes no longer held their usual mockery, only raw fire. The fire of someone who didn't know how to surrender, even while being torn apart.
From the arena's edge, Ann couldn't stay silent longer. Her eyes followed the roots and spider web, but her heart was set on Mabushi.
She clenched her teeth, whispering inwardly:
"You idiot… do you really think you're invincible?!"
When she saw the blood streaming down his arms, she couldn't contain herself.
She screamed while stepping forward:
"Stop, you fool! You'll kill yourself like this!"
But Mabushi didn't turn. Every muscle in his body was taut, his breath ragged, his hands drenched in blood as he fought to wrench his swords free. Even then, between gasps, he managed to snap back:
"Shut up! Let me focus, damn it!"
His words struck like a slap, but Ann didn't get back. She watched him like a fragile shard of glass that's about to shatter. Mabushi didn't know how to stop. He didn't have a retreat button. He kept pulling harder and harder, until the spider web itself began to screech and tear.
His body burned from inside. The sticky threads tightened, reacting to his resistance, clinging to his flesh as if it's alive. But Mabushi didn't care. Didn't think. He just kept pulling violently, until blood spurted from his wrists.
From afar, Akio stared in horror, his face got pale while thinking:
'Impossible… he's killing himself with his own hands!'
His lips trembled as he whispered:
"Is he insane?"
But the madman kept going. Mabushi's chest compressed sharply; something cracked deep inside. He gasped, coughed, and his blood splattered the ground. He looked up at the sky, the blood was dripping from his mouth, he roared with every shred of strength left:
"I'll break free… even if all that's left are my bones!"