I woke up at seven, after having gotten up at four and trying to fall back asleep for a full hour, my body still heavy from the night before.
The semifinals were set to start in the afternoon, which left the morning free for the interview with BTMC.
After a quick shower, some finger stretches, breakfast, and a check of Discord for community messages, I headed down to the hotel lobby at ten.
The cool air and soft lighting in the reception area gave it a calm feel, a stark contrast to the chaos of Akihabara I would face later.
The two bodyguards were waiting for me, impeccable in their black suits and earpieces.
"Mr. Iori, are you feeling good today?" one of them asked, a trace of concern in his voice.
"Yeah, I'm good," I answered with a smile. "After yesterday, passing out isn't an option."
The comeback against Ninerik, the record on Through the Fire and Flames, the fainting—it all felt like some fever dream.
The same Uber from the previous days was waiting outside the hotel to take us to Akihabara.
When we arrived, the crowd outside Taito Station had easily doubled from the day before: fans in Osu! shirts, streamers with mics and cameras interviewing anyone who would stop.
"And I thought yesterday was packed…" I thought, scanning the scene as I walked into the building.
Inside the competition room, the familiar hum of PC fans greeted me like an old friend.
Mrekk and Ivaxa were already at their stations, warming up on some maps.
"Hey—" I started, but got cut off.
"Christian!" BTMC called out, bounding over with his usual energy. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt covered in musical notes and Osu! logos. "We gotta do this interview—the community's going nuts!"
"On my way," I said, laughing. "Just let me say hi to Mrekk and Ivaxa real quick."
"Cool, I'll be over on the couches," he replied, grinning wide.
"BTMC really loves playing commentator," I thought, watching him head back while chatting with a tech about camera placement, totally caught up in it.
I greeted Mrekk, who met me with a fist bump and a "Hey, Pantera!", then Ivaxa, who gave me a curious look, like he was still dissecting my plays from yesterday.
"See you in the semis, yeah?" Ivaxa said, his face a mix of respect and rivalry.
I nodded, adrenaline already kicking in. "Can't wait."
I walked over to the interview couches. "BTMC, I'm ready," I said, sitting down.
"Let's do this!" he shouted, signaling the tech, who started the stream.
The Twitch and YouTube chats blew up with emojis and messages:
«Let's go Pantera!» Frank5 wrote.
«Destroy Ivaxa,» Zanzana typed.
«W Ivaxa,» MishanD spammed.
BTMC jumped right in, voice bright and loud. "Christian, tell us—how did you pass Through the Fire and Flames, a 10.86-star map?"
I nodded, trying to look calm. "Nothing crazy," I said, aiming for humble. "I knew losing that round would knock me out. When I saw the map, something just clicked—the panther in me woke up. It felt impossible, but I gave it everything."
"I can't exactly say I was mashing half the map," I thought while I spoke.
"And that comeback against Ninerik? What's the secret?" BTMC pressed, leaning in like he was interrogating me.
"Can't tell him about the chat taunts…"
"I was wrecked after the first two rounds," I explained, picking my words carefully. "The blackout actually gave me a chance to catch my breath and reset. By the time I got back to Taito Station, my head was clear, and I managed to turn it around."
The crowd applauded, and chat filled with «W Pantera».
The interview went on for half an hour—questions about my prep, my playstyle, the community.
"Your fans are losing it, Christian," BTMC said, glancing at the chat. "Anything you want to say to them?"
"Thanks," I said, looking straight at the camera. "China, Mathew, John—all of you, you're my strength. I wouldn't be here without you. Today I'm giving it everything again, so buckle up!"
Chat exploded with hearts and panther emojis, warming my chest. "This is my family."
Once the interview wrapped, I decided to use the time before lunch to grind a few 10-star maps.
After Through the Fire and Flames, I felt like my ceiling had moved. "If I pass another one, Ivaxa'll know yesterday wasn't just luck."
I picked Granat—10.19 stars, perfect for my fast flicks.
It was brutal, a whirlwind of notes that seemed to defy physics. I completed it with 94.12% accuracy—an insane score for a 10-star.
My fingers were on fire. "These maps are beyond human," I thought, rubbing my wrists.
I took a break, grabbing a Coke from the vending machine at the far end of the room.
After ten minutes watching Ivaxa play from behind his station, my fingers felt good again.
I loaded No Title—10.47 stars, heavier on sliders than flicks.
Not my strongest style, but I wanted to push anyway. The breakneck pace started feeling almost natural; the cursor glided through sliders with a smoothness I hadn't expected.
I passed it at 93.70%, proof that yesterday's Through the Fire and Flames wasn't a fluke.
Even Panther's Sight was adapting to the new level, keeping up better and better with the circles as they appeared.
On the global leaderboard for No Title, it was just me and Mrekk trading the top spot.
Ivaxa looked over, eyes wide. "How the hell did you do that!? You're owning 10-stars now!" There was tension in his voice.
"Ivaxa and Mrekk didn't expect me to hit this level in just a year," I thought. "Honestly, neither did I."
It was lunchtime. As usual, I headed out with Nijiro, Mrekk, and Ivaxa. BTMC stayed back at Taito Station to set up the afternoon streams.
"Kōtō bound," Nijiro announced with a grin.
"Perfect," I said, sliding into his Skyline R32.
He drove us to a sushi spot on the fifth floor of a sleek building, floor-to-ceiling windows giving us a stunning view over Kōtō's canals and Tokyo's skyscrapers.
"Looks expensive," I said, taking in the glossy wooden tables and waiters in kimonos.
"It is," Nijiro answered, smirking. "But the owner's a buddy—he gives us a deal."
"Lucky us," I said, relieved, as we took our seats.
The menu was a work of art: toro nigiri, ultra-fresh uni, hamachi sashimi that gleamed under the soft lights.
But the mood was heavy.
Ivaxa kept drumming his fingers on the table, staring into space.
Mrekk, usually the one cracking jokes, stayed quiet, eyes locked on his phone.
I was the least nervous. I held the title of the player who had completed the highest-star map in Osu! history, and that gave me confidence.
"Ivaxa knows yesterday wasn't luck. And Mrekk… maybe he underestimated me and now he's worried about facing me in the finals," I thought, picking up a nigiri.
Nijiro broke the silence by setting down his chopsticks. "Food not good? It's killer." He paused, then flashed a sly grin. "Ah, I get it—even Mrekk's scared of Christian now!"
Mrekk looked up. "That's not true!" he protested, scrambling for excuses that didn't land with anyone.
"He's feeling it," I thought, fighting a smile.
Still, I respected Mrekk—the world number one, a living legend. And Ivaxa, my semifinal opponent, was just as dangerous.
Lunch was incredible, but the bill made me wince: 7,000 yen each, even after the 40% discount.
"Good thing I'm paying with my phone, or the cash I withdrew would already be gone," I thought as I tapped it on the reader.
Nijiro always took us to amazing places, but in just a few days I had already blown through more than 250 euros.
We got back to Taito Station, and checking my phone I saw I still had time before three, when the semis kicked off.
I warmed up on two more 10-star maps: Sidetracked Day, 10.33 difficulty, packed with jump patterns and flicks, and Big Blue, 10.28 stars, notorious for its nasty sliders. I completed them at 92.88% and 93.14% accuracy.
My fingers were starting to handle that inhuman speed, but every map felt like a fight against my own body. "If I keep this up against Ivaxa, I've got a shot."
The street outside was getting packed, cars barely moving, the crowd's buzz growing louder by the minute.
Ivaxa at his station looked tense, double-checking everything: tablet positioned to the millimeter, pen grip perfect, hand warmers close by.
Mrekk shot me a look that mixed respect and challenge, like he was already picturing us in the finals.
"See you soon, champ," I thought, tightening my grip on the Wacom pen.
BTMC climbed onto the stage, mic in hand, voice booming. "Ladies and gentlemen, get ready! Pantera Grigia versus Ivaxa—the battle you've all been waiting for! The Osu! World Cup semifinals are about to begin!"
Ivaxa picked first: Hikari, 9.76 stars, a masterpiece of lethal precision. Tiny circles that demanded pinpoint aim mixed with blistering-fast patterns.
It was Ivaxa's home turf—the player with the highest average accuracy ever: 99.75%.
"He wants to bury me right out of the gate," I thought, a chill running down my spine.
Hikari blasted through my headphones, a flood of notes hitting me hard.
The circles came like bullets in a bullet hell—small, fast, forcing absolute focus.
My fingers flew, cursor chasing every note dead-on.
Ivaxa was relentless, his cursor flowing like the pressure didn't touch him.
We kept trading the lead, scores swinging, combos climbing.
A perfect flick put me ahead; one mistimed circle dropped me back. "Can't miss. Not now."
The crowd held its breath, the PC fans drowned out by cheers.
BTMC shouted, "Unbelievable! Pantera Grigia and Ivaxa are dead even—an inhuman precision showdown! Who takes the first point?"
Scores flashed on the big screen, separated by just a handful of points.
The air was thick; every click could change everything.
We hit the final pattern—a whirlwind of tiny circles, the ultimate test of mental and physical stamina.
I took a deep breath, heart hammering, and smashed every note with raw determination.
The screen went black. Silence.
Then the results appeared:
Ivaxa: 99.99%, 0 misses.
Pantera Grigia: 99.95%, 0 misses.
Ivaxa won by a whisker.
1-0.
"Damn. He's a machine," I thought, rubbing my throbbing fingers—like they had just climbed a mountain.
The crowd exploded, half roaring for Ivaxa, half for me.
I wiped my sweaty palm, feeling the full weight of his skill. "He won't bite on trash talk. I have to beat him clean, with pure technique."
My turn to pick.
After Hikari, my hands felt like lead. "A 10-star right now would wreck me."
I went with Marshmary—9.16 stars, a whirlwind of high-speed flicks, my strongest suit. "If I play clean, I can take him."
The map started, pulling me in like a wave.
Flicks were my bread and butter: every click a burst of precision, the cursor moving with pure instinct.
Ivaxa wouldn't let up, but halfway through he slipped—a single mistimed note, a tiny mistake that cost him big.
Adrenaline hit me hard. "He's human after all."
The crowd felt the shift; the chanting got louder: "Pan-te-ra! Pan-te-ra!"
BTMC shouted, "Unbelievable! Ivaxa misses! Pantera Grigia takes the lead!"
I pushed harder, every flick landing perfect; my fingers flew, the pen an extension of me.
I finished with a full combo and 100% accuracy—an SS.
Ivaxa ended at 99.98%, docked for that half-point slip.
The screen flashed:
Winner - Pantera Grigia. 1-1.
The room erupted, a wall of sound that rattled the windows.
BTMC yelled, "Pantera Grigia evens the score! An SS on Marshmary! This semifinal is wide open!"
Ivaxa picked third: Tower of Heaven, 9.28 stars—neutral ground where we both shone.
On the global leaderboard for the map, he was first, Mrekk second, me third, separated by just a few points.
"Whoever wants it more wins," I thought, gripping the pen tighter.
The map kicked off with rapid flicks and treacherous sliders, circles popping up fast and unpredictable.
Ivaxa was a machine, cursor surgical. But I matched him, fingers flowing with something almost otherworldly.
We kept swapping the lead, scores swinging on the big screen.
BTMC cried, "Pantera Grigia and Ivaxa neck-and-neck on Tower of Heaven! This is epic!"
The crowd went dead quiet. My palms were slick, the pen slipping—but I kept going, click after click.
The final pattern was a brutal storm of notes. I nailed every circle with pinpoint accuracy, making the impossible look easy.
The screen went black. Silence.
Then the results:
Pantera Grigia: 99.97%, 0 misses.
Ivaxa: 99.95%, 0 misses.
I had won—and set a new world record.
2-1 to me.
The room exploded again, the roar shaking the windows.
BTMC screamed, "Pantera Grigia pulls ahead! A new record on Tower of Heaven!"
Ivaxa shot me a tense look, but it carried real respect.
"I turned it around, but it's not over yet," I thought, rubbing my fingers.
My pick.
Adrenaline was still pumping, hands warm.
I chose Granat—10.19 stars, the one I had warmed up on that morning, a tornado of fast flicks, my ace. "Let's end it big."
When Granat flashed on the big screen, a wave of shock rippled through the room; outside, the street erupted.
Ivaxa went pale, eyes wide.
"He knows he's never cleared a 10-star," I thought, feeling a little more confident.
BTMC bellowed, "Pantera Grigia raises the stakes! Granat, 10.19 stars! A challenge beyond human limits!"
The map started—a blaze of fire.
Notes flew at 330 BPM, a hurricane of flicks that demanded inhuman reflexes.
My fingers soared, cursor dancing with unnatural grace.
Ivaxa fought hard, but halfway through he hesitated on a vicious pattern and broke combo.
Seeing he had missed a circle, I pushed even harder to build the biggest lead I could.
The map ended after two and a half minutes of pure intensity; the screen went dark.
Results appeared:
Pantera Grigia: 96.05%, 1 miss.
Ivaxa: 90.43%, 3 misses.
I had beaten my own record and won the semifinal.
The room detonated, the roar shaking all of Akihabara.
BTMC shouted, "Pantera Grigia takes it! 96.05% on Granat! We have our first finalist!"
The crowd chanted: "Pan-te-ra! Pan-te-ra!"
Ivaxa walked over, offering his hand with a tired but genuine smile.
"Great match, Christian," he said. "I just cleared my first 10-star because of you. Now go win the final!"
I shook it firmly. "You bet. I never thought I'd get this far, but now there's no way I'm losing. Great match!"
Mrekk had just started his semifinal, but the outcome felt certain from the first click: the world number one was going to dominate.
The final was at five. after the third-place match between Ivaxa and, most likely, Jahkon.
I had two hours to rest. I headed to a quiet lounge area in Taito Station and lay down, closing my eyes.
The panther was ready to roar, but first I needed to recharge. "This is it, Christian. The final's waiting."