The rain had not softened. If anything, it had grown heavier—thicker drops crashing against the concrete like nails, turning the entire assembly ground of Hostel 1 into a flooded battlefield. Water pooled around broken chains, scattered debris, and the unmoving bodies of defeated fighters.
At the center of it all, Alexander Vane stood—barely. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath dragging through exhaustion. His knuckles were bruised, his sleeves torn, his golden hair now flattened against his forehead by the relentless rain. Across from him, Kuroda Haruki was no different. Her stance had lost none of its sharpness, but the tremor in her legs betrayed the strain.
They had already fought beyond what most could endure.
And yet… neither had stepped back.
For a moment, it seemed like they would continue—push past exhaustion, past reason, past limits.
But then the air shifted.
Not the kind of shift caused by wind or rain.
Something deeper.
Every instinct in that courtyard screamed the same warning.
He was moving.
Shogun Kurogami stepped forward, the umbrella still resting lightly over his shoulder. Rain slid off its edges in clean streams, never touching him. His pace was unhurried, almost casual—but every step felt like pressure applied directly onto the ground itself.
Alexander didn't move.
He couldn't.
Not because of fear—
But because something in him understood that moving recklessly now would be meaningless.
Kurogami stopped just inches away from him.
Then, without warning, he reached out.
His hand closed around Alexander's lower jaw—his mandible—fingers digging in just enough to force his head upward. The grip wasn't violent, but it wasn't gentle either. It was control. Absolute, effortless control.
"And there you are…" Kurogami said, his voice calm, almost amused.
His eyes scanned Alexander's face slowly, as if inspecting a flawed piece of craftsmanship.
"A Vane."
The rain pounded harder.
"You are such a loser in the name of the Vane family," he continued, tilting Alexander's head slightly. "A boy who shares a drink with a complete stranger."
The words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be.
Everyone present understood the weight behind them.
Sharing a drink of soju wasn't casual.
It wasn't friendship.
It was submission.
A declaration of loyalty.
And Alexander had given that loyalty to Akshat.
For a brief moment, something flickered in Alexander's eyes—not shame, not regret… but defiance.
Kurogami noticed.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
Then he let go.
The moment his hand released Alexander's jaw—he moved.
No warning.
No stance.
No visible preparation.
Just motion.
His fist came forward, cutting through the rain like a blade.
Alexander reacted on instinct. His body shifted, raising his guard just in time to absorb the impact—but the force behind it was overwhelming. His feet slid across the wet ground, shoes scraping against concrete as he barely held his balance.
He didn't fall.
That alone was enough to make several people in the courtyard inhale sharply.
Kuroda Haruki's eyes narrowed.
That level of resistance…
Even she hadn't managed that cleanly.
Kurogami's expression didn't change, but his next strike came faster. A sharp pivot of his foot, followed by a sweeping kick aimed at Alexander's ribs.
Alexander twisted his torso, trying to deflect it—
The impact still landed.
A dull, heavy sound echoed as his body was thrown sideways, crashing into the ground and skidding across the rain-soaked surface. Water splashed violently around him.
But again—
He stood up.
Slowly.
Pain shot through his body, his muscles screaming, his ribs protesting every breath—but his posture didn't break.
He stepped forward.
This time, he attacked first.
A straight punch—clean, disciplined, aimed directly at Kurogami's face.
Kurogami didn't dodge.
He simply shifted his head slightly.
The punch missed by centimeters.
In that same motion, Kurogami's hand intercepted Alexander's arm, redirecting it with minimal effort. His body turned, using Alexander's own momentum against him—
Aikido.
Alexander's balance broke instantly.
Before he could recover, Kurogami's elbow drove into his back, forcing him down into the ground again. The impact echoed through the courtyard, water splashing outward in a circular wave.
Still—
Alexander pushed himself up again.
His movements were slower now.
Heavier.
But there was no hesitation.
For the first time, Kurogami spoke again during the exchange.
"You show more resistance than her," he said, glancing briefly toward Haruki. "That is… admirable."
Alexander didn't respond.
He stepped in again—this time combining strikes. A feint with his left, followed by a low kick, then a pivot into a hook. The sequence was clean, well-trained, and executed with precision despite his exhaustion.
For a split second—
Kurogami actually blocked.
Not fully.
But enough to acknowledge the attack.
Then he ended it.
A single palm strike to Alexander's chest.
The force behind it wasn't explosive—it was controlled. Perfectly measured.
And that made it worse.
Alexander's body lifted slightly off the ground before crashing back down, the air leaving his lungs completely. His vision blurred. The rain above him became distant, muffled.
He tried to move.
His fingers twitched.
But his body didn't respond.
Kurogami looked down at him, expression unchanged.
"You are also not worthy," he said calmly.
The words fell heavier than the rain.
"You are out, Alexander."
And just like that—
Alexander's consciousness slipped.
His body went still.
Across the courtyard, Kuroda Haruki stared in disbelief.
Not chosen.
Not him.
Not her.
For the first time since this entire battle began—
She didn't understand what was happening.
Silence spread.
Even the rain felt quieter now.
Then—
Kurogami's gaze shifted.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Toward Akshat Aether.
Akshat felt it instantly.
That pressure.
That attention.
He didn't hesitate.
Without a word, he stepped forward—walking past the fallen Alexander, past the shattered chains, past the stunned faces watching from the edges.
His shoes splashed through the water as he moved.
Until he stood—
Directly in front of Kurana Alexanderia.
Toe to toe.
No bow.
No greeting.
Just presence.
Akshat glanced briefly at Alexander's unconscious body lying in the rain.
Then he looked back up.
Calm.
"So…" he said, his voice steady, almost casual.
"What exactly are you thinking?"
A faint pause.
"It's not in those files of yours."
For the first time—
Kurogami reacted.
Slowly, he removed his glasses.
Rain immediately touched his face.
And then—
He smiled.
Not a polite smile.
Not a controlled one.
A real one.
Sharp.
Unsettling.
Almost… delighted.
"You are the successor," he said.
The words cut through everything.
"Akshat Aether."
"I choose you."
The courtyard froze.
Before anyone could react—
Kurogami moved again.
A punch.
Directly into Akshat's stomach.
No warning.
The impact folded Akshat's body slightly, the force driving deep—not explosive, but precise. Pain shot through his core, sharp and immediate.
He didn't fall but suddenly using a strange technique Kurogami grabbed his leg.
And then—
He started dragging him.
Across the rain-soaked ground.
Like dead weight.
Like something that belonged to him.
Akshat's body scraped against the wet concrete, water splashing around him as he was pulled forward without resistance.
No struggle.
No protest.
Just silence.
The car door opened in the distance.
And under the relentless rain—
The chosen successor was dragged away.
End of ch 63
To be continue...
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