The final match.
The entire arena held its breath.
Nobu stood in silence, his fingers resting lightly on the hilt of his katana. His eyes were calm—but his mind was sharp.
He had already figured it out.
The Hiroshima heir… was cheating.
Poison.
A thin, nearly invisible layer coated his blade. It wasn't something ordinary people could detect. But Nobu wasn't "ordinary."
In his previous life…
Baku had trained him.
Not just in combat—but in survival.
"Every poison has a pattern," Baku's voice echoed faintly in his memory.
"Learn it. Adapt to it. Overcome it."
Nobu's eyes darkened slightly.
"…So this is your trick."
Footsteps approached.
The Hiroshima heir stopped in front of him, a faint smirk on his face.
"Best of luck," he said casually.
But his eyes… were cold.
Dangerous.
A hunter who believed victory was already his.
Nobu said nothing.
He simply looked at him.
Unmoved.
Unshaken.
The heir chuckled softly before walking past him.
"FINAL MATCH—BEGIN!"
Both of them stepped into the arena.
The crowd roared.
Excitement.
Tension.
Bloodlust.
Everything filled the air at once.
Both warriors drew their katanas.
The sound of steel echoed sharply.
Nobu moved first.
A direct attack.
Clean.
Fast.
But—
Clang!
The heir blocked it effortlessly.
A counterattack came instantly.
Sharp.
Precise.
Nobu tilted his body slightly and dodged it by inches.
"…He's good," Nobu thought.
But there was a problem.
Nobu wasn't a swordsman.
Not truly.
Even though he carried a katana…
His real strength had always been his body.
His fists.
His instincts.
His adaptability.
The heir attacked again.
Faster this time.
Stronger.
Nobu blocked—but barely.
The force pushed him back.
"You're not used to a sword, are you?" the heir smirked.
Nobu didn't respond.
But he knew.
He couldn't win like this.
"…Then I'll do it your way."
A memory surfaced.
A dark past.
A broken childhood.
Back when he and Beru were nothing more than tools for the mafia.
Survival meant learning fast.
Adapting faster.
And Nobu had one ability that kept him alive.
Copy.
"…Guess I'll use it again."
Nobu's stance changed.
Subtly.
But completely.
His grip tightened.
His posture shifted.
His breathing slowed.
The heir narrowed his eyes.
"…What is this?"
Nobu moved.
Fast.
This time—
Different.
His sword cut through the air with precision.
Controlled.
Elegant.
Deadly.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The pace increased.
The heir blocked each strike—but something felt wrong.
"These movements…"
"…I've never seen them before."
Nobu's eyes sharpened.
Inside his mind—
He wasn't Nobu.
He was Beru.
Every movement.
Every step.
Every strike.
He copied it perfectly.
"You're adapting?" the heir muttered.
Nobu disappeared from his sight for a split second.
"—!!"
Too fast.
Slash.
A shallow cut appeared on the heir's shoulder.
Blood dripped slowly.
The crowd gasped.
The heir stepped back, his expression finally changing.
"…Interesting."
But Nobu didn't stop.
He rushed forward again.
Faster.
Sharper.
Stronger.
The heir swung his blade—
But Nobu didn't block.
He dodged.
Twisted.
And attacked from a blind spot.
Another cut.
Deeper this time.
The heir gritted his teeth.
"…You think this is enough?"
A faint smile appeared on his face.
He tightened his grip.
And once again—
That invisible poison spread along his blade.
But this time—
Nobu was ready.
"Your trick won't work anymore."
The heir lunged forward.
A direct strike aimed at Nobu's chest.
Nobu didn't dodge.
He stepped forward.
Inside the attack.
The crowd froze.
At the last moment—
Nobu tilted his body slightly.
The blade grazed his clothes—but didn't touch his skin.
And then—
He countered.
A deep breath.
A shift in stance.
And suddenly—
A dark aura began to rise from his body.
Black.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
The entire arena fell silent.
"…What is that?" someone whispered.
Even the heir's eyes widened.
"…Impossible."
Nobu's presence changed completely.
It felt like something ancient.
Something dangerous.
Something beyond human.
"…Let's end this."
In one step—
He vanished.
The heir reacted instantly—
But it was too late.
Slash.
A clean, brutal cut.
The heir's arm fell.
Silence.
The blade dropped from his hand.
His body trembled.
"I… surrender…"
The announcer's voice echoed loudly—
"WINNER—NOBU!!"
The crowd exploded.
Malvek jumped from his seat.
"…HE WON!!"
He laughed, shouted, almost cried—all at once.
Nobu stood quietly in the arena.
His expression calm.
But his eyes…
Cold.
"…Now."
He turned toward the Hiroshima Clan.
"Give me my prize."
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
The clan members looked furious.
Shocked.
Humiliated.
But they couldn't refuse.
Too many witnesses.
Too many eyes.
"…Bring him."
Moments later—
A man was brought into the arena.
Old.
Scarred.
But standing straight.
His presence alone—
Was different.
"…Misashi."
Even in chains—
He looked like a warrior.
Unbreakable.
The clan leader forced a smile.
"We are honored to witness such a talented warrior like you."
"As promised… the prize is yours."
The chains were removed.
Misashi looked at Nobu.
Then at Malvek.
Silence.
"…So you're the ones who won me."
Nobu met his gaze.
"…We don't want to own you."
"We want you to stand with us."
Misashi's eyes narrowed slightly.
Then—
A faint smile appeared.
"…Interesting."
From the crowd—
Malvek ran down, unable to contain his excitement.
"We did it!!"
Nobu looked at him.
For a moment—
He smiled.
And just like that—
Their clan took its first step.
But Nobu knew…
This was only the beginning.