Chapter 123

The crowd roared as the announcer's voice echoed across the grand coliseum. The tournament had reached its final rounds, and this was a match that had everyone on edge. Two warriors, both lethal in their own right, stepped into the circular arena. The stone floor was marked with scars of previous battles, and the scent of steel and sweat lingered in the air.

On one side stood Kamisato Ayato, Dressed in his refined yet battle-ready attire, his hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His expression remained composed, his pale blue eyes locked onto his opponent with the patience of a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. His stance was balanced, almost casual, but his reputation spoke otherwise—fluid, deadly, and always in control.

Opposite him stood Sampo Koski, a trickster and rogue known for his unpredictable fighting style. His smirk carried the weight of mischief, his loose-fitting coat flaring slightly as he adjusted his grip on the daggers concealed within his sleeves. He was a wildcard, someone who never fought fair but always fought smart.

The announcer raised a hand. "Let the battle begin!"

Sampo moved first, vanishing in a blur. His speed was undeniable, and in an instant, a barrage of knives sailed toward Ayato. The Yashiro Commissioner barely tilted his head, his sword flashing in a precise arc. Each knife was deflected, their momentum nullified as they clattered to the ground harmlessly.

"So serious, huh?" Sampo chuckled, already behind Ayato, his dagger lunging for the noble's back.

Ayato sidestepped just in time, his blade flicking upward in a controlled slash. Sampo twisted midair, narrowly avoiding a lethal cut. His foot landed on Ayato's shoulder for leverage, propelling himself backward to regain distance. The moment his feet touched the ground, smoke bombs erupted around him, shrouding the battlefield in thick mist.

Ayato's expression didn't waver. He closed his eyes for a brief second before vanishing into a blur himself, weaving through the smoke with swift, deliberate movements. His blade sliced through the mist, seeking its target with unerring precision.

A clash of steel rang out as Sampo intercepted a strike with one of his daggers, but Ayato was relentless. His sword was like water, flowing seamlessly from one attack to the next, each stroke aimed to push Sampo further into a corner. The rogue dodged and deflected as best as he could, but Ayato's strikes carried an elegance that was hard to counter.

Sampo, realizing a direct clash would be his downfall, resorted to his specialty—trickery. With a flick of his wrist, another smoke bomb exploded at his feet, but this time, multiple shadowy illusions of him darted in different directions.

Ayato's eyes sharpened. He pivoted gracefully, slicing through an illusion with a clean stroke, but another Sampo lunged from his blind spot. The rogue's dagger grazed Ayato's arm, drawing first blood.

"Hah, gotcha!" Sampo grinned, but his victory was short-lived.

Ayato's figure flickered before he suddenly reappeared beside Sampo, the speed of his Iaijutsu technique catching the rogue completely off guard. In one fluid motion, Ayato struck, his blade cutting deep into Sampo's side. The rogue gasped, staggering backward as crimson stained his coat.

"You rely too much on deception," Ayato murmured, his tone calm but edged with finality.

Sampo grit his teeth, knowing he had seconds before Ayato capitalized on the injury. With a desperate move, he threw a final set of knives at his opponent and surged forward with his last reserves of speed.

"You'll never touch me with those." 

Ayato exhaled softly, his blade flashing in a blur. The knives never reached him. Instead, Sampo felt the cold kiss of steel against his throat, stopping just short of delivering a finishing blow.

Silence fell over the coliseum.

Sampo chuckled weakly. "Well… guess that means I lose, huh?"

Ayato withdrew his sword, flicking the blood from the blade before sheathing it. "You fought well."

The announcer's voice boomed. "Winner—Kamisato Ayato!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, but Ayato simply inclined his head and walked away, his victory secured, his honor intact.

In the stands, Kamisato Ayaka watched her brother's triumph with a mix of emotions. Pride swelled in her chest, yet a lingering conflict clouded her thoughts. She knew Ayato's strength better than anyone, but would she truly prepared for what would come if she had to fight him in the Top 8?

"Cheer up, Ayaka!," March 7th chimed in, nudging Ayaka's arm. "Your brother won! That's worth celebrating, right?"

Ayaka offered a soft smile. "Yes, of course. I just…" She hesitated before shaking her head. "Never mind."

Yuri leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're conflicted. It's natural. Ayato's somebody who's fierce and strong and both of you are now in that Top 8."

"I bet both of you are going to do so well!" March 7th added on with a smile.

"Still," Firefly added, her voice contemplative, "I get what Ayaka means. Victory always has a price. I think the Top 8 is going to be especially rough for everyone involved.

"It would be easy for me If I was in there, I'm just saying." Kevin laughed.

March 7th pouted in response. "Hey! you know I'm involved don't you!"

"I didn't mean it like that I swear!" Kevin said in a hurry.

"You're reminding me that I need to scold Clara after all this...I don't even know how she got in...and to this point as well..." Yuri scratched his head in disbelief.

Firefly spoke up shortly thereafter. "Ayato fought clean. I'm really impressed with him and I think he showcased some truly interesting power here..."

Ayaka nodded, exhaling softly. "You're right. He fought honorably, as he always does."

March grinned. "Then it's settled! Time to celebrate! Come on, let's find some food stalls before the next match starts."

With that, the group rose from their seats, the weight in Ayaka's chest lifting ever so slightly.

Little did they know...The next match coming up was going to be an absolute blast...