Chapter 20: The Cursed Child

The tension in the air was palpable as Karma stepped into the arena for his second battle of the tournament. After witnessing the incredible fight between Ray and Alya the previous day, he was more determined than ever to give his all. The weight of the tournament had finally sunk in—this wasn't just about proving himself anymore. Every match was a battle for survival, and each opponent was more dangerous than the last.

Today, his adversary was Jake, a rogue. Karma had seen rogues in action before—swift, deadly, and almost impossible to predict. But as he stood across the arena from Jake, there was something more unsettling about this man. He moved with a predatory grace, his eyes cold and calculating, and his twin daggers gleamed wickedly in the midday sun. The crowd roared in anticipation, their excitement rising as the announcer's voice boomed through the Colosseum.

"**Karma, Tamer, versus Jake, Rogue!**"

The title of rogue came with a reputation. Rogues were masters of speed and stealth, their movements impossible to follow with the naked eye. But what unsettled Karma most wasn't Jake's class or weapons—it was his eyes. They were devoid of emotion, cold and distant, as if he'd seen more death than a man his age should have.

Karma took a deep breath, glancing down at Shiro, who was by his side, ready for battle. His mind raced, strategizing for what was to come. He knew Jake would be fast—far faster than Tyson had been—and he couldn't afford to underestimate him.

The referee raised his hand, signaling for both fighters to take their positions.

"**Three… Two… One… Fight!**"

Before Karma could even react, Jake vanished from his sight, moving so fast that he seemed to disappear into thin air. The crowd gasped as Jake's form blurred, and in an instant, Karma felt a sharp pain rip across his shoulder. He barely managed to dodge the strike, but not without taking a cut. He staggered back, his hand instinctively reaching for the wound.

"Shit… how is he this fast?" Karma muttered, blood trickling down his arm.

Jake smirked, his expression cold and detached, as if he were toying with Karma. He wiped the blood from his blade with a flick of his wrist and casually twirled the dagger between his fingers. His voice was calm, almost bored. "You won't last long if you can't keep up."

Karma gritted his teeth, his heart pounding. This was more than just speed. Jake was an assassin through and through, his movements honed by years of brutal training. He had to change tactics—and fast.

As Jake prepared to launch another assault, Karma summoned his synchronization with Shiro, feeling their bond deepen. His muscles tensed, his hearing sharpened, and his reflexes heightened as he borrowed Shiro's speed and agility. But even with the synchronization, Jake was still faster, darting toward him like a shadow.

Jake slashed with both daggers, his strikes precise and lethal, aiming for Karma's throat and torso in quick succession. Karma barely managed to parry the attacks with his blade, but each movement was becoming more desperate. Jake's attacks were relentless, his form vanishing and reappearing in a blur of motion that Karma struggled to follow.

"You'll have to do better than that," Jake hissed, his cold eyes locking onto Karma's. He was playing with his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to land a killing blow.

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**Jake's Past: The Cursed Child**

Jake's speed and precision weren't just the result of training—they were born from a life of survival. Raised in a family of the world's most feared assassins, Jake had never known peace. As the youngest of four siblings, he had been nothing more than a punching bag for his older brothers and sisters, who treated him as an outcast. They called him weak, a failure, a curse on their prestigious family name.

But what hurt Jake most wasn't the beatings or the insults—it was the death of his mother. She had been the only one in his family who had shown him kindness, and her death was blamed on him. Jake was there when it happened—when his mother had mysteriously died in her sleep, her heart simply stopping. His family, seeking someone to blame, had turned on him, calling him cursed.

When Jake awakened to the rogue class at the age of fifteen, it only cemented their hatred. Rogues were often seen as underhanded, dishonorable, and deceitful in his family of assassins who prided themselves on direct combat. His father, the leader of the family, looked at him with disgust, and his siblings treated him worse than dirt.

"They were right," Jake had thought to himself at the time. "I am cursed."

So, Jake had left. He fled his family's estate and became a full-time adventurer. Over the years, his heart grew cold. He honed his skills as a rogue, becoming a master of speed, stealth, and assassination. His reputation spread far and wide, but not in the way he had hoped. Instead of being known for his strength, he was branded the **Cursed Child**, a rogue who would let his comrades die if it meant furthering his own goals.

That title haunted him wherever he went.

But Jake didn't care anymore. He had no attachments, no friends, and no mercy. All that mattered was survival and proving that he wasn't weak. He had slaughtered his way through hundreds of foes, and now, standing in the Colosseum, he was determined to win at any cost.

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**Back in the Arena**

Jake's eyes narrowed as he lunged at Karma once more, his twin daggers flashing in the sunlight. Karma, still struggling to keep up with the rogue's speed, parried another slash, but Jake was already gone, moving behind him with inhuman quickness.

"Too slow," Jake whispered in Karma's ear as he delivered a vicious kick to Karma's back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Karma groaned, rolling to his feet as quickly as he could, but Jake was already on him, aiming for a finishing blow. Karma's heart raced, his mind whirling. He couldn't keep fighting at this pace. Jake's movements were too fast, too precise. Shiro couldn't keep up either—this wasn't a fight about brute strength. It was about speed and timing.

Karma needed to shift the battle to his advantage, to slow Jake down. But how?

Then it hit him.

He remembered the new spell he had practiced with his Tyrants—**Paralysis**. If he could paralyze Jake, even for just a few seconds, it would be enough to turn the tide.

Without hesitation, Karma summoned his Tyrant, one of the giant ants that he had tamed in the desert. The crowd gasped as the massive creature appeared in a flash of red light, towering over the arena. Jake's eyes widened in surprise, but only for a moment.

"What is that supposed to be?" Jake sneered, his confidence unshaken. "Another slow target?"

But Karma wasn't done. As the Tyrant raised its massive claw, it sent out a pulse of energy—**Paralysis Wave**.

The wave of energy surged through the air, and Jake, caught off guard, tried to dodge, but it was too late. The pulse hit him squarely, and his body froze in place, his muscles locked by the paralyzing force.

"Got you," Karma whispered, feeling a surge of triumph.

With Jake immobilized, Karma wasted no time. He charged forward, his blade gleaming in the sunlight, and slashed at Jake's exposed side. The strike was deep, and blood sprayed from the wound as Jake let out a strangled gasp of pain.

But Karma didn't stop there. He summoned Kuro, his grey fox companion, and commanded it to attack. Kuro darted forward, biting and clawing at Jake's legs, further incapacitating him. The paralysis was wearing off, but Karma had already dealt a significant blow.

Jake, his eyes wide with shock and pain, staggered backward as the paralysis faded. Blood dripped from his side, and his breathing was ragged, but he wasn't finished yet.

"I'll kill you…" Jake hissed, his voice low and dangerous. He was furious now, his cold demeanor replaced by rage.

But Karma didn't flinch. He was done holding back. He had learned from his first battle that this tournament wasn't just about strength or speed—it was about strategy. And now, he had the upper hand.

Jake rushed at Karma one final time, but his movements were slower, his injuries taking their toll. Karma sidestepped the attack with ease, his body moving fluidly with Shiro's synchronization. He spun around, delivering a final strike to Jake's back, sending the rogue crashing to the ground.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Karma stood victorious, his blade dripping with Jake's blood. The rogue lay motionless on the ground, defeated.

"**Winner, Karma!**" the referee declared, raising his hand in triumph.

Karma took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the victory settle in. This fight had been a brutal reminder of the tournament's stakes. Every opponent was dangerous, and every battle was a fight for survival. He glanced down at Jake, who was being carried off by the medics, and wondered if there was more to his story than just the title of **Cursed Child**.

But for now, Karma's focus was on the future. He had won his second match, but the road ahead was long, and the challenges would only grow more difficult from here.

As Karma

walked off the battlefield, the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears, he knew one thing for certain—he was ready for whatever came next.

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**Author's Notes:**

This chapter dives into the intense fight between Karma and Jake, highlighting Jake's tragic past and Karma's growing strategic prowess. Karma's use of the Tyrant's paralysis ability showcases his adaptability in battle, while Jake's backstory adds depth to his character, making him more than just a one-dimensional opponent. The stakes continue to rise as Karma moves forward in the tournament, and the pressure mounts with each victory.