Arou was still standing among the others, not yet fully recovered from the pressure of the previous round.
He lowered his head, trying to steady his breath.
Suddenly, the announcement echoed.
"For the final match…"
Arou lifted his head.
"From the side of the fighters—"
Pause.
"Arou."
"What—?"
"My turn?"
Without waiting for further explanation, Arou immediately ran toward the preparation corridor.
Moments later, he re-entered the arena.
In both hands, he held two swords.
One was red like fire, its blade radiating a faint heat.
The other was blue like water, calm yet deeply overwhelming.
Arou stood in the center of the arena, staring straight ahead.
The announcement continued.
"A new fighter enters the deciding round."
"Armed with two blades of opposing natures."
Arou tightened his grip.
"And his opponent from the invaders' side is—"
The sentence broke off.
The air inside the arena suddenly changed.
A heavy pressure pressed in from all directions.
The crowd fell silent instantly.
Some froze, others held their breath without realizing it.
Footsteps echoed casually.
A man walked in, laughing softly.
"Hahaha…"
"Still the same as always."
Priscilla began trembling violently.
"No…"
"Why… him…"
Zata looked around the arena with interest, then locked his gaze on Arou.
His smile widened.
"Hello, protagonist."
Arou's heart pounded.
"Why are you here too…?"
"What do you want?!"
Zata laughed freely.
"Hahaha, is that not allowed?"
"Besides…"
He raised his hand slightly.
"This is my game."
Arou swallowed hard. Both swords trembled—not from fear, but from pressure.
Zata then glanced sideways.
His eyes stopped on Priscilla.
"Oh?"
"So you're still here."
Priscilla collapsed weakly.
"My lord…"
Zata smiled faintly.
"Don't worry."
"I'm not here for you yet."
He looked back at Arou, full of interest.
"Two swords…"
"Fire and water."
Zata chuckled.
"Then—don't disappoint me."
The arena had not even announced the start yet.
But one thing was clear—
this final round was not just a battle.
The announcement finally rang out.
"Fight begins!"
The moment the words fell, Arou moved.
Without hesitation, he dashed forward, both swords drawn back—
fire in the right hand, water in the left.
Zata didn't move at all.
He stood casually, hands in his pockets, still smiling.
"He… isn't doing anything?"
"Why is he just standing there?"
Arou accelerated.
"Don't underestimate me!"
In a single clean motion, Arou slashed with his fire blade toward Zata's shoulder.
A precise strike.
It hit.
And yet—
Zata did not react.
Did not step back.
Did not flinch.
Instead, Arou felt a sharp pain.
"—?!"
He stopped abruptly.
Blood dripped from Arou's own shoulder.
"What…?"
Arou stared at his wound, breath catching.
"I… am the one injured…?"
Zata finally let out a soft laugh.
"Hahaha…"
"Still the same."
He turned slightly toward Arou.
"Attacking without understanding your opponent."
The crowd erupted in confusion.
"It hit, didn't it?"
"Then why is he the one bleeding?"
"What kind of ability is that…?"
Arou stepped back, clutching his shoulder.
"Don't tell me…"
"My attack was reflected…?"
Zata smiled wider, clearly enjoying himself.
"Try again," he said casually.
"I want to see how far you can go."
The pressure in the arena deepened.
Arou inhaled sharply, enduring the pain.
The blue water blade in his left hand trembled slightly, streams of water circling its edge.
"If fire is reflected…"
"Then I'll try something else."
He dashed again.
This time, the water blade swung lower, forming a layered wave-like slash rushing toward Zata.
"A water strike—!"
Zata still stood in place.
But before it made contact—
A cold sensation pierced Arou's body.
"—gh!"
He staggered.
New wounds appeared on his arm and side, deeper than before. Blood dripped onto the arena floor.
"Even worse…?!"
Arou dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.
Zata sighed, as if bored.
"Water, fire… it makes no difference."
"As long as you don't understand the rules."
Then—
Zata stepped forward.
Just one step.
The pressure in the arena spiked violently.
The crowd tensed.
"He's… finally moving."
"Just one step and everything feels different."
"This is bad…"
Arou forced himself up, raising both swords.
"So now you're getting serious…?"
Zata smiled, eyes bright with interest.
"Serious?"
"Not yet."
He was suddenly in front of Arou.
No footsteps.
No warning.
Arou reflexively raised both swords to defend—
but his body felt crushed from within, as if struck by an invisible force.
"—ugh!"
He was blasted backward, rolling across the arena.
His fire sword stuck into the ground.
His water blade nearly slipped from his hand.
The crowd panicked.
"This is a different level!"
"Arou can't even touch him!"
"At this rate… he'll die!"
Zata stood calmly, watching Arou struggle to rise.
"Still want to continue?" he asked with a smile.
"Or are you starting to regret being brought here?"
Arou lifted his head, blood dripping from his arm.
"Not yet…"
"I haven't lost yet."
Zata chuckled softly.
"Good."
"I hate fights that end too quickly."
The pressure grew heavier.
For the first time, everyone realized the same truth—
this deciding round could end in real death.
Priscilla trembled violently.
Her eyes fixed on Zata as if staring at the end of everything.
With a shaky but firm voice, she said:
"Zata is not a fighter…"
"He is a destroyer… and a creator of life."
Nora's eyes widened.
"What…?"
Hikari froze.
"If that's true…"
"Arou is done for."
Zata heard her.
He smiled slowly.
His gaze shifted to Priscilla.
"Oh?"
"Priscilla…"
His smile widened, far more sinister than before.
"Why did you betray me?"
Priscilla flinched, collapsing to her knees.
"I'm sorry, my lord… I didn't mean—"
Before she could finish—
Zata spoke softly:
"Strike power…"
"0.01%."
He swung his fist toward Priscilla.
Not fast.
Not hard.
And yet—
the impact did not touch her body.
Reality itself shattered.
In an instant, the entire arena collapsed.
Ground broke apart.
Space distorted.
Sound vanished.
A cosmic pressure swept through everything.
No one had time to scream.
Airi.
Ukyo.
Tomo.
Haru.
Rei.
Nova.
Nora.
Setsuna.
Hikari.
And Priscilla—
all vanished at once, as if erased from existence.
Dust slowly fell.
Absolute silence covered everything.
Zata stood alone in the ruins.
He looked at his fist, then exhaled softly.
"…Oops."
His eyes turned back to Arou.
"Oh right."
"You're still here."
A smile returned.
"Now we can play without interruptions."
---
Silence.
Not silence because there was no sound—
but because there was nothing left to make sound.
The destroyed arena was gone.
Ground, sky, boundaries of space—all erased.
Only a vast white field remained.
Arou stood panting, his knees touching a surface that didn't even feel solid.
"What… is this…?"
He looked around.
Nothing.
No audience.
No seats.
No sky.
Only two figures.
Arou—
and Zata.
Zata stood casually, as if this were his personal space.
"Don't worry," he said lightly.
"I just reset the stage."
Arou tightened his grip on both swords.
"Where are they…?"
"The others…?"
Zata tilted his head.
"Deleted temporarily."
"If they remain, you won't grow."
Arou froze.
"This… isn't a tournament?"
Zata smiled.
"A tournament?"
"Hahaha… that's just a cover."
He stepped forward.
Each step made space tremble.
"I want to see," Zata continued,
"if you are worthy of being called the protagonist."
Arou held his breath.
"Why me…?"
Zata stopped in front of him.
His tone was calm—but focused.
"Because you are the only one," he said quietly,
"who still stands even when all rules are broken."
Arou stayed silent.
Zata raised one finger.
"There are those who use time."
"Magic."
"Technology."
"Godly power."
He lowered his finger, pointing at Arou's chest.
"But you—"
"persist through your own choices."
Arou remembered wounds that appeared without cause.
Pressure that almost crushed him.
Yet he kept moving forward.
"If I fail…?" Arou asked softly.
Zata smiled faintly.
"Then I will replace this world."
"Again."
Arou stiffened.
"So all of this—"
"Is a test," Zata interrupted.
"Not for fighting."
"But for choosing."
He stepped back slightly, opening his arms.
"Now—"
"we start from the beginning."
The white field began to pulse.
Arou's fire blade burned brighter.
His water blade flowed more intensely.
Zata smiled in satisfaction.
"Come on, protagonist."
"Show me…"
"what you'll do when there is no one left to save."
The space trembled.
And the real fight was about to begin.
---
The white field pulsed stronger.
Arou inhaled deeply.
He lowered both swords, then brought them together before his chest.
Fire and water merged.
Not as destruction—but as balance.
Zata raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"You're trying to combine opposites."
Arou closed his eyes.
"I won't choose one," he said quietly.
"I choose both."
Flames and water intertwined into layered energy.
Zata smiled wider.
Interesting.
He raised his hand.
And—
time stopped.
But Arou still thought.
"This isn't magic…"
Zata walked through the frozen space.
"I didn't stop time," he said.
"I severed causality."
Arou tightened his grip.
Then—
he struck not at Zata,
but at himself.
Not to harm.
But to break the link.
Space trembled violently.
Possibility returned.
Time resumed.
Zata stepped back half a step.
"Hahaha…"
"So that's it."
Arou stood firm.
"I don't want a new world."
"I want the old one back."
Zata looked at him for a long moment.
Then smiled.
"Good choice, protagonist."
The white field faded.
The arena returned—
not reset, but restored.
---
The world stabilized.
Arou stood tall, breathing heavily.
Zata observed him.
"Hm…"
"You could have gone further."
Arou lifted his head.
"Then—"
Zata raised a finger.
"No."
Everything froze.
Not time.
Not space.
But Arou's existence itself.
"What—"
He couldn't move.
Zata stepped closer.
"Interesting choice," he said flatly.
"But the game doesn't end because one player makes the right decision."
He touched Arou's chest.
No explosion.
No sound.
Just silence.
Arou's swords cracked into light and vanished.
His body dissolved into dust.
His expression remained calm until the very end.
Zata pulled his hand back.
"The protagonist is finished."
The white field vanished instantly.
The arena returned—
empty.
Zata stood alone.
He clapped once.
"Alright," he said casually.
"Next round."
An automated announcement echoed:
"Fighter eliminated."
"Proceeding to game seven."
Zata smiled faintly.
"Hopefully the next one…"
"won't be boring."
The arena lights turned on again.
And the game continued—
as if nothing had ever happened.
And with a single casual strike, Zata ended Arou.