Yano reached the Red base.
The Castore desert lay still, drowned in the pale light of Galeo.

He looked around, whistling toward the dusty ridges.
Silence.

He tore the triangular red flag from its pole, tied it tight around his belt, and tapped the dark surface of his wristband.
The display lit up, showing the updated scores:

Black Team: 1
Red Team: –1
White Team: 0
Blue Team: 0

Yano stared at the numbers for a few seconds, then gripped his wooden axe.
A minute passed.
No sound. No enemies.

“What the hell is Jhoanna thinking?” he muttered.
“She really left the base unguarded?”

A chill ran down his spine.
He didn’t like it.
That girl always had a plan.

He suddenly felt exposed — like the ground itself was watching him.
The silence pressed on him, heavy and suffocating.

“To hell with that bitch and her whole damn team.”
He turned, tightening his grip on the axe.
“Guess I’ll go grab the white flag next.”

And he started running again, northeast.

May, Ancer, Gill, and Luke were advancing south when, through the shimmering haze, three figures emerged from the desert.
They all stopped at once.

Guster, Nefer, and Bulk — the Black team.

Guster spoke first.
“How’s it going, May? You look a little behind on points.”

May shot him a sharp glare.
“Says the guy who’s never ahead.”

Guster smirked.
“We Blacks are already at one point. You’re still at zero.
Gozen and Yano are tearing through the field, so our score can only rise.
Has the miserable white Finde already abandoned the tournament?”

May raised an eyebrow.
“Since when did you get so funny, Guster?”

He shrugged.
“Since I started winning.
Listen — we came up from the south, you came down from the north, and neither of us ran into the Blues.
Those must all be holed up to the east, at their base point.
So here’s my idea: we team up. Seven of us against eight of them.
We conquer their base point then we fight among ourselves for their flag. Deal?”

May said nothing.
Behind him, his teammates gathered close, whispering.

Ancer murmured,
“I don’t like it, May. They’ll stab us in the back.”

Luke replied quietly,
“Maybe not. Gozen and Yano probably ditched them. They’re on their own.
A temporary alliance works for both sides.”

Gill frowned.
“We don’t know if he’s telling the truth. If Gozen and Yano really are acting solo, Luke might be right.
But if they’re not... Ancer might be.”

“What do you think, May?” Ancer asked.

May gripped the hilt of his blade.
“We either accept or fight them here.
They can waste time — they’ve Gozen and Yano running wild.
We can’t. If we don’t score, our team will remain at zero points.”

Gill nodded.
“Agreed. Let’s accept. But we stay close. Never let them behind us.”

Guster watched them with a mocking grin.
“Done whispering, boys? What’s the verdict, May?”

Ancer hissed under his breath,
“It’s because we’re stronger that we should hit them now.
How long would it take to wipe them out?”

May thought for a moment.
“Guster and Bulk are tough. Nefer’s not weak either.
We’d win — but at what cost?
If we get injured here, we’re finished. The White team’s done.”

Luke spoke up first.
“I say we accept.”

Gill nodded.
“Same.”

May sighed.
“Then it’s settled. Majority wins.”

He stepped forward, raising his voice.
“Hey, Guster! We’re in. But we move separately — side by side, within sight.
If we smell a trick, the deal’s off. Clear?”

“Crystal.”
Guster tilted his head, grinning.

He whispered to himself,
“Poor fool.”

The grin stretched wider, sharp as a blade.

Yano had been running for nearly fifteen minutes when he spotted the White base in the distance.
He smiled.
Three figures crouched near the flag.

Katrin. Solus. Winny.

Poor fools. He thought.

May had taken the best with him.
Perfect.

About forty minutes had passed since the tournament began.
And he was about to claim his second flag.

The three hadn’t even noticed him.
Katrin was drawing something in the sand with a stick while the other two watched, bent over.

Idiots.
I could walk right up to that flag and they’d never notice.

He slowed his pace.
Approached calmly, with the grin of a man already savoring victory.

“Well, well. I thought I’d at least have to sweat a little fighting May.
But it looks like you won’t even make for a decent warm-up.”

The three turned at once, eyes wide.
They jumped to their feet, defensive stance ready.

“So, did May take four of you and leave just three behind?
Or has the idiot Finde already retired?”

Solus replied firmly,
“That’s none of your business, Yano.
If you think you can take that flag easily, you’re dead wrong.”

Yano smiled, the axe swinging lazily in his hands.
“Good.
Let’s see how much fun you can give me, then.”

Sand swirled around him as the wind carried away the echo of his voice.

Above them, a drone glowed with reflected light.
The battle was about to begin.

Katrin, Solus, and Winny formed a triangle around Yano.

The wind of Castore whispered through the rocks.
Silence.

Then Winny lunged forward, his sword aimed at Yano’s head.
Yano twisted his body, dodging with fluid precision and, in the same motion, kicked Winny behind the knee.
As he spun the axe sliced past Katrin’s face, missing by inches. She ducked just in time.

Damn it, he’s too fast.
He dodged, attacked, and cleared his blind spot in a single move. She thought.

Solus charged next.
He swung his pike over his head and brought it down from the side, aiming at Yano’s face.
Yano bent low, letting the strike cut the air just above his hair.

Winny was already back on his feet.
The two coordinated: Solus struck high, Winny aimed low.

He can’t duck or jump now. He’s done for, Winny thought.

Yano jumped.
His body arched horizontally in midair.
Both strikes missed — one above, one below.

As he spun, he kicked Winny in the jaw and slashed Solus across the forehead with the axe.

Both fell to the ground.

Katrin froze, her heart pounding.
We don’t stand a chance... It’s not just strength or speed. It’s instinct.
He always knows exactly where to be.

Despair crawled up her legs, into her trembling hands.

Solus touched his forehead — his fingers came away red.
The blood was pouring down, covering his eyes.

Yano turned his back on him and moved toward Winny, who was kneeling and holding his mouth in pain.

Katrin took advantage of his distraction.
She darted forward. A high thrust, aimed at the back of his neck.
The wooden blade nearly reached him, but Yano tilted his head to the side — the attack brushed past his ear.

With his left hand he grabbed her sword, twisted his torso, and slammed an elbow into her stomach.
The air burst from her lungs.
She crumpled, gasping.

Damn it... he provoked me on purpose.
He predicted every move.

Yano stepped closer.
He was about to kick her in the face when he dodged sideways, avoiding Solus’s pike.

Winny was on his feet again.
His jaw was clenched, eyes shining with pain.

Yano looked at them with fake pity.
“Give up, kids.
You, Solus — you can barely see through the blood.
And you, Winny — that jaw’s shattered.
It's hard to fight with all that pain.
There’s no point continuing.”

They didn’t move.
They raised their weapons again and charged.

Winny swung his sword.
Yano bent his torso back 90 degrees to dodge.

He bent too far! Solus thought, bringing his pike down from top to bottom, at the height of Yano's throat.
But Yano drove his axe into the sand and used it as a pivot, propelling himself upright.
The staff struck the ground, trembling in Solus’s hands.

Yano punched him full in the face.
Solus staggered back.

Winny tried to flank him, but without even turning, Yano swung the axe backward and struck him on the temple.

Both dropped again.
Winny lost consciousness. Solus stayed down, his face a mask of blood.

Katrin ran to him.
“He broke my nose!” Solus shouted, spitting blood.

Yano smiled.
“Give it up, boys. Don’t make me get serious.”

Solus rose again, spitting a mix of blood and spit onto the sand.

Both charged once more.

Solus thrust toward Yano’s left shoulder.
Katrin moved to strike from the right, predicting where he’d dodge.

But Yano grabbed the end of Solus’s pike, spun his torso, and used it to parry Katrin’s slash.
In the same instant, he raised his right arm and struck Katrin under the chin with the axe.
Then he lunged forward and drove his knee into Solus’s stomach.

Both fell onto Castore’s dusty ground — Katrin clutching her chin, Solus gasping for air.

“Good boy. Breathe. Breathe... it’ll pass soon,” Yano said, stepping toward Solus.

He raised the axe high, ready to give him the coup de grace — when something flickered at the edge of his vision.

A powerful punch crashed into the right side of his head.
He stumbled, tripped, and hit the ground.
His vision blurred.

What the hell was that?

Instinct forced him to get up. With great difficulty he managed it.
He rubbed his temple as his sight cleared.

His eyes widened.
The pathetic white - Finde - was helping Katrin stand.

“Don’t tell me it was YOU who hit me,” Yano said.

Finde steadied Katrin, and looked at him with ironic compassion.
“Who else, genius? See anyone else around?”

......

End of Part III
(Continues in Episode 10 — The Tournament, Part IV)