"The Flame That Shouldn’t Burn"

The arena was chaos.

Screams mixed with the beastly roars. Blood splattered across broken ground. The once-proud banners of the nine kingdoms fluttered, soaked in dust, ash, and despair.

One of the cursed beasts, a monstrous reptilian titan with jagged bone-like armor and black molten eyes, lunged—its shadow looming large.

Straight toward Yukato.

He turned at the last second.

Too late.

The beast's claw, longer than a man's body, slashed down—

CRACK—

A blur.

In a flash of light and smoke, Yukato was thrown back.

"Hiroshi?!"

Dust cleared.

Hiroshi stood in front, his sword raised mid-guard. His arm bled. The ground around his feet cracked from the force.

"You idiot!" Hiroshi shouted, breath trembling. "You told me not to help, remember?"

Yukato's eyes widened. "You… saved me?"

Before Hiroshi could reply, something strange happened.

FWWOOOOOOSHH—

His left hand began to tremble—veins pulsing red.

A blazing aura surged from his arm, like molten lava under glass skin. Cracks of crimson lightning danced across his flesh. His sword—ordinary till now—lit up with the same cursed red glow, flames spiraling around it, wailing like spirits unleashed.

"What… the hell?" Hiroshi muttered, trying to let go of the sword—but it clung to him like it was alive.

Yukato stepped back, stunned. "That's… not normal…"

Suddenly, time slowed.

The wind stopped.

All sound was sucked into silence.

A low hum resonated from Hiroshi's body. The red aura intensified, his feet levitating slightly off the ground.

And then—

His eyes turned pitch black.

Not darkness like night—but a void, pure and endless.

Then—

BOOOOM!

A shockwave erupted from Hiroshi, throwing back nearby beasts and participants alike. The arena split, cracks running like lightning bolts across the earth.

A beast roared and lunged.

Hiroshi moved—

—too fast.

One second it was midair. The next—it dropped.

Headless.

Another charged in from the side, its claws ready to tear.

Hiroshi didn't even turn.

Just raised a hand.

The red aura shaped itself into a blade, and with a mere flick—

SLASH—

Three beasts dropped in perfect silence, split clean through.

From the far end of the arena, warriors and spectators stared.

"What is that aura?!"

"Whose power is that?!"

"That's not from any of the nine kingdoms…"

Participants paused mid-fight, frozen in awe… or terror.

Yukato shielded his eyes as the flames burst again from Hiroshi's body. "No, no… this is wrong… this is WAY beyond his limit!"

Hiroshi stepped forward, face blank, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. The cursed sword in his hand was now burning brighter than ever—like it remembered a rage even Hiroshi didn't know he had.

Then—

He raised the sword again.

But this time… at Yukato.

"Hiroshi—?!"

Hiroshi's lips trembled, eyes twitching—but no words came. His breathing became wild, irregular. The black in his eyes was cracking.

Yukato didn't hesitate.

He sprinted to Hiroshi's side, pulled a small red-glass bottle from his belt, uncorked it—and shoved it into his brother's mouth.

"Drink it! Please! Don't lose yourself!!"

For a second, Hiroshi resisted. But then his body collapsed, knees buckling. The red flames flickered once—then shattered into embers.

Thud.

He dropped unconscious.

Yukato caught him, barely.

"Dammit, you dumbass," he whispered, panting. "You were gonna kill yourself…"

A roar came from behind. One of the remaining beasts surged toward them.

Yukato's eyes narrowed.

He placed Hiroshi gently down… then stood.

"I'll hold him… till you wake up."

He drew his blade and faced the incoming beast.

"Come on, monster. Let's dance."

Scene fades out with red embers glowing around Hiroshi's unconscious body—while Yukato, with burning resolve, stands in .Scene: An elevated chamber of stone and fire.

Flames flickered in iron sconces mounted on obsidian pillars. From the high balcony of the judging hall, leaders from the nine kingdoms overlooked the now-blood-soaked arena. Each sat behind a massive carved crest, their expressions unreadable, their robes billowing in the hot wind rolling off the battleground.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

The leader of Kyoto—Lord Saika—broke it.

Saika: "What was that… aura? That boy—Hiroshi Kujin—he was... not himself."

Sikao of Rivenfell leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

Sikao: "He wasn't even using a relic, yet his power distorted the air. That wasn't a technique. That was bloodline awakening, wasn't it?"

All heads turned toward Itshuki Kujin, the leader of Kurosin. Calm as ever. Arms folded.

Itshuki (coldly):

"Whatever happened… was necessary."

The leaders tensed.

Saika: "He could've lost control. Do you even understand what would've happened if Yukato hadn't stopped him?"

Itshuki (flatly):

"If he hadn't stopped him… everything would've ended here. The battlefield. The arena. Maybe the world."

The air went still.

He looked straight ahead—unblinking.

Itshuki (with quiet certainty):

"I saw my elder son's future in that moment. He's no longer meant to walk beside us… but beyond us."

The fire crackled louder in the silence.

---

Scene: Back in the arena…

The mist had not fully cleared, but the battlefield now felt eerily still. The scent of ash and iron floated in the air.

Yukato dragged Hiroshi's unconscious body to a massive stone slab and gently rested him against it. Sweat beaded on his forehead—not from exhaustion, but from fear.

He looked at his brother.

Breathing softly.

Eyes shut.

Still alive.

In his other hand… he clutched a glowing relic.

A symbol of survival.

A relic of hope.

The time was almost up.

---

Announcement:

"Only five minutes remain. Candidates holding a relic must now hold their ground. All others… will be eliminated."

---

[At the northern edge of the arena]

The battlefield was in ruins. Charred earth. Broken weapons. Blood soaked into cracked stone.

Hiroshi stirred slightly. Not fully conscious, but enough to lift his fingers… enough to tighten his grip on the relic.

Suddenly—

A figure appeared.

Stumbling. Wounded. Breathing heavily.

Another participant.

His left arm was shattered. Blood dripped from a deep gash on his thigh. His eyes locked onto Hiroshi, and with a desperate cry, he charged—

But in a blink—

Hiroshi's eyes snapped open. No words. No emotion.

His sword moved like a whisper.

SLASH.

The boy fell.

A deep wound across his chest. But he wasn't dead. Just broken.

Hiroshi turned his back, not sparing even a look.

---

Meanwhile, on the south side of the arena—

Another participant limped toward Yukato.

A boy with amber eyes. He held nothing. No weapon. No relic. His entire body was bruised, shaking, barely holding himself upright.

Participant (pleading):

"Please… I just need a relic. Please, let me—"

Yukato didn't speak.

He walked up to him.

Their eyes met.

And then—

CRACK.

Yukato's blade was already through his throat.

No hesitation.

No mercy.

Blood spilled down onto the stone.

Yukato whispered:

"I'm sorry… but I won't let anyone touch what my brother earned."

He turned.

And time ran out.

---

Announcement:

"TIME OVER!"

"Only 94 participants remain. The mist will now be lifted."

---

A sudden whoooosh of wind.

The entire battlefield cleared.

The once-foggy landscape now revealed its grotesque truth:

Bodies.

Hundreds of them.

Some still twitching. Most… motionless.

Weapons stuck in cracked earth. Blood splattered on sacred stones. Beast carcasses lay shattered and burning.

But among the horror—stood 94 warriors.

Some broken.

Some unscathed.

Some… changed forever.

Hiroshi leaned on his blade, his left hand trembling slightly. His aura was gone. He looked like a shell of what he was ten minutes ago.

Yukato stood beside him, breathing heavy. A silent guardian.

---

From the top balcony, Itshuki rose.

He looked down at his sons—then at the chaos.

He spoke under his breath.

Itshuki:

"So… only those who bleed survive. Good. That means they're ready."

His voice echoed into the silence, unheard by most—

but destined to ring again when Skylands rise.