THE FIRST MATCH

The Titan Coliseum roared with anticipation as the first match of the Inter-School Martial Contest was announced. Holographic banners displayed the competitors' names in bright, shifting letters:

ASH ATSUYUKI (Nova Helix Academy) vs. RENSHIRO TAKEDA (Daichi Dojo)

The crowd murmured with interest. It was a clash of styles—modern adaptive combat versus the refined mastery of traditional swordsmanship. Renshiro Takeda was a name known to purists, a prodigy of classical kenjutsu. In contrast, Ash was a rising force, a wildcard who had carved his own brutal path through battle.

As Ash stepped into the arena, the energy of the crowd surged around him. The coliseum was an open battleground, the floor lined with digital markers to simulate different environments as the tournament progressed. Today, it was a traditional stone courtyard—perhaps a nod to Takeda's discipline.

Across from him, Renshiro stood calmly. He was clad in a simple but elegant dueling uniform, his katana resting lightly in one hand. His posture was flawless, every muscle poised in readiness.

No cybernetic augments. No neural enhancements. Just a blade, centuries of tradition, and a lethal mastery of the art.

Ash met his gaze and smirked. "They're really trying to test me, huh?"

Renshiro inclined his head slightly. "They are. And I will not hold back."

A gong sounded. The match had begun.

A Duel of Masters

Renshiro moved first.

His opening strike was lightning-fast, his katana flashing through the air in a perfect arc. Ash barely had time to react, twisting just enough to let the blade whistle past his ribs. He countered immediately, driving forward with a brutal, close-quarters strike—only to find Renshiro already gone.

The swordsman flowed like water, stepping just outside Ash's range with effortless precision. His movements were terrifyingly efficient—no wasted energy, no unnecessary force, only perfection.

Ash grinned, exhilarated. "You're good."

"And you're reckless," Renshiro replied, his blade slicing forward in a series of rapid cuts. Ash barely dodged the first two before raising his own weapon to deflect the third. The force behind the impact sent a numbing vibration through his arms.

The crowd was on edge—Ash was losing ground.

Adapt or Fall

Kaito watched from the Nova Helix viewing box, arms crossed. "He's testing Ash. Trying to force him into a battle of precision."

Kenshiko's voice crackled through his earpiece. "And Ash doesn't fight precision fights."

"No," Kaito murmured, watching as Ash adjusted his stance. "He fights wars."

On the battlefield below, Ash let out a slow breath.

Fine. If Renshiro was going to fight like a textbook warrior—

Ash would break the textbook.

The next time Renshiro struck, Ash didn't retreat. He stepped into the attack, catching the swordsman off guard. Instead of countering with a blade, Ash twisted his body, slamming his elbow into Renshiro's ribs. The strike landed hard, forcing the swordsman to stagger back.

A ripple went through the crowd. Ash was shifting the fight.

He pressed forward, overwhelming Renshiro with unorthodox angles, raw aggression, and street-lethal efficiency. The elegant duel was gone. This was a battle of survival.

Renshiro's footwork faltered for the first time.

Ash saw the opening.

A final strike—fast, decisive. His blade lashed out in a controlled arc, stopping just before Renshiro's throat.

Silence.

Then—the match gong rang. Victory: Ash Atsuyuki.

The crowd erupted in cheers and disbelief. The wild card had won.

Renshiro exhaled, stepping back. His face was calm, but his eyes gleamed with something close to admiration. "Impressive. You fight without rules."

Ash smirked. "Rules don't win wars."

Renshiro nodded once, then turned and left the arena. The match was over—but the tournament was only beginning.

Ash turned his gaze to the tournament brackets flashing overhead. His next opponent was already waiting.

And the real battles were yet to come.