Stand By Her

Rider stood in the battlefield, exhausted. A group of healthcare workers carried Dargal away for immediate medical attention while others attended to Rider, cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Once they finished, they left, allowing Rider a moment of solitude in the aftermath of the fight.

Aingo arrived shortly after, his eyes scanning Rider's battered and bloody form. Concern etched across his face as he approached. "You need to get to a hospital," Aingo insisted. "They can treat you properly there. The first aid you've received won't be enough. Nobody knows how much you pushed yourself better than me."

Before Aingo could continue, Rider cut him off. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to move, each step slow and painful as he made his way out of the battlefield.

Aingo frowned, irritation creeping into his voice. "Stop being stubborn!"

But Rider didn't stop. "I'm not leaving until I watch Bianca's match," he said, his voice firm despite the fatigue weighing down on him. "It's my turn to support her."

With that, Rider sat down in the pavilion of the arena. Aingo sighed in resignation, realizing there was no changing his mind now, and took a seat beside him.

"If Bianca is in the tournament, doesn't that make her your opponent?" Aingo asked, his expression skeptical. "That means she's been using you from the start."

Rider's response was immediate and filled with conviction. "No. You don't know anything about Bianca. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have won. Even if I can't thank her properly right now, I appreciate what she's done. I'll support her to the end."

Aingo glanced at Rider, studying him for a moment. He wasn't joking. His words weren't empty. Aingo sighed and turned his attention back to the battlefield, where guards were clearing and preparing the arena for the upcoming seven-man standing match.

"You can say whatever you want about her," Aingo muttered, "but you need to face the truth. Let's say, by some miracle, she wins this match—though I doubt it—and somehow goes on to win the whole tournament, which is even more impossible. That would mean you'll have to fight her. She'll be your opponent."

Rider frowned but didn't waver. "I know Bianca will win this match and the tournament. Yeah, if we cross paths, that makes her my opponent momentarily, but it was her decision to join, and I respect that. If we fight, it'll be out of respect."

Before Aingo could respond, the arena's microphone let out a loud squeak. Bianca's father, Azrael, stepped forward, his voice booming through the speakers.

"The battlefield has been cleared and set for our final seven-man standing event. All contenders, please step onto the square concrete platform."

In the contenders' room, fighters stretched and prepared to make their entrance. Bianca grinned, stepping forward confidently, leaving Zack behind. He remained still, gripping his sword carefully, staring at its blade.

"It's time," Zack murmured. "I owe this to you, Mom. And to you, brother. Rest in peace."

With a solemn nod, he strapped his sword to his waist and stepped out of the room onto the concrete war zone, joining the other forty-eight contenders.

Azrael's voice echoed through the arena once more. "To go over the rules: no killing, no matter what. Your goal is to push as many opponents as possible off the platform. If your feet touch the ground, you are eliminated. The last seven contenders still standing on the ring will advance to the next stage. Fighters, get ready—"

The crowd erupted in cheers, eager for what promised to be an intense match.

But before Azrael could finish, his eyes landed on Bianca among the contenders. His breath caught in his throat, and his face paled.

(Isn't that—? No, it can't be. What is Bianca doing here?)

Panic surged through him. (This is bad. I haven't been watching over her like a proper parent. My job distracted me. Should I stop this? She's the only woman here. What is she thinking?)

King Neon, seated nearby, noticed the long pause and the sudden shift in Azrael's expression. His sharp eyes locked onto him. "Azrael," the king called out, his voice firm. "Are you alright?"

Azrael tensed. He wanted to stop the match, wanted to tell the king everything, but he hesitated. His duty and loyalty weighed heavy on him. After a moment's pause, he forced a smile, shaking his head. "Everything's fine," he lied.

Before he could reconsider, he rang the bell, signaling the start of the match. His heart clenched with fear and concern for Bianca, but he swallowed his emotions, masking them from the crowd.

The moment the bell rang, Bell,Zack's father, shouted, "You better win this, Zaaaaack!"

The battle erupted. Forty-eight contenders charged at each other in an all-out brawl, giving it everything they had. The crowd roared as promising fighters emerged, showcasing their strength and skill.

Bianca, however, had a different plan. Rather than dive into the chaos, she opted to stay unnoticed. She maneuvered carefully along the edges of the concrete ring, waiting for the battlefield to thin out before making her move.

From the stands, Rider observed her strategy and laughed in amusement, clapping despite the pain coursing through his body.

Aingo scowled. "Stop being an idiot," he muttered, yanking Rider back into his seat.

Rider pouted but continued watching intently.

Unfortunately for Bianca, her plan crumbled when she accidentally bumped into seven towering figures. Muscular and imposing, they grinned at her with wicked intent as they advanced.

One of them sneered. "Save it, princess. You're done for."

Another chimed in, cracking his knuckles. "We're Dargal faithful disciples. A woman in a war zone is disgusting to us. We'll eliminate you right here and now, in his name."

Bianca's eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. But there was none. Seven men, all intent on eliminating her at once, closed in. She was cornered at the edge of the platform.

Rider shot up from his seat, fists clenched in anger. "That's not fair! Seven against one?!"

Aingo sighed, unfazed by the situation. "Idiot," he muttered. "In a match where only seven can advance, alliances are a necessity. If you want to stand a chance, you team up with strong opponents. This is acceptable… though, admittedly, a coward's way to fight. But there's nothing we can do about it."

Rider slowly sat back down, frustration evident in his expression. He hated feeling powerless.

Azrael, watching from his seat, gritted his teeth, his heart pounding. He could do nothing but silently pray that his daughter would come out of this alive.

And on the battlefield, surrounded and outnumbered, Bianca prepared herself for the fight of her life.