We knew he was planning something.
That much was obvious.
But so was I.
I gathered everyone in the camp the night before. Not in armor. Not in formation. Just people—summoners, smiths, fighters, children, survivors. I stood in front of them and told them what I was going to do.
Not everything.
Some things are safer when they stay unspoken.
No questions were asked when I finished. No arguments. Just nods. Tight expressions. Understanding.
At dawn, I stepped through the portal alone.
The arena was massive—circular, reinforced, layered with barriers and surveillance towers. Academy architecture at its finest: designed not just to contain power, but to display it.
Every seat was filled.
Students in uniform. Instructors standing behind them. Officers lining the outer ring. They weren't there to witness a duel.
They were there to watch an execution.
And I was the lesson.
I stood at the center of the ring, unarmed for now, white armor clean, Oni mask resting at my side. Above us, floating platforms carried cameras and projection arrays.
My people were watching too.
Not from here.
From somewhere else.
Waiting.
The Director arrived with no announcement.
One moment the opposite gate was sealed, the next it opened—and he walked in as if the arena belonged to him. Fully armed. Layered armor glowing faintly with embedded crystals. Calm. Confident.
He looked around slowly.
Then at me.
"So," he said, voice amplified across the arena, "how do you like your deathbed?"
A few students laughed. Nervous. Excited.
I met his gaze.
"It would've been better," I replied evenly, "if every student from Academy One and Two were here to see it."
His smile widened.
"Don't worry," he said. "They will be. Transports are already en route. Before the fight starts."
He gestured around casually. "Until then—enjoy the place."
Above us, new platforms slid into position.
Behind the scenes, things were moving.
Kazim was already at work. A massive display system—larger than anything the academies used for announcements—was being assembled piece by piece, hidden behind inactive panels. Silent. Patient.
Elsewhere, the greens were preparing seating.
Not just here.
On our side.
Rows and rows of stone and living wood shaped into terraces. Enough for thousands. More than could fit in this arena alone.
Because not everyone would be staying here.
And not everyone would be watching from this world.
On our planet, portals shimmered quietly—stable, wide, ready. Every team was in position. Every route memorized. Every signal understood.
No one moved.
They were waiting for me.
I looked around the arena one last time.
At the students. At the banners. At the weapons. At the system that told them this was normal.
This was necessary.
This was order.
I placed the Oni mask over my face.
The Director tilted his head. "Still think you're the hero?"
I didn't answer.
Because heroes fight to win.
I was here to end something.
And when the signal came—
This arena would stop being a stage.
It would become a doorway.