The blade descended.
Sora's body wouldn't respond—legs locked, arms hanging uselessly at his sides, vision swimming.
I can't... move...
His muscles had exceeded their limits. Every fiber screamed in protest. His stamina was beyond empty—he was running on fumes of fumes, and even those were gone now.
The blade was three feet away.
Two feet.
What should I do?
One foot—
CRACK.
Something flashed in front of Sora—a bald head reflecting moonlight—
Fish.
He'd moved.
Not fast. Not gracefully.
Desperately.
His body was broken, but he moved—
And his mouth opened.
Golden mantra flooded his teeth—reinforcing enamel, gums, jaw—turning his bite into steel.
The black glass blade met Fish's teeth.
CLANG.
The sound of metal on metal.
Fish's jaw clamped down on the blade—holding it—stopping it inches from Sora's neck.
The shadowed figure holding the blade tilted its head, genuinely surprised.
Fish's eyes blazed with defiance.
Then—
He pivoted.
Weight shifted. Hips rotated. Leg chambered.
Taekwondo back kick.
His heel drove into the figure's chest with every last ounce of strength his body could summon.
BOOM.
The impact created a shockwave that cracked the floor, sent debris flying outward, rattled what remained of the skyscraper's structure.
The figure was launched backward—,His blade ripped from Fish's teeth—crashing through a support pillar thirty meters away.
Concrete exploded dust filled the air.
Fish stood for one perfect second—jaw still clenched, leg still extended, eyes still blazing.
Then his legs gave out.
He collapsed face-first onto the tile.
THUD.
Unconscious before he hit the ground.
Sora stared, barely able to process what just happened.
Fish...
Across the lobby, the dust began to settle.
And from the rubble—
The figure stood slowly without a mark.
It stepped forward into the moonlight streaming through shattered windows.
And Sora's blood ran cold.
Because he recognized the face.
Luke.
But... wrong.
The messy hair was the same. The build was the same. The dress was the same.
But the eyes—
Luke's golden eyes—normally bright, chaotic, full of life—
Now had dark circles at their centers.
Perfect. Geometric and void-like.
Like someone had punched holes through reality and placed them where his pupils should be.
And he was smiling.
Not Luke's goofy grin or his playful smirk.
A smile that was cruel and predatory.
Luke—no, the thing wearing Luke's face—tilted his head, and when he spoke, his voice echoed.
Like multiple voices speaking in perfect, terrible harmony.
"Found you."
Sora's legs trembled.
"It can be—"
Luke summoned his sword—Nox Aeternum.
Luke's mantra—flooded the blade.
But it wasn't golden anymore.
It was dark.
Black with streaks of sickly purple, twisting around the steel like living shadows.
Luke raised the sword and grinned wider.
"Shatter Slice."
He swung.
CRACK.
The crescent of dark mantra that erupted from the blade was massive—Space itself buckled under the weight of the attack.
The floor beneath its path didn't crack.
It twisted—stone folding in on itself, geometry breaking, angles becoming nonsensical.
The attack screamed toward Sora.
And Sora—couldn't move.
His body refused. His legs wouldn't respond. His arms hung uselessly.
He could only stare as the space-warping crescent closed the distance—
Ten meters.
Five.
I'm going to die.
Three.
I can't—
One—SLAP.
The sound was almost casual, like swatting a
Sora's eyes widened.
Because standing between him and the attack—was someone new.
Tall. Lean but athletic. Red hair—long, tied loosely, a few strands falling across his face.
Wearing a red Saint uniform—high-collared, formal—but unbuttoned completely, hanging open like he couldn't be bothered to dress properly.
One hand raised.
The back of his hand pressed against the warped crescent of dark mantra.
The attack ground against his hand—space twisting, pressure so intense the air screamed.
He had a candy in his mouth—red, spherical, tucked into his cheek.
Then—
He flicked his wrist like brushing away a curtain.
The space-warping Shatter Slice shattered— into harmless fragments of dark mantra that dissolved into nothing.
The man lowered his hand, tucking it into his pocket.
Turned his head slightly— sideways.
He pulled the candy from his mouth with his other hand, examined it briefly, then popped it back in.
And spoke.
"Oi."
He finally looked at Luke.
Red eyes—sharp, clear, completely unbothered—meeting the dark-circled golden ones.
"What's your problem?"
Luke—Evil Luke—stood across the lobby, sword still raised, smile faltering slightly.
The man with red hair didn't move.
Just stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the lollipop, posture relaxed.
Like he'd just casually walked into a mild inconvenience instead of a massacre.
Sora's mind raced.
"He stopped that attack... with the back of his hand like it was nothing..."
"Is this the power of a captain?!
The red-haired man tilted his head, waiting.
"Well?" he said flatly. "I'm waiting."
Evil Luke's smile returned—wider, crueler.
The dark circles in his eyes pulsed once.
And his voice echoed again, layered and wrong:
"Ryn Ainsworth."
Ryn scratched his cheek.
"Killing isn't allowed in the ordeal."
He pulled the lollipop from his mouth again.
"So end this here."
Sora's legs finally gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping.
"Hey Luke, what is wrong with you."
Evil Luke's smile wavered just slightly.
Ryn scratched his head with one hand, still looking bored.
"So?" he said. "You gonna stand there looking creepy, or stop this nonsense?"
He yawned.
"Either way, make it quick. I've got other stuff to do."
[MOMENTS EARLIER]
The Captain's Observation Room sat high above the simulation grounds—a circular chamber with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the entire exam area.
Holographic displays floated in the air, each one tracking different teams, showing real-time statistics, mantra readings, combat footage.
Five figures stood around the displays, arms crossed, watching silently.
And then—
BOOM.
Not a sound but a feeling.
Every single holographic display flickered simultaneously—red warnings flashing across screens, alarm symbols erupting—
But more than that—
The pressure.
It slammed into the room like a physical wave—heavy, oppressive, wrong—not just powerful, but twisted, like reality itself was being bent out of shape.
One of the Captains stumbled slightly, catching themselves against a console.
Another's eyes widened.
A third cursed under their breath.
The displays all focused on one location—Sector 7, a half-collapsed skyscraper—
And the mantra readings were screaming.
Off the charts. Beyond measurement. Spiking so high the sensors couldn't process it.
"What the hell is that?!" one Captain shouted.
Before anyone could answer—one figure moved.
Ryn Ainsworth walked toward the exit without a word.
"Ryn!" someone called. "Wait for orders—"
The door slid shut behind him.
Silence hung in the observation room for three seconds.
Then—
A low, amused chuckle.
"How typical of Ryn."
Lal—leaning casually against one of the consoles, arms crossed, a small smile playing at the corners of their mouth.
Another Captain turned. "Shouldn't we—"
Lal waved dismissively. "He's already there by now. You know how he is."
They glanced at the display showing Sector 7, where the mantra spike was still raging.
"Besides—"
Lal's smile widened slightly.
"—if Ryn's handling it, whatever's happening down there is already over."
[PRESENT]
Evil Luke's smile wavered.
Just slightly.
Ryn stood before him—hands in pockets, red hair falling loosely, lollipop tucked in his cheek—completely unbothered by the dark mantra radiating from Luke's corrupted form.
The pressure that had sent Captains stumbling in the observation room didn't even make Ryn blink.
He just looked... bored.
"Well?" Ryn said flatly, pulling the Lollipop from his mouth and examining it. "I'm still waiting."
Evil Luke's dark-circled eyes pulsed once.
His smile returned—cruel, predatory.
"Ryn Ainsworth," he said, voice echoing with layered malice.
Ryn popped the lollipop back in his mouth.
"Yeah, that's me. And?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Killing isn't allowed in the ordeal."
His tone didn't change—still flat, still casual.
"So end this here."
Behind him, Sora knelt on the ground, gasping, staring up at the red-haired Captain with wide eyes.
Captain... Sora thought, barely able to process. Is this the power of a Captain?!
Ryn scratched his cheek absently.
"Hey, Luke," he called out, tone shifting slightly—less bored, more... conversational. "What's wrong with you?"
Evil Luke's smile didn't waver.
The dark circles in his eyes pulsed again.
Ryn sighed.
"Right. Not talking. Got it."
He cracked his neck once.
"So—"
He finally took one hand out of his pocket.
Didn't draw a weapon. Didn't take a stance.
Just... held it out, palm facing Luke, like he was about to catch a ball.
"—you gonna stand there looking creepy, or we doing this?"
He yawned again.
"Either way, make it quick. I've got other stuff to do."