The roar of Magnara shook the bowl.
Steel dust hung in the air between them. Rin's scarf fluttered. Finn Lancaster rolled his shoulder once as if warming up.
He smiled, pretty and sharp.
"Tell you what, Black Clan." His voice carried, trained for crowds. "If you actually fight me seriously—" he flicked Arthur's Bane in a lazy circle "—I'll tell you who ordered that little airship 'accident' of yours."
Rin's grip tightened on Yori Oni.
Airship.
Heat flared beneath his ribs.
Who...?
He felt his guard slip half a grain.
Lancaster's smile widened. "Ah. There it is."
His heel kissed the stone.
Martial Muti — Knight's Charge.
He vanished forward.
Rin saw the first step, not the second. Impact blew air off his front—
—and the cut came from behind.
Steel whispered along his back—clean and mean. His coat split. Skin opened. Heat poured down his side.
Rin staggered a half-step, boots grinding on tile. His teeth clicked; breath hissed through them.
Idiot. You let him in your head.
Airship. Who gave that order—
Lancaster laughed, bright and cruel. He flicked Rin's blood off Arthur's Bane, pink droplets catching the Colos-Lens light.
He turned to the stands and threw his free hand wide.
"Look!" he called, voice all theater. "I cut a Black Clan prodigy. They bleed like anyone else!"
The roar that answered wasn't all hate—but there was a lot of it.
Boos. Cheers. Jeers.
"About time someone tagged one of them—!"
"Cut him again, Britannia!"
"Black eyes think they're untouchable!"
On the Mercy Deck rail, Kai's hands clenched. Jaw tight. Lila's mouth flattened. Aria's eyes iced over.
Up in the skybox, one guildmaster muttered, "Crowd's showing teeth," and someone else didn't disagree.
Rin didn't hear the words, just the weight.
Black Clan.
Airship.
His breath hitched—and something deeper uncoiled.
The world flickered—
(Flashback)
Mama's hands smelled like soap and steel.
Rin was small again, bare feet on cold stone, Seizen's fingers woven through his.
His mother crouched, thumb brushing his cheek. Her smile was tired, proud.
"You and your brother," she said, voice low, steady, "you're going to be great men. You hear me? Not just strong. Great."
Seizen snorted, trying to act older than he was. "We know."
She laughed, soft. "You don't. Not yet."
The laugh died when the screaming started.
The world turned red and black. Smoke in the halls. The smell of burning silk. Boots hammering stone.
"Hide," she hissed.
She shoved them behind a fallen beam with three other children, pressed them down into the dark. Her fingers lingered on their hair for half a heartbeat too long.
"Don't move. No matter what you hear."
The door burst in—splinters of wood, a crash.
Germanian voices. Crisp, cold. Steel scraping free.
Rin peered through the gap before Seizen could stop him.
He saw his mother stand in the doorway. No blade. Just her.
He saw the soldier in the grey-tinted mail laugh. He saw the arc of the saber as it rose. Heard her say, "They're not here," through grit teeth.
The saber fell.
Seizen's hand slapped over Rin's eyes—
—but not before he saw the bloom of red at her throat.
Not before the sound of her body hitting the stone burned itself into his bones.
He heard the other children whimpering. A boot kicked near their hiding place, close enough to puff dust into Rin's mouth. A boy sobbed; steel answered; the sob cut off.
Rin shook.
"We're going to be great men," Seizen whispered in his ear, voice breaking. "So don't make a sound."
The soldier's footsteps went on. Doors opened. Screams. Steel. One by one.
Then nothing.
Just blood cooling and stone soaking.
Rin's eyes opened back in Magnara.
Breath came in once. Slow.
The roar of the crowd faded to a muffled surf.
A thin warm line tracked down his back where Lancaster's cut had kissed him. He let the pain in. Let it sit.
Never again.
Viatra stirred.
Threads of intent and future snapped into sharp relief. The bowl's light dipped a shade; shadows thickened around his boots.
His pupils tightened.
Crimson bled across the iris, veins of red spidering out like cracks in glass.
Viatra — Stage One: 黒瞳 / Kurodō.
He lifted his head.
To the crowd, for a heartbeat, he didn't look like a boy at all—just a narrow black shape with two burning red eyes hanging in it.
Sound died row by row.
Someone in the cheap seats whispered, "Black eyes," and nobody joined in the cheer this time.
On the tunnel rail, Kai's pulse spiked. A grin, half-wild, tugged his mouth. "There it is."
Aria's skin prickled. "Oh, that's... different."
Lila swallowed. "He looks like he crawled out of a nightmare."
Up in the skybox, William's lips curved, pride unhidden. "Finally," he breathed. "Welcome, Rin."
Lancaster's smirk wavered.
For the first time, he felt it—weight rolling off the smaller boy, old hurt sharpened into something surgical. The air around Rin went thin and cold, as if the whole arena were holding its breath for him.
He reset his grip on Arthur's Bane. Palm slick now.
Rin rolled his shoulder once, feeling the blood down his spine. Yori Oni sat loose in his hand, blade angled low, scarf shadowing his mouth.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet—but it carried.
"You wanted me serious."
He stepped forward. The sound of his foot on stone cracked like a lash.
"I hope you're ready."
Viatra threads flared—tiny red lines spiderwebbing the world between him and Lancaster.
"I'm going to beat that name out of you..."
His eyes burned brighter, all that buried boyhood horror focusing into one point.
"...and make you regret cutting me."
The crowd didn't roar.
It just waited.
And the chapter broke on the weight of those red eyes.