Above the field, the Wind User hovered effortlessly, his robes billowing around him as currents of air kept him aloft. His arms were crossed, a condescending smirk etched on his face as he observed the chaos below. The air around him shimmered with his mana, distorting like heat waves rising from hot pavement.
"A bunch of brutes, all fighting for scraps," he muttered, his voice carrying on the self-made breeze.
But one competitor stood out among the rest—Gojima, the Axe-Wielder.
A towering, heavily armored warrior wielding an axe that looked like it could cleave through solid rock. Light glinted off the polished metal of his blade as he moved slowly, deliberately, each step leaving deep impressions in the ground. His tank-like frame carried an aura of unstoppable force that made even the most aggressive fighters hesitate, the ground trembling slightly beneath his armored boots.
The Wind User sneered, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "Big guy like that? No aerial mobility? Easy target."
A gust of wind spiraled around him, whipping up dust and debris as he summoned a tornado beneath Gojima's feet, the roaring vortex churning the earth as it formed. The Wind User grinned, fully expecting Gojima to be ripped from the ground and tossed helplessly into the air like a ragdoll.
But Gojima vanished from the tornado's path, the air where he stood suddenly empty.
The Wind User's smirk faded, his brow furrowing in confusion. The air currents around him fluctuated with his agitation.
"Where—?"
Then, out of the corner of his eye—
SLASH!
A delayed axe strike ripped toward him, the air itself seeming to split as the blade tore through space. The Wind User barely had time to react before throwing up a wind shield to protect himself, the compressed air shimmering like glass as it formed. The force of the attack nearly broke through, the shield visibly cracking under the pressure, sending vibrations through the Wind User's arms.
He gritted his teeth, the realization dawning. "He wasn't dodging. He was delaying his movements...!"
Kage Watches From Above -- The Ability Revealed
From the observation deck, Kage leaned forward, the leather of his chair creaking beneath him. His usual bored expression was replaced with genuine interest, his eyes tracking every movement below through his designer sunglasses.
"Now that's interesting," he muttered, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation.
His mind pieced it together quickly, analyzing the patterns of attack and defense with practiced precision:
Gojima wasn't just avoiding the tornadoes. His movements were calculated, timed with perfect precision.
He was delaying where he actually was. Whenever a tornado formed beneath his feet, he had already chosen a different location, but it just hadn't happened yet. The air around him seemed to ripple slightly whenever his ability activated, a subtle distortion that was nearly imperceptible unless you knew to look for it.
And his attacks? Also delayed, trailing behind his movements like echoes.
The Wind User had been fighting a ghost of where the Axe-Wielder used to be, always one step behind in a battle of temporal manipulation.
Kage grinned, the sharp angles of his face accentuated in the harsh lighting of the observation deck. "Yeah... I'd hate to fight that guy."
Final Seconds -- The Fight Should Be Over... But Pride Won't Let It
The countdown hit 00:10.
The announcer's voice boomed across the battlefield, resonating through the chests of all present. "The trial phase is ending! All combatants, cease fighting immediately!"
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Gojima lowered his weapon, the massive blade glinting as it dipped toward the ground. Sweat trickled down Gojima's face beneath his helmet, his breathing heavy but controlled.
But the Wind User... did not relent. His pride had been wounded, and the bitterness of near-defeat tasted like ash in his mouth.
"No way I let this end without getting my win!" he roared, his voice carried and amplified by his own winds. The air around him began to swirl violently, collecting razor-sharp debris from the battlefield. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he directed the deadly cyclone straight at Gojima, the sound like a thousand blades being sharpened at once.
The announcer shouted again, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. "The battle is over! STAND DOWN!"
Gojima raised his shield, the metal groaning under the strain as he braced against the impending impact. His muscles tensed beneath his armor, the plates shifting slightly with his movement.
And then—
THUD.
Mr. Haikito's Intervention
In a blink, a mere fraction of a second that seemed to stretch into eternity—
The Wind User was face-first in the dirt, dust billowing around him from the impact. His eyes were wide with shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
His arm was twisted behind his back at an unnatural angle, the sound of his pained breathing loud in the sudden silence. Blood trickled from his nose, soaking into the dirt beneath him.
A shadow loomed over him, blocking out the artificial light.
Mr. Haikito had arrived, his presence descending on the battlefield like a sudden winter chill.
His voice was low, almost a whisper—but it cut through the battlefield like a blade, reaching every ear with unnatural clarity.
"If you make another sudden move, I will kill you."
The words hung in the air, heavy with promise, not threat.
The battlefield fell silent, not a single breath or movement disturbing the stillness. All eyes were fixed on the scene, transfixed by the display of absolute authority.
Gojima lowered his guard, his massive axe dropping to his side. His eyes widened slightly beneath his helmet, pupils dilating in shock.
"I thought I was the most dangerous thing here."
"I was wrong."
He hadn't even seen Haikito move. One moment the Wind User was attacking, the next—subdued with terrifying efficiency. The speed was beyond comprehension, beyond what should have been physically possible.
Haikito lifted the Wind User by his collar, effortlessly holding him in the air. The fabric strained under his grip, but held. The Wind User's feet dangled helplessly, his body suddenly seeming small and insignificant in Haikito's grasp.
Then, his cold, calculating gaze shifted to the rest of the battlefield, scanning the sea of competitors. His piercing blue eyes seemed to see through each person, peering into their very souls. The temperature around him seemed to drop several degrees, creating a pocket of chill in the otherwise warm arena.
A Message to the Survivors
Haikito's voice was calm, measured, almost pleasant. "I love the competitiveness. The drive. The hunger."
Then—his tone turned dark, filled with an overwhelming, suffocating presence that pressed down on everyone present. The air grew thick, making it difficult to breathe.
"But we are an academy of rules and discipline."
His gaze swept across the competitors, his voice dropping into something merciless, final. The words seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath their feet.
"Anyone who disobeys my cadre..."
A pause, during which not a single person dared to breathe.
Then—pure authority dripped from his voice, his words carrying the weight of absolute power.
"You will be erased. Your ambition, your existence—vanished."
The Wind User—shaking, wide-eyed—nodded quickly, his face ashen, all color drained away. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running down his temples in rivulets.
Haikito released his grip, letting him collapse to his knees, gasping for air. The sound of his desperate breathing echoed in the silence.
The battlefield was still as stone, no one daring to move a muscle, all eyes fixed on Haikito's imposing figure.
The announcer cleared his throat, the sound uncomfortably loud in the tense silence. His voice was steady, though a slight tremor betrayed his nervousness. "As of this moment, the first phase of the trial is concluded."
The battlefield exhaled as a whole, the tension breaking like a dam. Some competitors collapsed from exhaustion, their legs finally giving out beneath them. Others stood tall in victory, shoulders squared despite their fatigue, the relief evident in their postures.
"Of the 200 remaining competitors... 192 of your licenses are shining as anomalies."
A beat, the words sinking in.
"Congratulations."
A mixture of cheers, sighs of relief, and silent disbelief spread across the field. The sound swelled, filling the arena with the catharsis of survival.
"Phase 2 of the trial will begin tomorrow at 2 PM. Rest well. You will need it. If you have more than 2 glowing licenses, please turn them in and we will see you at 5 PM!"
The battlefield erupted with reactions:
- Josuke screamed in excitement, his voice cracking with emotion, hands punching the air. "I MADE IT TO PHASE 2!!"
- Raiden, Hiro, and the passed-out Bernard also qualified, their licenses pulsing with golden light against their skin.
- Some competitors grinned with satisfaction, muscles relaxing for the first time in hours.
- Others stared at Haikito with newfound fear, their bodies instinctively tensing whenever his gaze passed over them.
Haikito turned away from the battlefield, his presence still lingering like a storm cloud. The competitors parted before him, creating a path as he walked, no one daring to stand in his way.
His gaze lifted—to the observation deck, his piercing blue eyes seeming to pierce through the distance.
Where Kage and Rei sat watching. Kage's expression was one of contempt, his jaw set in a hard line as he looked down at Haikito. In contrast, Rei's face showed nothing but curiosity, his eyes filled with questions about the man who had moved with impossible speed.
A slow smirk formed on Haikito's lips, subtle but unmistakable.
This wasn't just about who survived the battlefield.
His real plans were only beginning.