The Shadow Of The Tournament, Pt. 1

Days passed, and the time for the Warrior's Tournament drew near. Raizen's streets buzzed with anticipation, and fighters from all corners of the region flooded into the city, each one seeking glory and the chance to be named a Champion. For Kiato, it was more than just a title—it was his only way forward.

Kiato had pushed himself harder in training than ever before, honing his skills under the guidance of Kiyomi. But no matter how much he improved, the uncertainty of the power within him remained. It was as though the chaos inside him was waiting—waiting for the right moment to reveal its full potential.

In the bustling marketplace, Kiato and his party walked together, their eyes scanning the crowd. Vendors shouted, children ran through the streets, and the air was thick with the scent of food and the chatter of competitors sizing each other up, save for most eyes on him - despite the lively atmosphere.

Kiyomi was the first to speak. "The city's different now."

Velis's smirk was faint, his eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced wariness. "Everyone's here for something. Some for glory, some for power… and some for more sinister reasons."

Juro, who had been walking quietly behind them, finally spoke, his voice low. "Keep your guard up. There are more eyes on you than just the other competitors."

Kiato nodded, trying to push aside the growing tension in his chest.

As they passed through the crowded market, a hush fell over the crowd. Kiato glanced around, noticing a group of men approaching, their robes adorned with symbols he recognized from the tournament registration.

One of them, a tall man with a commanding presence, stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Kiato. "You're Nakamura, aren't you? The one from the trials."

Kiato tensed, nodding. "Yeah, that's me."

The man's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. "You've made quite the impression. The state sponsors have been watching you closely. But don't get too comfortable—there are those who think you're not ready to be crowned champion."

Before Kiato could respond, the man turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving an uneasy silence behind.

Juro stepped closer to Kiato, his voice quiet but firm. "They're testing you. Don't let it get to you."

Kiato swallowed hard, nodding. "I won't."

Meanwhile, deep beneath the city, the remnants of the cult gathered in the shadows. Their numbers had dwindled after the defeat of Malakai, but they were far from finished.

In the dimly lit chamber, the cultists knelt in reverence before a robed figure standing at the center of the room. Her voice echoed through the chamber, calm and steady, but filled with the weight of power.

"The chance is close. The time for waiting is over."

The cultists murmured in agreement, their voices filled with fanaticism.

"I made the mistake of underestimating the boy and his party. But we will not make the same mistake. When the Championship begins, we will strike. The chaos spirit within him will be ours, and with it, the power to awaken the Phoenix."

Lady Rei pulled back the stagnant hood of her dark robe, revealing a form of herself recognizable, yet different. She raised a hand, silencing the murmurs instantly. "We will not fail."

The sun hung low in the sky as Kiato pushed himself through another grueling sparring session. His muscles burned with exertion, but he didn't stop. The Warrior's Tournament was days away, and the pressure weighed heavily on him. As Kiyomi watched from the sidelines, her sharp eyes catching every flaw, Kiato swung his sword with increasing frustration. His strikes were precise, but he could feel the power slipping away, just out of reach.

"Again," Kiyomi called, her tone firm.

Kiato gritted his teeth and swung his blade, his mana surging with the effort. But no matter how hard he tried, there was something missing—something untapped.

"You're still holding back," Kiyomi said, stepping closer. "You're not reaching for your full potential."

Kiato wiped the sweat from his brow, panting heavily. "I don't know how. It's like the power's there, but I can't grab it."

Kiyomi's gaze narrowed as she studied him. "Maybe you're thinking about it the wrong way. You're trying to force it into a box. BUT Your power is different. Find a way to make it you own."

Kiato frowned, frustration gnawing at him. He knew she was right. His power wasn't like the others he had seen—there was something more fluid about it, something he hadn't figured out yet. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as he stared at the open space in front of him, an idea slowly forming.

"What if…" Kiato muttered to himself, his voice barely audible.

Kiyomi raised an eyebrow, watching him closely. "What if what?"

Kiato didn't answer right away. Instead, he raised his sword again, focusing not on the target in front of him, but on the air itself. He let his mana flow through him, his mind reaching out for the power that had been slipping through his fingers. As he swung his blade, he aimed not to strike the ground, but the very space around him.

The sword sliced through the air, and Kiato felt it—a shift, a subtle change as his blade left an invisible trail. He paused, his heart racing. The air around him shimmered briefly, though nothing seemed to happen at first.

"What are you—" Kiyomi began, but before she could finish, Kiato flicked his hand, his mana surging outward.

In an instant, the space where Kiato had struck exploded with force, the invisible slash releasing its stored energy and striking the area with precision. The ground before them cracked as if hit by an unseen blade.

Kiyomi's eyes widened. "What was that?"

Kiato's breath caught in his throat. "I… It was my fathers technique. He tried teaching me, but I could never get it right until now. Basically, I just sliced the air, and it stored the attack. I can control where it strikes after."

Kiyomi stepped closer, her expression both impressed and curious. "That's… new."

Kiato swung his sword again, this time more deliberately. Another invisible slash formed, hanging in the air, waiting for his command. He let it linger for a moment before releasing it, the stored energy striking a distant tree with a clean, invisible blow.

A slow smile crept across Kiyomi's face. "That's more like it."

Kiyomi's heart pounded in her chest, the excitement of the discovery fueling her. He had found it—something that was uniquely his. The ability to store invisible strikes and control their release was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Plus, the entity living deep within him didn't fight against it. Progress was sweat.

"It's not just raw power," Kiyomi said thoughtfully. "It's control. You can store your attacks, wait for the right moment, and strike where they least expect it."

Kiato nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "But I'll need to practice more. I don't have full control over it yet."

Kiyomi's gaze was sharp, but there was a glimmer of approval in her eyes. "That's what training is for. But this could be the edge you need in the tournament."

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Kiato continued to practice his new ability, slicing the air and storing invisible strikes with growing confidence. Each time, he could feel his control improving, his connection to his mana deepening. But there was still a part of him that felt uncertain, like the chaos spirit was watching, waiting.

Juro and Velis stood nearby, observing quietly. Juro, arms crossed, seemed more contemplative than usual, while Velis watched with his usual unreadable expression.

"He's getting stronger," Juro said, his voice low. "But there's still a lot he doesn't understand."

Velis nodded, his gaze distant. "He'll learn. One way or another."

Juro's eyes flicked to Velis, suspicion still simmering beneath the surface. What is Velis's real intentions? He could've killed me when we fought, but… he didn't. None of it makes sense.

Velis's smirk returned, almost as if he read Juro's thoughts. "But you're right, Juro. The boy is strong."

The city of Raizen had taken on an electric energy. Banners flew high, crowds gathered, and the air buzzed with excitement as warriors and spectators from all over the region flooded into the streets. The time for the Warrior's Tournament had come, and with it, the weight of everything Kiato had been preparing for.

But as the city celebrated, Kiato's mind was elsewhere. He stood at the edge of the training grounds, staring at his reflection in the blade of his sword. His new ability—the power to store and release invisible strikes—was something that set him apart, but it also filled him with unease. Every time he reached for it, he could feel the chaos spirit stirring inside him, watching, waiting. What did it want from him? And could he truly control it?

Kiyomi, ever vigilant, stepped up beside him, her arms crossed. "You're ready."

Kiato glanced at her, his brow furrowed. "What if I'm not?"

Kiyomi's gaze was steady, unwavering. "You are. This ability you've discovered—it's something no one else has. But it's not just about power. It's about how you use it. The tournament isn't just about who can hit the hardest. It's about strategy, patience, and control."

Kiato nodded, but the doubt still gnawed at him. "What if the chaos spirit—what if it takes over?"

Kiyomi's expression softened slightly. "You're not alone in this. Juro, Velis, and I—we'll be there. But in the end, you have to trust yourself. The spirit doesn't control you. You control it."

Her words hung in the air, and Kiato knew she was right. But trust himself was easier said than done.

For Kiato, the tournament still felt far out of reach. He had been training relentlessly, honing his skills and discovering his new ability, but one obstacle stood in his way: sponsorship.

The rules were clear—no fighter could enter the tournament without the backing of one of the twelve state sponsors. And sponsorship required not only skill, but connections, reputation, and in most cases, a hefty sum of money. Kiato had none of those.

The gang walked through the crowded market, their eyes scanning the banners and merchant stalls filled with eager fighters and merchants looking to profit from the upcoming event. Kiato's heart sank as he watched other competitors proudly displaying their sponsor's crests on their uniforms. He had trained for this moment, but without a sponsor, his name would never even reach the tournament roster.

A few crowded stalls later, Kiato found himself standing before a makeshift arena in the heart of Raizen's busy marketplace. The ring was used by warriors seeking to prove their worth before the sponsors. It wasn't official, but word spread fast, and Kiato knew that if he could catch the eye of a sponsor here, his chances of entering the tournament would skyrocket.

Kiyomi gave him a nod of encouragement. "This is your chance. Show them what you've got."

Kiato stood with Juro, Kiyomi, and Velis near the competitor's entrance, his heart pounding in his chest. His name hadn't been called yet, but he could feel the eyes of the crowd on him. Rumors of his potential had spread, and the other competitors had already begun sizing him up.

Velis smirked, leaning against the wall. "No pressure."

Kiato shot him a glare, but Velis simply shrugged, unbothered by the tension in the air.

Before anyone could respond, the announcer's voice rang out across the arena, calling the next set of competitors to the ring. Kiato's name echoed through the air, and he felt his pulse quicken.

"It's time," Kiyomi said, her voice firm.

Taking a deep breath, Kiato stepped into the ring. His opponent was already waiting—a towering warrior with bulging muscles and a massive warhammer resting on his shoulder. The man looked down at Kiato, sneering. "You think you can beat me, kid? You're in over your head."

Kiato's heart raced, but he held his ground. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not now. The crowd gathered around the ring, eager to see the young fighter prove himself—or fail.