The arena trembled beneath the roar of power.
An enormous army of shadows marched behind Shivam—each figure dark, disciplined, and menacing. Yet the crowd gasped not because of him… but because another Lesmond had appeared.
Two Lesmonds now stood in the arena, and the second one was creating his own army.
The air thickened with disbelief. Lesmond didn't have the power of duplication.
Rankoji's expression darkened. His tone dropped low and heavy:
"Gilbert… you've crossed the line. Don't play tricks on me. That clone—those moves—belong to you. I've known you too long to be fooled."
Gilbert smiled innocently, voice turning sly:
"Oh? Whatever do you mean, my old friend?"
Then, changing his tone to a venomous grin—
"And if I did do it… what can you do about it? Ha ha ha!"
Rankoji's fists clenched; anger rippled through his calm façade.
"Careful," Gilbert taunted. "This is my territory. You strike me here, you'll answer to the higher-ups. You don't want that, do you?"
Rankoji sank into his chair, knuckles whitening. A storm brewed behind his eyes.
Then suddenly—
"Mister Rankoji!? Is that really you?"
A girl's bright voice cut through the tension. She looked young, lively, with soft features and eyes that gleamed with excitement.
"Oh my god, I can't believe it! I'm actually talking to the Rankoji!"
Already irritated, Rankoji sighed.
"Who are you? Don't annoy me—I'm not in the mood."
The girl puffed her cheeks dramatically.
"You used to be carefree and charming! What happened to you? I'm Scarlet, by the way."
Her tone softened. "Sorry if I bothered you."
Rankoji paused. Her words struck. He sighed again, this time with guilt.
"No, I should apologize. My student is in danger. He might die if I don't figure something out."
"Danger? How?" Scarlet asked, leaning closer.
Rankoji pointed toward the arena.
"That second Lesmond isn't real. It's his father's clone—carrying thirty percent of Gilbert's own power. I can't stop it. This is his realm, and the higher-ups still hate me for… the havoc years ago."
He winked slightly. Scarlet huffed.
"Still, that's cheating! Is there nothing you can do to save your student?"
---
In the Arena
Shivam staggered, breath ragged. Every shadow he summoned crumbled under the might of the two Lesmonds. Then, high above him, the two merged their strength—hands glowing, power twisting into a massive, pulsing fist of light.
"Combined Force of Two Generations—LEVEL ONE: ANNIHILATE!!"
The energy roared downward. The sky itself bent.
Shivam stood frozen, crushed beneath the pressure. His body refused to move.
He whispered softly, brokenly:
"Malak… my brother. I'm sorry. I couldn't keep up. I leave everything to you. Please… avenge me. Kill Louisel for destroying my family. I wanted to see you one last time…"
His voice cracked, tears sliding down his neck—yet he smiled at the face of death.
Then—
A sharp, commanding voice thundered through the chaos:
"Do it yourself, idiot. I won't carry your burdens. If you want revenge—live for it!"
The crowd gasped. The colossal energy was stopped—mid-air.
A figure stood between Shivam and annihilation, holding it back effortlessly.
Malak.
He raised his blazing katana, eyes burning.
"You cheating bastards are done for. SUN'S WRATH: HEAT WAVES!"
A wave of molten energy erupted. The ground split, air shimmered with unbearable heat. It was as though the sun itself had descended upon the arena.
---
Moments Earlier
Rankoji snapped his fingers.
"Wait—there is someone who can save him!"
Scarlet leaned in, curious.
"Who?"
Rankoji grinned proudly.
"My strongest student. Brave, charming, and—well, sometimes lazy—but unbeatable. His name is… Malak!"
---
Back to the Arena
Both Lesmonds clashed against Malak's infernal aura. Shivam, half-conscious, was being healed at the edge of the arena.
From the stands, Gilbert shouted furiously:
"Rankoji! This is cheating! You can't swap fighters mid-match!"
Rankoji smirked.
"Oh, I can. And the higher-ups seem fine with it. Besides, Shivam was never my best student."
He leaned closer, whispering:
"The one fighting now—he's the son of Shahzad."
Gilbert's face drained of color. His body trembled, teeth clattering in fear. Just the name sent chills through his soul.
Rankoji's eyes gleamed.
"Seems the name was enough to remind you what true power feels like. Your son's going to burn in the same flames that await you—because Malak is angry."
---
Malak swung his katana again, each arc sending waves of heat rippling through the air. The arena blazed like a forge. Lesmond stumbled back, terrified.
Malak's voice rose—furious, raw, divine:
"YOU DARE HURT MY FRIEND!? YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!? THEN BURN!!
SUN'S WRATH: RAGING FIRE DANCE!!"
His sword ignited into a wild inferno, every movement graceful yet lethal—a dance before death.
The world trembled beneath his wrath.
Then—
A chilling voice sliced through the inferno:
"APOCALYPSE: ICE AGE — FREEZING TO DEATH."
Frost devoured flame. The arena that had been melting seconds ago froze over entirely.
Malak stood encased in ice—his sword still blazing through the frost.
"DON'T INTERFERE!" he roared, struggling.
Then, another voice echoed:
"ETERNAL PRISON: RETURN TO THE ABYSS."
The ice shattered. The fire dimmed. The world steadied.
Rankoji stepped forward, glaring coldly.
"Your habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong hasn't changed, Sonia!"
Sonia's eyes glimmered with frost.
"And you still haven't stopped causing chaos everywhere you go."
They faced each other—the air between them heavy with tension, history, and power.