Chapter 16: Rebellion’s First Spark

Feiyu's footsteps echo against the cold stone as he approaches his chamber, every step heavy with frustration. His fists tighten, nails digging into his palms as his anger surges. Just before reaching his gate, he stops abruptly, his breath hitching as he glares across the arena.

Connor, battered and bruised, trudges toward his own chamber. Despite his exhaustion, he carries himself with the quiet confidence of someone who's weathered storms before. Feiyu's teeth grit together, his rage boiling over as he turns his head sharply toward Connor.

But something holds him back.

His clenched fist trembles before he forces his fingers to unfurl. The fiery intensity in his eyes softens, and with a sharp exhale, he releases the tension, steam curling from his lips. Feiyu sighs, lowering his gaze as he steps into his chamber. The heavy gate creaks shut behind him, sealing him in solitude.

Across the arena, Raiden, Kaito, and Zohar exchange uneasy glances from their respective chambers, having witnessed the brief but charged moment between the two combatants.

"Did you see that?" Zohar murmurs, his hands gripping the bars tightly. "That kid's got a storm raging in him."

Raiden nods, leaning casually against the gate, though his tone betrays his unease. "Yeah, he's got more fire than sense. That kind of anger... it's dangerous."

Kaito, always the quieter observer, watches Feiyu disappear into his chamber and then glances at Connor. "Dangerous, sure," he says quietly. "But maybe it's the kind of fire we're going to need."

Inside his chamber, Feiyu sits on the edge of the stone bench, his head buried in his hands. The weight of the fight and his own inadequacy presses heavily on his shoulders. The voice of Sun Wukong echoes in his mind.

"Strength isn't just about power, Feiyu. It's about control. You have the heart of a warrior, but if you let your emotions rule you, you'll destroy yourself before the enemy ever gets the chance."

Feiyu grits his teeth, slamming his fist against the wall. "Control," he mutters bitterly. "Easy for you to say."

Meanwhile, Connor sits in his own chamber, leaning back against the cold wall. Blood seeps through the torn seams of his armor, but he doesn't seem to notice. His thoughts are elsewhere—on the boy, on the fight, and on the words Morrigan whispered to him during the battle.

"This is just the beginning, my dear. The battlefield is not the only place where battles are fought."

Connor smirks faintly, closing his eyes as exhaustion takes over. "Never a dull moment, eh?" he mutters to himself.

Back in the stands, the All Mighty watches the arena with a thoughtful expression, his ever-present grin slightly subdued. Beside him, a shadowy figure leans in closer.

"The seeds of rebellion are beginning to take root," the figure whispers.

The All Mighty chuckles softly, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Good. Let them grow. After all, what is chaos without a spark to light the flame?"

The shadowy figure leans closer, their voice barely above a whisper. "The boy and his sister have arrived in the heavens, currently being treated in the infirmary. However, the infection is beyond the point of healing... but you already knew that, didn't you?"

The All Mighty's grin fades, and a heavy silence falls over the coliseum. Slowly, he turns his head toward the shadowy figure, his piercing gaze cutting through the dim light. His tone, now cold and commanding, echoes with authority.

"Send a message to the Valkyries," he orders. "Take the boy to the chambers beneath my throne room. Lock him up. I've already set my plans for him in motion."

The figure hesitates, their form wavering like smoke in the breeze. "And the sister?"

The All Mighty's expression darkens further, his voice low but menacing. "Tell her..." He pauses, a sinister glint in his eye as he relishes the weight of the words. "Tell her that her brother's body could not withstand the hell poison Lucifer injected into him. Tell her... he has passed away."

The shadow figure bows deeply, fading back into the darkness like a fleeting specter, leaving the All Mighty alone in his grim contemplation.

From his elevated seat overlooking the coliseum, the All Mighty glances downward, his expression unreadable. He murmurs to himself, his words barely audible over the crowd's cheers.

"Every piece must fall into place, no matter the cost. Even the pawns have their purpose."

The infirmary was dimly lit, the warm glow of enchanted lanterns casting soft shadows over rows of beds. Kirashi and Shigenori lay side by side, their faces pale and bodies still. The rhythmic hum of arcane machines monitoring their vitals was the only sound, save for the faint murmurs of Valkyries tending to the wounded.

Two Valkyries entered the room, their gleaming armor catching the faint light. They spoke in hushed tones with those already at work, their voices too low to hear. Kirashi, half-conscious, stirred weakly in her bed. Her eyelids fluttered, and her vision was a blur, shapes shifting like shadows through water.

She squinted, focusing on the movement. The Valkyries glanced her way, their piercing gazes cold and unreadable. Her heart, sluggish from the treatments and exhaustion, quickened as they turned their attention to Shigenori.

Through her hazy sight, Kirashi saw them approach her brother's bed. One of the Valkyries withdrew a vial and injected its contents into Shigenori's IV. Another draped a pristine white sheet over his still form, obscuring his face.

"No... no, please... no," Kirashi whispered, her voice faint and broken. Tears pooled in her blazing purple eyes, blurring her vision further.

The Valkyries moved in silence, their faces emotionless as they wheeled Shigenori's covered body away. Kirashi's trembling hand reached out weakly, but her body betrayed her, too frail to move.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as her voice failed her. "Please... don't..." Her words came as a fragile, choked whisper before her strength gave out, and she drifted back into unconsciousness.