After everyone finished registering their names, the wooden box was filled with hundreds of folded slips. The director stood before it, steady and silent, then reached his hand inside slowly. The crowd were completely quiet focused. His fingers slid through the papers until they closed around two. He pulled them out, unfolded the first, and read it aloud:

“Yukaji Ken.”

The plaza erupted in whispers. Some trembled with excitement, others smirked, while there was many exchanged uneasy looks. That name wasn’t ordinary, it carried enough weight to make even the arrogant swallow hard.

“The Yukaji… are here?”

“I heard he killed men before. Is that true?”

“I’d never want to face him…”

Ken’s cigarette was still between his fingers, he didn’t care about those stares at all. He lifted the cigarette slowly to his lips, took a deep drag, exhaled, then stood and began walking forward with heavy steps.

The director opened the second slip.

“Zerov, from Eastern Valinor.”

All eyes turned to the other side of the plaza. A massive man stepped forward, his dark skin gleaming like iron, his body chiseled as if it’s carved from stone. His eyes glinted with cautious coldness, and  there’s a metal chain hung from his shoulders, holding a black venomous serpent.

Several people in the crowd stepped back instinctively. Someone of them murmured:

“He’s from Eastern Valinor… I heard they’re obsessed with breeding snakes.”

Across from him, Ken dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. The director motioned with his hand:

“To the arena.”

Zerov’s rough voice rumbled as he took a step forward:

“So, you’re Yukaji Ken? They say you killed five hundred of Cirrus’s soldiers.”

He moved closer, a faint grin curling on his lips, his eyes flashing with malice.

“Heh… that doesn’t matters. Because I’ll be killing you now, murderer.”

Akio’s eyes widened. He whispered to himself, stammering:

“What?! That boy… he killed five hundred people… and he looks only 16?!”

Ken said nothing. He drew his single katana in one fluid, in a precise motion, assumed his stance, and charged without hesitation. As he closed the distance, Zerov raised his fist and brought it down sharply on the hilt of Ken’s sword in a perfectly aimed strike.

Ken stared into Zerov’s unflinching face, then released his grip momentarily to pull his sword back, retreating a few measured steps.

Inside him, his thoughts came out cold:

‘That strike wasn’t random… he knew exactly where to hit. This man isn’t just muscular, he’s trained to read his opponent.’

Ken raised his sword again slowly, each motion is testing distance, timing, and intent. He advanced deliberately, his grip was tight, and his mind was recalculating. Zerov was not an ordinary fighter… his body, his composure, even the snake on his shoulder radiated danger. But something else bothered Ken. A hidden sense that this man hadn’t shown his true yet.

‘His first move was too clean. He didn’t try to break my sword, only pressed the hilt… was that a test? Or a warning?’

Ken’s next step was slower, his sword angled downward.

‘His eyes aren’t moving much… he isn’t tracking me, he’s waiting. And his hand is too close to his pocket.’

‘If he moves now, it’ll be instant. Not because he’s fast, but because he’s been preparing from the start.’

Ken blinked once. In that second, Zerov moved… charging forward like a starving beast. His right hand darted from his pocket, holding several thin glinting needles coated in a dark fluid. There was no time to think.

The world seemed to freeze for a single heartbeat. The moment that the hidden card was revealed. Five needles were shot from Zerov’s hand, slicing through the air toward Ken’s chest.

But Ken’s body had already moved before his mind could command it. He dropped low and swept his blade lightly. Three needles struck the katana and ricocheted away; the rest missed, shattering against the stone behind him.

Ken spun half a turn, steadying his stance. Nothing about him changed except his eyes, they became sharper now, as if they had finally seen through his opponent.

Zerov stopped. He stared at Ken with the look that only a true warrior gives another. His expression carried something close to satisfaction.

He raised his hand, revealing more needles between his fingers. His voice was rough:

“These needles are coated with the venom of the ‘Vala’ serpent. It attacks the nerves directly and paralyzes the body within seconds. In Valinor, we use them not to kill, but to see who deserves to live.”

He lowered his arm slightly.

“And you… dodged them as if you already knew. I haven’t seen anyone deflect them that fast in years.”

A faint glow began to pulse from Ken’s katana. A thin line of flame burst from the blade, flickering before stabilizing, as if the sword had taken its first breath. The air around him shimmered, heat rippling across the ground and forcing some spectators to step back unconsciously.

Zerov who was preparing for the next exchange had froze. The snake on his shoulder lifted his head for the first time, sensing something not human.

Ken moved and rushed forward, his flaming sword was searing the air. With his first strike, a curved arc of fire shot from the blade, slicing through the air towards Zerov like lightning.

Zerov retreated, raising his gloved arm to block, but the flame didn’t hold a single form. It split into three smaller fiery blades, each one is attacking from a different angle. He deflected the first, parried the second, but the third grazed his shoulder, burning a line across his leather armor.

“You’re… interesting,” 

Zerov said, while running his fingers over the cracked armor with a strange curiosity, as if Ken’s strike wasn’t a threat but a revelation.

Above him, the serpent wasn’t silent. Its body tensed violently, dark venom dripping from its fangs, tracing down its coiled form until the first drops hit the ground. It could no longer remain a spectator.

Ken didn’t move. His eyes tracked every motion, not just Zerov’s, but the snake’s as it convulsed.

‘That snake doesn’t move on its own… every motion is calculated. Zerov doesn’t just use it as a weapon, it’s a part of his strategy.’

Then… Zerov vanished. No sound. No shadow. Nothing. He disappeared from Ken’s sight, only to reappear right in front of him.

The snake shot out like an arrow, wrapping around Ken’s neck before he could react. It didn’t bite him… it coiled tighter and tighter, crushing his windpipe with terrifying force. Ken’s body jolted. He hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. He tried to raise his sword, but the pain was too sharp to move freely.

Zerov’s punch came next. It was short and precise strike to Ken’s hand. The sword flew, spinning before it hit the ground. Ken fell to one knee while he was gasping. The air vanished. His throat felt filled with stones. The serpent’s grip was unbearable, but he didn’t scream outwardly, only inwardly:

‘Damn it… I didn’t read its motion. I didn’t expect that. Focus. Fire. Bring the fire… now.’

His trembling hand began to gather a faint glow.

Across the field, Akio stood frozen, his eyes were wide in disbelief.

‘He’s… he’s suffocating. That boy’s really suffocating… I have to do something!’

He suddenly darted towards the arena, but a guard’s hand stopped him harshly.

“Stay where you are. Don’t interfere.”

“But he’ll die!!” Akio shouted with a blazing eyes.

The guard didn’t reply. He struck Akio lightly in his chest. Not enough to hurt, but enough to push him back, forcing him to stay far. Akio stood there like a helpless watcher.

Ken collapsed to the ground. His body convulsed, his fingers were clawing at the dirt, desperate for air. The serpent’s coils tightened mercilessly, each second is crushing harder. His veins bulged; his skin turned pale. And the fire… still hadn’t come.