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magnagaruzenmon · 1 month ago

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Fit For A King

A little follow up to a day to remember

Breaking the Mirror

The training hall echoed with the steady sound of Tiberius’s strikes against a wooden practice dummy. Sweat dripped from his brow as he moved with precision, alternating between slashes, strikes, and spinning flourishes with his naginata in its shortened blade form. His focus was absolute, his breathing steady.

That focus shattered the moment the doors burst open, and an energetic voice rang out.

“Tiberius, the man of the hour!”

Tiberius froze mid-swing, his head snapping toward the intruder. There she was, Ive’s Yujin, striding into the training hall like she owned the place. She was all confident and bright, her athletic build and infectious smile giving her an air of effortless charm.

“What the—” Tiberius muttered, lowering his weapon.

Yujin pointed a finger at him, grinning like she’d just caught him doing something embarrassing. “You’re really working up a sweat, huh? Training for Lucion, I bet. Mind if I watch? Or, better yet, join in?”

Tiberius blinked, thrown by her sudden appearance. “Uh… do I have a choice?”

“Nope!” she replied cheerily, plopping down onto a nearby bench without waiting for an invitation.

Tiberius sighed, wiping his brow with a towel. “Alright, what’s the deal? Did someone send you here?”

Yujin put on her best innocent face. “Me? Sent? Nah, I just thought you might want some company. You’ve got that lone wolf vibe going on, and trust me, it’s overrated.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

She laughed, leaning forward with her chin in her hand. “Fine, fine. Maybe I was encouraged to swing by. But can you blame them? You’ve been taking this whole ‘tournament’ thing way too seriously. Ever heard of balance, Tiberius?”

Tiberius shook his head, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about balance.”

Yujin gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? I am the epitome of balance. Watch this.” She stood and immediately attempted a high kick, but the motion sent her tumbling backward into a roll. She sprang up as if nothing happened, brushing herself off with a grin. “See? Perfect recovery. Balance.”

Tiberius couldn’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “Okay, I’ll give you points for effort.”

“Darn right you will,” she said, plopping back down. “But seriously, you need to lighten up. You’re going to burn yourself out before the fight even starts.”

Tiberius glanced at his weapon, twirling it absentmindedly. “I don’t have time to lighten up. Lucion isn’t someone I can just mess around with.”

“Maybe not,” Yujin said, her voice softening slightly. “But you don’t have to take the whole world on your shoulders either. You’ve got people rooting for you, you know. You’re not alone in this.”

The sincerity in her tone caught Tiberius off guard. He looked at her, expecting to see the same teasing expression, but there was warmth in her gaze.

He sighed, setting his naginata down. “Fine. Let’s say I take a break. What exactly do you suggest?”

Yujin’s grin returned in full force. “Glad you asked. First, we eat. You can’t fight on an empty stomach. Then, we hang out. I’ll even let you teach me how to use that fancy weapon of yours. And who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

Tiberius arched an eyebrow. “Surprise me how?”

She winked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He groaned, but there was no malice in it. “Alright, fine. Just try not to trip over yourself too much.”

“Deal,” Yujin said, hopping to her feet. She extended a hand toward him. “Come on, let’s go grab something good.”

As Tiberius reluctantly followed her out of the training hall, he realized that Yujin’s presence, as overwhelming as it was, had managed to lift a weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. Maybe, just maybe, this unexpected distraction wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Tiberius and Yujin left the training hall and wandered into town, Yujin leading the way like she’d lived there her whole life. She chattered nonstop, pointing out little details of the marketplace and cheerfully engaging with vendors as if she were on a sightseeing trip.

Tiberius trailed behind, his weapon tucked securely in its sheath. “Do you always talk this much?” he asked, feigning irritation.

“Only when I’m trying to drag a stick-in-the-mud like you out of their funk,” Yujin teased. “Come on, live a little!” She darted toward a food stall and returned holding two steaming skewers of grilled meat. “Here, eat.”

Tiberius accepted the skewer, eyeing it suspiciously before taking a bite. It was surprisingly good, and Yujin’s smug expression made him roll his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is all it takes to get you smiling,” she said, laughing.

“I’m not smiling,” Tiberius countered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

“Sure, sure,” she said, dragging him toward a cluster of small restaurants. “Let’s find a spot to sit. This next part of the ‘Tiberius Rehab Plan’ involves a proper meal.”

As they walked into a cozy pizzeria, the warm smell of melted cheese and baked dough greeted them. Yujin didn’t wait for Tiberius’s opinion and ordered a large pepperoni pizza for the two of them.

“Pepperoni?” Tiberius asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s classic,” she replied. “Trust me, you’ll love it. Besides, you look like you could use carbs.”

As they waited for their order, the door jingled open, and Chowon walked in. She froze when she spotted them, her gaze flicking between Tiberius and Yujin.

“Chowon?” Tiberius said, surprised.

“Hey, uh… hi,” Chowon said, hesitating by the door. Her eyes lingered on Yujin, who was grinning as if she’d just found a new playmate.

“Oh, is this your girlfriend?” Yujin asked, leaning toward Tiberius with a mischievous smirk.

Tiberius sputtered, but Chowon recovered first. “No! I mean, we’re friends. Just friends.”

“Good,” Yujin said, standing and grabbing Chowon’s hand. “Then you can join us. I can’t be the only one dragging this guy out of his shell.”

Chowon hesitated, unsure how to react to Yujin’s boldness. But Yujin didn’t give her a chance to decline, pulling her into the booth.

“Yujin,” Tiberius said, rubbing his temples. “Can you not overwhelm everyone you meet?”

“Overwhelm? Please, I’m just being friendly,” Yujin said, handing Chowon a menu. “So, what’s your favorite pizza topping?”

Chowon blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… mushrooms?”

“Mushrooms?” Yujin wrinkled her nose in mock horror. “Alright, we’ll order another pizza for you. You’re not touching my pepperoni masterpiece.”

Despite herself, Chowon chuckled. Her usual reserved nature started to slip as Yujin’s relentless energy pulled her into the conversation. Within minutes, the trio was laughing over the most ridiculous topics—Yujin’s failed attempts at learning to cook, Chowon’s stories from the hostel, and Tiberius’s deadpan reactions to their antics.

When the pizzas arrived, the table fell quiet as they devoured the food. Yujin, unsurprisingly, was the loudest, praising the chef between bites. Chowon found herself smiling more than she had in days, and Tiberius, despite his initial reluctance, seemed to relax in their company.

As they finished their meal, Yujin leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, new plan. After Tiberius beats Lucion, the three of us celebrate with karaoke. Chowon, you’re coming, right?”

Chowon hesitated, but Yujin nudged her with an encouraging smile.

“Sure,” Chowon said softly, glancing at Tiberius. “As long as Tiberius agrees.”

Tiberius sighed, a small but genuine smile breaking through. “Fine. But only if you two stop ganging up on me.”

“No promises,” Yujin said with a laugh.

Chowon laughed, too, surprising herself at how easily Yujin had drawn her out of her shell. Maybe this loud, overbearing girl wasn’t so bad after all.

As the trio left the pizzeria, walking together under the soft glow of streetlights, Chowon felt lighter, her worries about Tiberius’s next fight momentarily forgotten. And Tiberius, for the first time in a while, felt like he wasn’t facing the tournament alone.

Later that night, Yujin burst into her apartment, still buzzing with energy from her impromptu pizza outing. She kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch, not noticing Gaeul and Wonyoung seated at the dining table, sipping tea and waiting expectantly.

“There you are,” Wonyoung said, her sharp gaze fixed on Yujin. “Took you long enough. How’d it go?”

Yujin flopped into a chair with dramatic flair, her grin nearly splitting her face. “Oh my gosh, you won’t believe the day I had!”

Gaeul arched an eyebrow. “We’re waiting.”

“Well,” Yujin began, leaning forward conspiratorially, “first of all, Tiberius is so much cooler than I thought. I mean, he’s still got that grumpy vibe going on, but once you get past the walls? He’s actually really funny in a dry, sarcastic kind of way. And Chowon showed up—she’s so sweet, by the way—and the three of us had the best time!”

Wonyoung and Gaeul exchanged a quick glance, their expressions neutral despite the flicker of interest in their eyes.

“We got pizza, talked about the tournament, joked around—it was honestly the most fun I’ve had in weeks. And Chowon? Oh, I think she might secretly be as competitive as Tiberius. She just hides it better.”

“Interesting,” Gaeul said, resting her chin on her hand. “So… what’s your take on Tiberius? Think he’s distracted?”

Yujin tilted her head, considering the question. “Hmm… I wouldn’t say he’s distracted. But he’s definitely opening up a bit. I mean, the guy’s been under a lot of pressure. Maybe having people to talk to is good for him?”

“Good for him,” Wonyoung repeated, her voice laced with a subtle sarcasm. “Or good for us?”

Yujin laughed. “Oh, come on, you two! You’re acting like I went there to sabotage him or something.”

Gaeul gave a tight-lipped smile. “Of course not.”

“Anyway, I think Tiberius’s gonna be just fine,” Yujin continued, oblivious to the calculated expressions of her roommates. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes down Lucion. The guy’s got serious potential. And Chowon? She’s totally his secret weapon. I swear, she’s got this calming effect on him.”

Wonyoung sipped her tea thoughtfully, hiding the slight upward twitch of her lips. “That’s… great to hear, Yujin. Really.”

“Yeah,” Gaeul added, her tone deceptively casual. “It sounds like you’re doing a great job, keeping him… engaged.”

“Thanks!” Yujin said brightly, completely missing the subtext. “I’m telling you, we’re gonna be besties by the end of this tournament!”

As Yujin bounded off to her room, humming a cheerful tune, Gaeul, and Wonyoung leaned closer, their voices dropping to a whisper.

“She has no idea,” Wonyoung said, shaking her head.

“Nope,” Gaeul agreed, a sly smile forming on her lips. “But it’s working. If Yujin keeps this up, Tiberius won’t know what hit him. By the time he realizes how much time he’s spent bonding, Lucion will have the upper hand.”

Wonyoung smirked, clinking her tea cup against Gaeul’s. “Cheers to that.”

As Yujin’s laughter echoed faintly from her room, the two schemers settled back in their chairs, quietly pleased with how their plan was unfolding.

The sun had barely set when Yujin burst into Tiberius’s room at the hostel, followed closely by Chowon. Tiberius, who had been sitting cross-legged on his bed with his eyes closed, pretending to meditate, cracked one eye open and frowned.

“You two again,” he muttered. “What now?”

“Karaoke!” Yujin announced with a grin that could power a city. She was already pulling on his arm.

Tiberius didn’t budge. “No.”

Chowon crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t make me team up with her, Tiberius. You won’t win.”

“I have a fight tomorrow,” he replied flatly, shrugging off Yujin’s insistent tugging.

“Exactly!” Yujin shot back, hands on her hips. “You need to loosen up. You’re wound tighter than Chowon’s farm accounts at tax season.”

“Wow,” Chowon said, giving Yujin a sidelong glance. “Thanks for that.”

Yujin waved her off. “The point is, you’re overthinking. A little fun won’t kill you. Come on, Tiberius, live a little!”

Chowon softened her tone, stepping closer. “You’ve been working hard, Tiberius. Maybe Yujin’s right. One night won’t ruin you. And who knows? It might even help.”

Tiberius sighed, glancing between their hopeful faces. “Fine. But one hour.”

“Four hours,” Yujin countered immediately.

“Two,” he said.

“Deal!” Yujin grabbed his hand, practically dragging him toward the door. Chowon followed, hiding her amused smile.

Karaoke Chaos

The small, neon-lit karaoke room buzzed with energy. Yujin was in her element, belting out a high-energy pop song, her voice occasionally cracking from laughing too hard. Chowon cheered her on, clutching a tambourine she wielded like a weapon, adding rhythm to the chaos.

Tiberius sat in the corner, arms crossed, watching them with a bemused expression. But when Yujin handed him the microphone during the next song, he surprised everyone by not only singing but absolutely nailing the deep, soulful ballad.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Yujin shouted, nearly dropping her drink. “Since when can you sing like that?”

“I can’t,” Tiberius said, deadpan, handing the mic back.

“You literally just sang like a pro!” Chowon exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“It’s the same as focus training,” he replied with a small shrug. “You channel energy into precision.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” Yujin groaned, but she was grinning. “Do another one!”

By the end of the night, all three of them were hoarse from laughing and singing. Tiberius, despite his earlier reluctance, couldn’t deny he was having fun. He even allowed Yujin to teach him a ridiculous dance to accompany one of her songs, much to Chowon’s delight.

After their little incursion, Yujin heads back to her apartment where Gaeul and Wonyoung await Yujin leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, her lips pursed in thought. Across from her, Gaeul and Wonyoung stood, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and amusement as they listened to her recount the latest developments.

“So,” Gaeul started, raising an eyebrow, “how was it? Your little hangout with your new besties Tiberius and Chowon?”

Yujin rolled her eyes at the teasing tone but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. “It was… fun, actually. Like, 's surprisingly fun. I mean, I thought dragging Tiberius out of his stoic bubble would be the hard part, but Chowon? She’s the real surprise.”

“Oh?” Wonyoung’s eyes glinted with interest as she leaned forward. “Do tell.”

Yujin sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Chowon’s so different when she opens up. She’s sharp, but not in a mean way. She gets Tiberius in a way I don’t think many people do, but she’s also kind of awkward and shy in the cutest way.” She paused, her cheeks warming slightly. “It’s, uh, kind of endearing.”

Gaeul smirked knowingly. “Endearing, huh? Sounds like someone’s got a little crush.”

“On Chowon?” Wonyoung added, her tone playful. “Or Tiberius? Or… both?”

Yujin groaned, pushing herself off the wall and pacing the room. “That’s the problem! I don’t know! At first, I was just messing around, you know, flirting with Tiberius to throw him off his game. But then he turned out to be… actually really cool. And Chowon? She’s so different from me, but we clicked in a way I didn’t expect.”

Gaeul exchanged a glance with Wonyoung, both of them struggling to hide their grins. “So, let me get this straight,” Gaeul said, folding her arms. “You spent time with Tiberius and Chowon, and now you’re standing here confessing that you might have a thing for both of them?”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that,” Yujin muttered, her face flushing. “I’m just… confused, okay? They’re both amazing in their own ways, and I don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

“Sounds like you’re living your own little love triangle,” Wonyoung teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Who knew our Yujin had such a soft spot for the quiet and brooding types?”

“I’m serious!” Yujin snapped, though there was no real bite in her tone. “This isn’t some joke. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like… when I’m with them, everything feels lighter. Like I can just be myself.”

Gaeul’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Okay, fine. We’ll stop teasing. But, Yujin, you’re going to have to figure out what you really want. If you keep leading this on, you’re going to hurt someone—maybe even yourself.”

Yujin sighed, flopping down onto a nearby bench. “I know. I just… I didn’t expect this to happen, you know? I was supposed to be helping you two throw Tiberius off his game, not falling for him—or Chowon.”

Wonyoung crouched beside her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Feelings are messy, but that’s what makes them real. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Gaeul nodded in agreement. “Just… don’t lose sight of who you are in all this, Yujin. Whether it’s Tiberius, Chowon, or neither of them, you’re still you. That’s what matters.”

Yujin looked up at her friends, a small, grateful smile breaking through her conflicted expression. “Thanks, guys. I’ll figure it out… eventually. Until then, I’ll just try to survive being around them without making a total fool of myself.”

“Good luck with that,” Wonyoung quipped, her grin returning. “Because if what you’re saying is true, it sounds like they’ve both already got you wrapped around their fingers.”

Yujin groaned again, throwing her head back dramatically. “Why do I even talk to you two?”

“Because we’re the only ones who’ll call you out on your nonsense,” Gaeul replied, grinning.

As the three of them laughed, Yujin felt a little lighter. Her feelings for Tiberius and Chowon might still be a tangled mess, but at least she wasn’t facing it alone.

The next morning, the change in Tiberius was impossible to ignore. He strode into the arena with a relaxed, almost cocky confidence that had been absent before. His steps were light, his shoulders loose, and his eyes gleamed with a focused intensity that caught everyone’s attention.

The reporters swarmed him during the pre-fight interviews.

“Tiberius, you seem... different today. Did something happen?” one asked, leaning in eagerly.

“Different how?” Tiberius asked a hint of mischief in his tone.

“You’re... brighter,” another reporter said, searching for the right word. “More lively. What’s your secret?”

Tiberius smirked slightly. “No secret. Just good company.”

From the sidelines, Chowon and Yujin watched with proud smiles.

“He’s glowing,” Yujin whispered to Chowon. “That’s because of us.”

Chowon rolled her eyes. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

As Tiberius walked toward the preparation area, the buzz among the crowd and media was clear: this wasn’t the same Tiberius they’d seen before. Whatever he had done the night before had transformed him into a fighter who wasn’t just ready—he was eager to take on the challenge.

And for the first time, Tiberius allowed himself to enjoy the anticipation.

In the quiet, private lounge overlooking the arena, Gaeul and Wonyoung watched Tiberius’s interviews play out on the large screen. Tiberius’s relaxed demeanor and sharp, confident answers immediately caught their attention.

“This... this isn’t right,” Wonyoung said, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. “He’s supposed to be frazzled! Stressed! Overthinking himself into a loss.”

“Instead, he looks better,” Gaeul muttered, leaning forward on the couch, her expression growing colder with every passing second. “What happened last night?”

Wonyoung turned to her. “You sent Yujin to distract him. How did that backfire?”

Gaeul’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. I told her to annoy him, get under his skin, and keep him off balance. She wasn’t supposed to... I don’t know, inspire him.”

Wonyoung groaned, throwing herself dramatically back into the cushions. “Yujin probably did her usual thing—being overbearing, loud, and somehow impossible not to like.”

“She always turns everything into a party,” Gaeul said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known better than to trust her to follow a plan.”

They watched as Tiberius finished his interview with a smirk, casually brushing off the reporters’ questions about his training. He walked away with a spring in his step that made it clear he was feeling better than ever.

“He’s glowing,” Wonyoung said, her voice filled with disbelief.

“That’s not just confidence,” Gaeul said, her tone sharp with annoyance. “He’s... happy.”

Wonyoung sat up, eyes wide. “Do you think Yujin helped him? Like, accidentally gave him the boost he needed to perform better?”

Gaeul’s silence spoke volumes.

“Oh no,” Wonyoung whispered.

“Oh no is right,” Gaeul muttered. She stood and began pacing. “We’ve got to think of something else. If Tiberius goes into this fight feeling like this, Lucion won’t stand a chance.”

Wonyoung frowned, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “But... if he’s this strong now, maybe we should switch gears. Instead of trying to stop him, maybe we should try to... I don’t know, guide him?”

Gaeul stopped pacing, turning to her with an incredulous look. “Guide him?”

Wonyoung shrugged. “Think about it. If he’s destined to win, wouldn’t it be better to be on his side when he does? We could steer him toward something beneficial for us.”

Gaeul didn’t respond immediately, her mind clearly racing.

“Fine,” she said finally, sitting back down. “Let’s see how this fight goes. If he wins, we’ll reevaluate.”

“And if he loses?” Wonyoung asked.

Gaeul smirked faintly. “Then we won’t need to worry about him anymore.”

The two leaned back, their expressions shifting from frustration to calculation. For now, they would watch and wait, their next move hinging on the outcome of Tiberius’s battle with Lucion.

Momotaro stood in the training hall, his blade resting against his shoulder as he watched the replay of Tiberius’s latest interview on the holographic screen. The room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the polished floor as he leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. His usual stoic demeanor was firmly in place, but his eyes narrowed with every word Tiberius spoke.

“He’s... different,” Momotaro muttered to himself, frowning.

The Tiberius on the screen was nothing like the opponent Momotaro had fought. This version of Tiberius was sharper, more collected, and undeniably confident. It wasn’t arrogance, but a calm, centered assurance that radiated strength.

The door creaked open behind him, and Hulk stepped in, his massive frame barely fitting through the entryway. “You’ve been watching that for a while, Taro. What do you think?”

Momotaro turned his head slightly, acknowledging Hulk but keeping his focus on the screen. “He’s grown,” he admitted, his voice low. “Whatever happened after our fight, it’s made him stronger. More dangerous.”

Hulk grinned, stepping forward to join him. “That’s what competition does. Pushes people to evolve. You didn’t think he’d stay the same, did you?”

Momotaro clenched his jaw. “I expected him to improve. I didn’t expect him to become... this.” He gestured at the screen, where Tiberius’s playful smirk lingered after another sharp answer.

Hulk chuckled, folding his arms. “He’s got fire now. Looks like someone reminded him why he’s fighting. That’s the kind of thing that makes a warrior unstoppable.”

Momotaro turned fully toward him, his expression unreadable. “I’ve seen fire like that before. It burns bright... but it’s reckless.”

“You sure about that?” Hulk asked, raising an eyebrow. “He doesn’t look reckless to me. He looks like he’s having fun. That’s a dangerous place to be for someone who knows how to fight.”

Momotaro’s grip on his sword tightened slightly, but his face remained calm. “It doesn’t matter how much he’s improved. He’s still going to lose. Lucion won’t let him get through this fight unscathed.”

“And if he does?” Hulk pressed, watching him carefully.

Momotaro’s eyes flickered with something—determination, perhaps, or something darker. “Then he’ll come for me again,” he said flatly. “And next time, I won’t make the same mistakes.”

Hulk nodded slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Good. I was starting to think you weren’t taking this tournament seriously enough. Let him push you, Taro. Let him remind you why you’re here, too.”

Momotaro didn’t respond immediately, his gaze returning to the screen. Tiberius’s confidence was unnerving, but it also lit a fire within him—a need to prove himself, to reclaim the focus and dominance he’d once held.

“He can grow as much as he wants,” Momotaro said at last, his voice low and resolute. “It won’t change the outcome. He’s still beneath me.”

Hulk grinned, clapping him on the back. “We’ll see, kid. We’ll see.”

As the door closed behind Hulk, Momotaro remained in the training hall, staring at the screen. He watched Tiberius’s final words before the interview ended:

"I’m ready for whatever comes next. Bring it on.”

Momotaro smirked faintly, his hand tightening on his blade. “Careful what you wish for, Tiberius.”

The arena was electric with energy, the crowd roaring as Tiberius stepped into the ring for his fight against Lucion. The clash was set to be one for the ages—both warriors had made names for themselves with their unique fighting styles and unrelenting determination. In the stands, Yujin and Chowon sat side by side, their eyes glued to the combat below.

Tiberius entered the ring with his usual calm confidence, his movements deliberate and precise. His katana glinted under the harsh arena lights, and the quiet intensity in his eyes was enough to silence even the most skeptical audience member.

“He looks… different,” Yujin remarked, leaning slightly toward Chowon as the fight began. “More focused, but also… I don’t know. Lighter?”

Chowon nodded, her gaze never leaving Tiberius. “That’s because he’s more in tune with himself. He’s not just fighting to win anymore. He’s fighting for something deeper.”

Yujin raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re pretty poetic about him, you know. Maybe you should be the one interviewing him after the fight.”

Chowon’s cheeks flushed, but she kept her eyes on the ring. “I’m just stating the truth. Look at him. Every move is deliberate. He’s reading Lucion’s every intention before he even makes a move.”

As if to prove her point, Tiberius effortlessly dodged one of Lucion’s powerful strikes, his counterattack swift and almost too precise to follow. The crowd erupted in cheers, but Yujin and Chowon stayed silent, both watching with growing admiration.

“You think he practices that smirk in the mirror?” Yujin asked suddenly, her tone teasing but her voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. “The one he just did after dodging Lucion’s attack?”

Chowon bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “It’s not a smirk. It’s just… confidence. He’s earned it.”

Yujin tilted her head, studying Tiberius as he parried another blow. “Confidence looks good on him, though.”

Chowon turned to glance at Yujin, her expression softening. “You really think so?”

Yujin caught the tone in her voice and smirked. “Wait a second. Are you crushing on him, Chowon?”

Chowon froze, her composure cracking for a split second. “What? No! I mean… maybe? I don’t know!”

Yujin’s eyes widened, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “This is hilarious. You totally like him!”

“Shh!” Chowon hissed, her face turning red as she looked around to make sure no one else had overheard. “You’re one to talk! You’ve been practically swooning over him this entire time.”

Yujin leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms with a playful pout. “Fine, I’ll admit it. He’s… intriguing. And yeah, he’s got that whole ‘mysterious swordsman’ vibe going for him. But I’m not swooning.”

Chowon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You literally gasped when he took off his jacket at the start of the fight.”

Yujin waved a hand dismissively. “Okay, that was objectively a moment worth gasping over. Have you seen his shoulders?”

Chowon laughed despite herself, her tension easing slightly. “I’ll give you that. But it’s not just that for me. There’s something… grounding about him. He’s been through so much, but he’s still standing. Still fighting.”

Yujin’s expression softened as she looked back at the fight. “Yeah. I get what you mean. He’s… inspiring. In a weird, annoyingly attractive way.”

The two women fell into a comfortable silence, their eyes once again fixed on Tiberius as he landed a decisive strike against Lucion. The crowd erupted in cheers, but Yujin and Chowon found themselves exchanging a glance, both realizing they felt the same thing.

“Well,” Yujin said with a sly smile, “this just got interesting.”

Chowon sighed, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” Yujin replied, her grin widening. “May the best woman win.”

Chowon rolled her eyes, but there was a playful spark in her gaze. “We’ll see.”

As Tiberius stood in the center of the ring, victorious, neither of them could deny the growing feelings stirring in their hearts. For now, though, they focused on cheering him on, knowing that the path ahead—for all of them—was bound to get even more complicated.

The two watch as Tiberius masterfully dodges Lucion’s attacks. Lucion’s bow provided little effectiveness as Tiberius closed the distance between them subtly and efficiently. Having studied all of Tiberius’s last fights Lucion was unprepared when Tiberius began throwing spells and attack patterns he had never seen before.

The fight continues as Yujin and Chowon watch pleased as Tiberius effortlessly defeats Lucion. The crowd is silent as they watch before erupting into cheers.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Tiberius stood in the arena, his arm raised in victory. His latest fight had been nothing short of spectacular, a masterclass in strategy and precision that left his opponent on the ground and the spectators on their feet. From the stands, Yujin’s excitement was practically bursting out of her.

“That’s my guy!” Yujin shouted, her voice cutting through the noise as she jumped up and down, fists pumping the air. “I knew he could do it! That’s my Tiberius!”

Beside her, Chowon clapped and cheered as well, her smile wide but more reserved compared to Yujin’s boundless energy. She glanced at Yujin, who was practically vibrating with pride and excitement and couldn’t help but feel her heart swell at how much Tiberius’s success meant to her.

Before Chowon could say anything, Yujin spun toward her, her eyes bright and sparkling with adrenaline and happiness. Without thinking, Yujin grabbed Chowon’s face and planted a quick but firm kiss on her lips.

Chowon froze, her eyes wide in shock as Yujin pulled back, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration. “Oh my gosh, I—uh—wow, I didn’t mean to just do that!” Yujin stammered, suddenly aware of what she had just done. “I was just so excited and you were right there, and—uh, okay, don’t hate me, but I think I might have a crush on Tiberius… and you.”

Chowon blinked, processing Yujin’s words, and for a moment, the noise of the crowd seemed to fade into the background. Then, to Yujin’s surprise, Chowon let out a soft laugh, her face breaking into a warm smile.

“Well, that’s… surprising,” Chowon admitted, her voice quiet but steady. She reached up and gently took Yujin’s hands in hers. “But it’s not a bad thing.”

Yujin looked at her nervously. “Really? You don’t think I’m, like, completely out of my mind?”

Chowon shook her head, her smile growing. “No, because… I think I have a crush on you too. And, um, on Tiberius.”

Now it was Yujin’s turn to be surprised. “Wait—what? You like both of us?”

Chowon nodded, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve kind of been trying to figure it out myself, but seeing how you reacted just now… I think we’re kind of in the same boat.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the noise of the arena fading away as the realization settled between them. Then, Chowon leaned forward and returned Yujin’s earlier kiss, this time with more certainty and warmth.

When they pulled apart, Yujin was grinning like a fool. “Okay, wow, this day just keeps getting better and better.”

Chowon laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess it does. But, um, we should probably talk about this more… later. After we figure out what to say to Tiberius.”

Yujin groaned dramatically. “Ugh, do we have to talk about feelings? Can’t we just cheer him on and let him keep being oblivious for a little longer?”

Chowon gave her a playful shove. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” Yujin teased, her grin widening.

Chowon rolled her eyes, but her smile never faded. As the two of them turned their attention back to the arena, the energy of the crowd surged around them, but at that moment, all they felt was the warmth of each other’s company—and the excitement of what might come next.

The duo approaches Tiberius after the fight and confesses. Obviously, confused Tiberius says, “Wait me really?”

The girls nod and say, “We make such a good team I think that we should stick together,” Chowon starts.

“Besides this way, we can protect you from the crazies,” Yujin finished.

Tiberius thinks for a moment and then says, “Okay let’s do this,”

Locked in My Head

The arena was silent as Burai’s massive frame hit the ground, the dust swirling around him in the dim light. His sword lay broken a few feet away, glinting faintly in the aftermath of the battle. The once-boisterous crowd, who had been roaring his name mere moments ago, now sat stunned, their cheers replaced by an uneasy silence.

Paladin loomed over Burai, his armored silhouette casting a long shadow across the defeated warrior. His Ikkakalaka, a monstrous weapon forged from an unholy alloy of Vibranium, Dragonite, and Uru, rested lightly on Burai’s chest. The jagged edges of the weapon seemed to hum with restrained energy, crackling faintly as if eager for more destruction.

Burai, battered and broken, forced himself to lift his head. The pain in his limbs screamed for him to stay down, but his pride as a warrior compelled him to meet his opponent’s gaze. What he saw, or rather didn’t see, unnerved him.

Behind the featureless mask that obscured Paladin’s face, there was no anger, no triumph, no humanity—just a chilling, predatory calm. The same quiet malice that had defined every strike of their fight. Paladin leaned down slightly, his voice low and barely audible over the faint murmurs of the crowd.

“Don’t get up,” he whispered, each word dripping with icy finality.

Burai’s instincts told him to resist, to rise, to fight back. But he knew. Paladin wasn’t making a threat—he was making a promise. Burai glanced down at the Ikkakalaka, its edge glowing faintly with the remnants of some destructive magic. One wrong move, one twitch of defiance, and Paladin would finish what he’d started.

For the first time in his storied career, Burai made the choice he had always sworn never to make. He slammed his fist against the ground in submission, his voice hoarse as he called out, “I yield.”

The crowd, initially stunned, erupted into boos and jeers. The air was thick with their dissatisfaction as they vented their frustration. Burai, the fan favorite, their golden warrior, had been dismantled by someone they didn’t understand and didn’t want to embrace.

Paladin stood straight, lowering his weapon. He didn’t acknowledge the crowd, didn’t bask in the victory like so many others. Instead, he turned silently and began walking back to the tunnel that led to the prep rooms.

As he disappeared into the shadows, the audience’s boos only grew louder, a deafening cacophony of anger and disapproval. It wasn’t just Burai’s loss they mourned; it was Paladin’s impenetrable aura, his refusal to play into their expectations.

The private viewing room was dimly lit, the trio sitting in tense silence as the fight between Paladin and Burai replayed on the large screen before them. The aftermath of the battle had shaken the tournament to its core, but it was the way Paladin had dismantled Burai that truly disturbed them.

Wonyoung leaned forward, her hands gripping the armrest of her chair as Paladin delivered the final blow with cold precision. The crowd’s boos echoed faintly through the speakers, but Paladin’s expression never changed. His face remained obscured, his movements methodical, almost mechanical.

“That was…” Gaeul trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Efficient,” Momotaro finished, his voice low. His sharp eyes never left the screen as the replay cut to the slow-motion highlights. “Too efficient. He wasn’t just fighting Burai—he was dissecting him.”

Wonyoung frowned, her brows furrowed. “Burai was supposed to win. He’s one of the strongest fighters in this tournament. How does someone like Paladin come out of nowhere and take him down like that?”

“It wasn’t just strength,” Gaeul said, her voice steady despite the unease creeping into her tone. “Look at the way he moves. He’s reading Burai like a book—countering every habit, exploiting every flaw. It’s like he’s studied him for years.”

Momotaro replayed the fight again, slower this time. Paladin’s movements were precise, almost surgical. Every step he took seemed calculated to draw Burai into making a mistake. The final blow wasn’t just powerful—it was perfectly timed, delivered with a level of control that bordered on terrifying.

“I’ve seen enough,” Momotaro said, pausing the footage. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “We need to know who this guy is.”

Wonyoung and Gaeul exchanged a glance before nodding. “Let’s dig,” Wonyoung said, pulling out her tablet.

Hours later, the trio sat in silence once again, their expressions grim as they stared at the information they had uncovered.

“Dargo “Dragon” Brando,” Gaeul said, breaking the silence. “Mutant Nephew of storm. Formerly affiliated with the Fantastic Four/ Future Foundation.”

“And fought Hulk,” Wonyoung added, scrolling through an article. “Back when he first returned from Sakaar. High ranking agent of the Wakanda Future Alianxe ”

Momotaro narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. “That alliance—between the Wakandans and Future Foundation. They were the ones who helped Reed and T’Challa escape when the war started turning against them.”

“Paladin—Dargo—was part of that,” Gaeul said. “He wasn’t just some foot soldier, either. He was a key player. Look at this—he helped design the extraction plan that got them off-planet.”

“And he fought Hulk,” Wonyoung repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. “Do you know what kind of power it takes to stand against him, even for a moment? And now he’s here, in this tournament, taking down people like Burai with ease.”

Momotaro’s jaw tightened. “He’s not just a fighter. He’s a tactician. A predator. He doesn’t just beat his opponents—he breaks them. Takes everything they’re good at and turns it against them.”

“Which means,” Gaeul said, her voice quiet, “he’s already watching us. Studying us.”

Wonyoung shivered, her grip tightening on her tablet. “How do we stop someone like that?”

Momotaro stood, his eyes hard with determination. “We don’t let him control the fight. If we ever face him, we have to make him fight on our terms. Force him to adapt. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise, we’re just his next prey,” Gaeul finished grimly.

The three exchanged a heavy look, the weight of what they had uncovered settling over them like a storm cloud.

From the champion’s box, Hulk leaned back in his seat, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He’d watched the fight closely, analyzing every move. Paladin’s precision, his cold efficiency—it was brilliant, undeniable. And yet, the crowd hated him.

“He’s too silent,” Hulk muttered to himself, his massive hands resting on the arms of his chair. “They can’t connect to him. He doesn’t give them anything to hold onto.”

Paladin’s face was always hidden, his body language guarded, his fights devoid of showmanship or flair. To the crowd, he was a phantom—a shadow of destruction they couldn’t cheer for or against. And yet, Hulk couldn’t help but admire him. His mystery intrigued the hulk and reminded him much of himself when he was on Sakaar.

In the prep room, Paladin stripped off his armor in silence. His movements were deliberate, methodical, as he folded the pieces into his locker. He swapped his battle gear for plain, dark clothing, pulling up a hood that shadowed his already obscured face.

As he finished, he caught his reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall. His hands lingered for a moment, brushing against the edge of the hood. Beneath the fabric, beneath the mask, his expression remained unreadable.

Hulk entered the room without knocking, his massive frame filling the doorway. The dim light of the prep room cast long shadows, making the space feel smaller. Paladin sat at the far end of the room, still in the process of cleaning the blood and dust off his Ikkakalaka, its jagged edges gleaming faintly. The air between them was heavy with unspoken tension.

“That was some fight,” Hulk began, his voice even but weighted. He folded his arms across his chest, the muscles in his forearms bulging. “But the crowd… they’re not with you.”

Paladin didn’t look up, his focus remaining on the weapon in his hands. “I’m not one for pageantry,” he said flatly, his voice cold and indifferent.

Hulk stared at the young contestant, his brow furrowing as he took a few steps closer. “But why? The crowd’s cheer plays a very important part in wins and losses,” he pressed, his tone edging into frustration.

Paladin stiffened at the comment, the cloth in his hands pausing mid-motion. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured but laced with quiet defiance. “The same crowd that cheered when you were exiled without a trial? The same crowd that cheered when Blue Marvel was forced to retire because no one was ready for a ‘Black superhero’? The same crowd that cheered for the Registration Act, sending heroes into a civil war? The same crowd that cheered when the Illuminati raised an army against you?”

Each word landed like a hammer, forcing Hulk to confront memories he’d tried to bury. His massive fists clenched involuntarily at his sides as he remembered the betrayals, the pain, the hypocrisy of those who had once cheered for him and then turned on him without hesitation.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Hulk said finally, his voice softer now, almost weary. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Paladin, searching for something behind the mask that covered the young fighter’s face. “But can’t you give the crowd something? A little nod, a smirk, even a damn fist pump? You’re not making it easy for anyone to root for you.”

Paladin didn’t respond immediately. He resumed cleaning his weapon, the quiet scrape of the cloth against metal filling the room. After a moment, he placed the Ikkakalaka down with care and rose to his feet, his full height almost matching Hulk’s imposing frame. He turned his head slightly, his voice low and steady as it echoed in the small room. “I don’t fight for them.”

Hulk frowned, his frustration bubbling up again. He stepped closer, his towering form casting a shadow over Paladin. “Then what are you fighting for?” he demanded, his voice firm but tinged with curiosity.

Paladin hesitated, his gloved hand brushing against the edge of the hood that obscured most of his face. For a moment, it seemed as though he might answer, as if the armor around his words might crack. But then he shook his head, his voice colder than ever. “That’s not your concern.”

Hulk exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re good—too good to ignore,” he said, his tone softer now. “But talent only takes you so far. You want to win this? You want to matter? You need to connect. Otherwise, you’re just another fighter in the arena. No one remembers the ghost who doesn’t leave a mark.”

Paladin’s mask tilted slightly, as though he were considering the words, but he gave no reply. Instead, he turned back to his locker, unhooking a plain black jacket and pulling it over his shoulders. Without another word, he picked up the Ikkakalaka, slinging it across his back, and strode toward the exit.

“Think about it,” Hulk called after him, his voice carrying an edge of desperation. “The crowd isn’t your enemy. They don’t have to be.”

Paladin paused at the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder, the faintest hint of his voice escaping from beneath the mask. “They were never my enemy. But they’ll never be my reason, either.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Hulk alone in the silence of the prep room. The towering hero stared at the empty doorway, his thoughts a jumble of admiration, frustration, and concern. Paladin was a fighter like no other, but Hulk couldn’t shake the feeling that the young man’s silence wasn’t just a shield—it was a burden. One that could either make him unstoppable or be the very thing that broke him.

Paladin didn’t answer. Instead, he sheathed his Ikkakalaka and slung it across his back, walking past Hulk without another word.

As the door closed behind him, Hulk stared after him, a mix of frustration and respect in his gaze. Paladin’s silence was his strength, but it was also his weakness. And in a tournament where winning wasn’t just about skill but about leaving a legacy, Hulk wondered if Paladin’s approach would ultimately cost him.

In the tunnel leading out of the arena, Paladin moved like a shadow, the noise of the crowd fading into the distance. Whatever they thought of him didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to entertain them—he was here to win.

Paladin stepped into the dimly lit room, the faint smell of oil and metal lingering in the air. It wasn’t much—a repurposed office space in the abandoned factory he called home—but it was quiet, secure, and his. Or at least it had been until tonight.

His eyes fell on the group of armored women scattered across the room. The air was tense, heavy with a silent challenge. They weren’t ordinary intruders. Their stances, their weapons, the faint glow of otherworldly energy surrounding some of them—this was a team of killers. His gaze stopped on the leader, her blonde hair glowing faintly under the flickering light.

“Magik,” he said flatly, recognizing her immediately.

The other women turned their heads sharply at his tone. Magik stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not supposed to know that name.”

Paladin shrugged, casually tossing his bag onto a nearby table. “I don’t care what you do, just don’t make a mess. You can use the place for now.”

Magik didn’t flinch, but her voice carried a dangerous edge. “You know, now that you’ve seen us, we have to kill you.”

“Um, no, you don’t,” Paladin replied, his tone bored.

A tall, tan woman with a sharp glare stepped forward, the weight of her presence almost tangible. “Actually, yes, we do.”

Paladin sighed, his body language calm as he unsheathed his blade. He moved with precision, readying himself for a fight. But then, as if reconsidering, he sheathed the weapon again, giving the group a disinterested look.

“Is this it? Is this all you’ve got?” he asked, his tone tinged with faint mockery.

Magik’s lips curved into a smirk, though her eyes remained hard. “You think I’m afraid of the Hulk?”

Paladin rolled his eyes and stepped closer, his tone softening. “Illyana, please don’t do this.”

Her smirk faltered. The room grew still. The Hellions exchanged uneasy glances, and Magik tilted her head slightly. “How do you know my name?”

Paladin raised a hand and slowly removed his mask, revealing a face marred by scars but undeniably familiar. Magik’s eyes widened as recognition struck her.

“Dragon?” she whispered, her voice almost trembling.

He gave her a small nod, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, Magik stared, her tough exterior cracking. Then, without hesitation, she crossed the space between them and pulled him into a tight hug. The Hellions lowered their weapons, watching the unexpected reunion unfold.

“I thought you died,” Magik said quietly, her voice tinged with guilt.

“I almost did,” Paladin—Dragon—replied simply.

Magik pulled back, her hands gripping his shoulders. “You’re so dramatic,” she muttered, though there was a flicker of relief in her eyes.

He gestured to the space around them. “My home is your refuge for now,” he said, his tone softer.

Magik gave him a small smile, motioning for her team to stand down. As the Hellions began to disperse, two of them lingered—Jihyo and Jeewon.

Jeewon, her face a mix of emotions, stepped closer. She looked at Dragon hesitantly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her armor. “Dragon… are you okay?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze steady. But before he could speak, Jeewon closed the distance between them, her hands reaching up to gently remove the faceplate from his armor. She stood on her toes and kissed him, her lips soft but filled with urgency.

For a moment, Dragon froze, caught off guard. Then, as if a dam had broken, he returned the kiss, his arms wrapping around her. When they finally broke apart, Jeewon’s voice was breathless but steady.

“I’m never leaving you again, my hurricane,” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly as they rested against his chest.

From the corner of the room, Magik let out a soft laugh, her arms crossed as she watched the scene. “You two are so sappy,” she teased, though there was warmth in her tone.

Jihyo, still standing nearby, cleared her throat. “Dragon, what about Greyhound? Is he…”

Dragon looked at her, his expression softening. “He’s okay. He’s with Charles and the rest of the Illuminati.”

Jihyo’s face brightened with a smile. “Good,” she said simply, stepping back to let Jeewon have her moment.

Jeewon grabbed Dragon’s hand and led him toward the makeshift room he had built in the factory’s old office. Inside, the space was sparse but functional, with a bed pushed against one wall and a small table cluttered with maps and tools.

Jeewon sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning his face with a mix of relief and concern. “What happened after we left you on Earth?” she asked softly, her gaze lingering on the scars that crisscrossed his skin.

Dragon hesitated, his expression darkening. “A lot,” he admitted finally. “More than I can explain in one night.”

Jeewon reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “Then we’ll take it one night at a time,” she said gently.

For the first time in what felt like years, Dragon allowed himself to relax, the weight of his past momentarily lifting as he sat beside her.

“Well I guess it starts when i decided to go through with Hulk’s realm champion tournament.” Dargo began

The sounds of the forge filled the air—hammer on steel, the hiss of cooling water, and the low hum of machinery working in unison. The heat was oppressive, but it felt like home to Paladin—no, to Dargo. It had been years since he’d stepped into a forge like this, but the familiarity of it all tugged at memories he’d tried to bury.

Near the anvil stood the Forge Master, a stout yet commanding figure with arms thick from decades of crafting weapons for the strongest warriors and heroes across the realms. His beard was streaked with gray, his eyes sharp beneath bushy brows as they flicked up at the figure entering the room.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Dargo the Dragon,” the Forge Master said, his gruff voice tinged with amusement. “Back from the dead, eh?”

Dargo pulled back his hood, revealing his scarred face. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Miss me, old man?”

The Forge Master let out a hearty laugh that echoed through the chamber. “Miss you? Boy, you were always too stubborn to miss. Thought you’d finally kicked it for good, though. Guess the rumors were exaggerated.”

Dargo chuckled lightly, his gaze drifting toward the molten metal glowing in the forge. “I’ve heard that one before.”

The Forge Master shook his head, still grinning. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here. What’s your game this time? Looking to make trouble, or are you finally trying to get yourself killed?”

Dargo’s smile faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. He leaned against a workbench, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m here because I’m tired of watching everything fall apart. I’m tired of wars. I’m tired of heroes fighting each other. I want to bring back the peace that existed before the Registration Act. Before everything turned into chaos.”

The Forge Master let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “That’s wishful thinking, boy. But…” He sighed, his tone softening. “It’s a noble goal. Someone’s gotta try, I suppose.”

Dargo’s gaze hardened, his resolve unshakable. “If no one else will, I will.”

The Forge Master studied him for a long moment before nodding. “If you’re serious about this, you’re gonna need more than just resolve. You need a weapon worthy of your fight.”

He turned and moved to a large chest at the back of the forge, its surface blackened from years of heat and soot. With a grunt, he opened it to reveal a pair of weapons that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

“This,” the Forge Master said, pulling out a massive ikakalaka—a hybrid weapon that functioned as both a club and a blade—“is Achilles. Forged from vibranium, dragonite, and uru. It absorbs energy from every blow it lands, making it stronger with each strike.”

He then held up a shield, its surface etched with intricate runes. “And this shield? Same alloy. It’ll take whatever energy it absorbs and send it right back at your enemy.”

Dargo stepped forward, his hand brushing over the weapons. They hummed with power, as though alive, resonating with his very soul.

“These are yours,” the Forge Master said. “Weapons for a warrior with a purpose. Just don’t forget—power like this doesn’t come without a price. The stronger they get, the more they’ll demand of you.”

Dargo took the ikakalaka and shield, testing their weight. They felt perfect, as if they’d been waiting for him.

He turned to the Forge Master, his voice quiet but firm. “Thank you.”

The Forge Master waved him off. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a hell of a fight ahead of you, Dragon. Let’s see if you can live up to those scars.”

Dargo strapped the weapons to his back, his smirk returning faintly. For the first time in years, he felt ready—not just to fight, but to stand for something worth fighting for. The weight of the weapons on his shoulders was nothing compared to the weight of his resolve. This wasn’t about revenge or glory; it was about restoring the balance he once believed in.

Jeewon listened intently as Paladin recounted his story. His voice was steady but distant, as if he was narrating the life of someone else rather than his own. She could sense the hesitation behind his words, the deliberate omissions as he danced around the full truth. He was holding back, shielding himself from fully opening up to her, and it broke her heart. This wasn’t the Dragon she remembered. The man she had known was unflinchingly honest, brimming with passion, and carrying a spark of hope that could ignite an entire room.

Now, that spark was gone. The light that once defined him was buried beneath layers of pain and isolation. Jeewon’s heart ached as she watched him, his eyes heavy with the weight of his burdens, his movements careful and restrained, as if he was afraid to let himself feel anything.

Without thinking, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his tense frame and pressing her head to his chest. She let her warmth flow through her, hoping it would reach him. Paladin stiffened at first, unused to such closeness, but slowly, almost reluctantly, he relaxed into her embrace. It was one of the first genuine moments of comfort he’d allowed himself in years.

“Dragon,” Jeewon whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Please come back.”

Paladin didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. She could feel the walls he’d built around himself, thick and unyielding, but she wasn’t ready to give up.

“This stoic act, it’s not you,” she continued, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “You’re easygoing and happy, not guarded and cold. You used to laugh, even when things seemed impossible. You used to believe in people, in us.”

Jeewon reached up, her fingers trembling slightly as she unhooked the metal plate obscuring his face. The action was gentle, deliberate, as if she was peeling away the mask he had hidden behind for so long. When the plate fell away, she saw the face she remembered—the face of the man she had loved before war and responsibility had carved so many scars into his soul. His eyes, though weary, still held a flicker of the fire she knew was buried deep within.

“I want my Hurricane back,” she said, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes.

Paladin’s gaze softened for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. He closed his eyes, a deep sigh escaping him as he struggled to respond.

“You don’t understand, Jeewon,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “The man you knew… he doesn’t exist anymore. I’ve seen too much, done too much. I can’t be him again.”

“Yes, you can,” she said firmly, her hands cupping his face. “That man is still in there. I see him, even if you can’t. He’s in the way you hesitate to hurt others unnecessarily, the way you protect those who can’t protect themselves. You might not feel it, but he’s still here, Dargo. And I’m not giving up on him.”

Paladin shook his head, his jaw tightening as he tried to pull away, but Jeewon wouldn’t let him. She pressed her forehead to his, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“You’re not alone, Dargo. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. Please, let me in. Let me help you.”

For a long moment, the room was filled with silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing. Paladin’s hands slowly came up to rest on her wrists, his touch hesitant, unsure.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I’m afraid of letting you see how broken I’ve become. Of letting anyone see.”

“You’re not broken,” Jeewon said softly. “You’re hurt. But hurt can heal. It just takes time… and people who care about you.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she continued, her voice trembling. “I care about you, Dragon. I always have. And I’ll be here, no matter how long it takes. I’ll wait for you to find your way back, but please… please don’t shut me out.”

Paladin’s shoulders sagged, the weight of her words breaking through his defenses. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to feel something other than numbness. He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Jeewon tightened her embrace, her heart swelling with hope. She could feel it—the first cracks in the walls he had built around himself. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

As the night wore on, Jeewon remained by Dargo’s side, her arms wrapped protectively around him. The tension that had been etched into his every movement began to ease, his breathing slowing into a steady rhythm. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to surrender, to let go of the constant vigilance that had kept him alive but had also worn him down.

Jeewon held him close, gently stroking his hair as his head rested against her shoulder. She could feel his exhaustion, not just physically but emotionally, and it broke her heart to think of all he had endured. Yet, for now, he was at peace.

“Sleep,” she whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re safe here.”

Dargo’s lips moved slightly, a faint murmur escaping as he drifted into a deep sleep. Jeewon stayed awake, watching over him, a small smile playing on her lips as she felt the faintest glimmer of hope for the man she loved.

The early morning light filtered through the cracks in the factory’s walls, illuminating the makeshift bedroom with a soft, golden glow. Dargo stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. For a moment, he was disoriented, the memories of the previous night flooding back.

“Good morning, Hurricane,” Jeewon murmured, her voice laced with affection.

Dargo blinked, turning his head to see her still sitting beside him, a gentle smile on her face. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the door to the room creaked open.

“Well, well,” came a familiar voice, sharp and teasing. “The great Dragon finally wakes up.”

Dargo sat up quickly, his body tense as Magik stepped into the room, her arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. She was dressed in her battle attire, her soul sword resting against her shoulder.

“Ilyanna,” he said, his voice still groggy.

“Don’t ‘Ilyanna’ me,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been sulking in this place long enough. Time to see if you’ve still got it, protégé.”

Dargo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Magik said with a grin, tossing him a wooden practice sword. “I want to see if all that brooding has dulled your skills.”

Jeewon gave Dargo an encouraging look, gently squeezing his hand. “You should go. She won’t let up until you do.”

With a resigned groan, Dargo stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders as he grabbed the practice sword. “Fine,” he said, glancing at Magik. “But don’t blame me if you regret this.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Magik replied, her grin widening as she led him to the sparring area.

The two faced off in the wide, open space of the factory floor. Magik twirled her sword with practiced ease, her movements fluid and precise. Dargo, now fully awake and focused, settled into a ready stance, the wooden sword held firmly in his grip. He set his armor back in place and he was Paladin once more. Both Jeewon and Magik noticed his change in countenance as he armored up. It saddened them to see him so guarded and mechanical

“Show me what you’ve got,” Magik said, her tone challenging. Paladin nodded before getting in a ready stance. He faced her with a malicious silence that put the rest of Magik’s Hellions on edge. Magik charged. Using her stepping disc she tried to get the edge on Dragon but found it difficult due to his hardened reflexes. He anticipated her every move and the one after that leaving her on the ropes.

Jeewon watched from afar saddened by Dragon’s almost mechanical movements and stiff attacks. His fluidity was gone which she noticed is probably from all of the scar tissue covering his body. She made the mental not to try rejuvenation on Dragon later tonight to hopefully mend more of him.

After Paladin’s fight with Burai. Leviathan began running some calculations with his girlfriend as to who his next opponent would be. Had Burai bested Paladin it would have been Burai but due to his loss and Paladin’s new seating after his most recent fight his schedule was in flux.

Eventually the math checked out to be a fighter named Diobronto

The preparation chambers were dimly lit, the echoes of the arena still faintly audible through the stone walls. Leviathan leaned against a pillar, his face a mask of quiet contemplation. Across from him, Heejin sat cross-legged on a bench, her eyes fixed on him with an intensity that matched her concern.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Heejin said, breaking the silence. “Something tells me it’s not just the fight you’re thinking about.”

Leviathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not just any fight, Heejin. It’s Diobronto.”

Heejin arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Diobronto? The crowd favorite? The one who cracks jokes mid-fight and has the whole arena eating out of his hand?”

“Yeah, that Diobronto,” Leviathan replied, his voice heavy. “It’s not just the crowd that makes him a problem. It’s who he is—and what he’s fighting for.”

Heejin leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Go on.”

Leviathan hesitated, his fingers drumming against the pillar. “You’ve seen how the crowd loves him. They adore his charm, his humor. But what most people don’t know is that he’s not here for glory or fame. He’s here for revenge.”

Heejin tilted her head, intrigued. “Revenge? Against who?”

“Burai,” Leviathan said, his jaw tightening. “Apparently, they were allies once, partners in the field. But Burai… stabbed him in the back. Literally. All for a shot at success. Diobronto barely survived, and now? He’s made it his mission to fight his way through this tournament just to face Burai again.”

Heejin whistled softly. “That’s… intense. No wonder the crowd loves him. A personal vendetta makes for a great story.”

“It’s more than that,” Leviathan said, his voice lowering. “Diobronto not just a skilled fighter—he’s unpredictable. He uses his humor to throw you off, but underneath it all, he’s calculating. Every move he makes is designed to exploit weaknesses. And after what Burai did to him, he fights like someone who has nothing to lose.”

Heejin studied Leviathan’s expression, noting the tension in his shoulders and the shadow of unease in his eyes. “You’re scared of him,” she said softly, not as an accusation but as an observation.

Leviathan didn’t deny it. “I’d be stupid not to be. He’s got the crowd on his side, a grudge fueling his every step, and skills that rival anyone in this tournament. He’s dangerous, Heejin. And what’s worse? He’s smart. He’ll study me, find every flaw in my technique, and use it against me.”

Heejin stood and crossed the room, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve faced dangerous opponents before, Leviathan. What makes Diobronto so different?”

Leviathan met her gaze, his voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability. “Because he’s not just fighting to win. He’s fighting for something he believes in. And that kind of conviction? It makes people unstoppable.”

Heejin nodded slowly, processing his words. “But you’ve got something too, Levi. You’ve got your own reasons for being here. Don’t let his story overshadow yours.”

Leviathan gave her a small, appreciative smile. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Part of the job,” Heejin teased, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “But seriously, Levi, you’ve got this. Diobronto may be a crowd favorite, but you’re not fighting for their approval. You’re fighting for you. And that’s just as powerful.”

Leviathan exhaled deeply, some of the tension leaving his body. “Thanks, Heejin. I needed that.”

“Anytime,” she said with a grin. “Now, how about we strategize a little? If Diobronto’s as unpredictable as you say, you’ll need a game plan.”

“Good idea,” Leviathan agreed, his determination returning. “Let’s figure this out. Together.”

Vendetta

After my most recent fight, I headed home. It was another win—another opponent defeated, another step closer to what I really wanted. But it wasn’t Burai. Again. For the fourth time, I’d asked to face him directly, but Hulk had been adamant that I needed to earn my way there. “The right way,” he’d called it. He said my petty vengeance wasn’t fair, that it undermined the tournament’s purpose.

Unfair? It wasn’t like I planned to stick around afterward. My goal was simple: beat Burai, settle the score, and disappear back to my little corner of the world. But no. Instead of wrapping things up quickly, I’d been forced to climb this ridiculous ladder. The more I fought, the more my fame and legend grew, and the more tangled I became in the tournament’s narrative. Now people were rooting for me like I was some sort of hero. It was exhausting.

When adapting Mei to Mei Washio, her introduction gains a layer of serpentine mystique and a duality of nurturing and danger that fits her unique presence. Mei’s snake-like features and confident aura would shift the focus of her character, emphasizing her as someone both alluring and potentially treacherous. Here’s how this could adjust her introduction:

When I finally reached my door, I stopped short. A young woman stood waiting for me, leaning casually against the frame. Her presence was magnetic, her confidence almost tangible. She had an aura that was both motherly and serpentine—a strange combination of sultry allure and gentle composure that left my thoughts scattered.

Her body was undeniably captivating, but it was her subtle, reptilian features that caught my attention. Scales adorned her collarbone, shimmering faintly under the light, and her golden eyes were slitted like a snake’s. A mutant, I thought, my gaze traveling over her. I tried to keep my appraisal focused and respectful, but it wasn’t easy.

“Diobronto?” she asked, her voice smooth, with a teasing lilt that made it impossible to ignore her.

I nodded slowly, unsure what to make of her. Her smile widened as she stepped forward, moving with a grace that felt both deliberate and effortless. “I’m Mei Washio,” she introduced herself, her tone light yet tinged with intrigue. Her piercing eyes locked onto mine, and I felt like she could see straight through me.

As I hesitated, she tilted her head, her scales catching the faintest glimmer of light. “Like what you see?” she asked, her voice a soft purr.

I nodded again, unsure how else to respond. Her chuckle was low and melodic, sending a shiver down my spine. Without waiting for an invitation, she opened the door and stepped inside, her movements as smooth as flowing water.

Once the door closed behind us, I found my voice. “Why are you here?” I asked, my tone wary. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She turned back to me, her expression playful yet enigmatic. Raising a finger to her lips, she shushed me gently before stepping closer. “Oh, but I do,” she said, her smile revealing the faintest hint of sharp teeth. “You’re the funniest and most interesting part of this entire tournament’s story. You and Burai? That whole drama? It’s like something out of a myth. Two creators of great stories and characters… and then Burai stabs you in the back, both literally and metaphorically. And now you’re out for revenge? It’s perfect. You couldn’t write a better narrative.”

I sighed, her words cutting deeper than I expected. “That’s not entirely true,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Burai and I were good friends—or at least, I thought we were. Then something happened. I don’t even know what. Maybe I said something he didn’t like, or maybe I pissed off the wrong person. Whatever it was, he stopped talking to me out of nowhere.

“I could’ve handled that,” I continued, my voice growing sharper. “But then he goes around airing his grievances to everyone but me. And then—then—he stabs me in the back. I’m not letting that slide. It’s bullshit, and I hate it.”

Mei’s laughter burst forth, loud and unrestrained, as if I’d just delivered the punchline to the world’s funniest joke. She doubled over, clutching her sides, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s even funnier,” she said between breaths. “So let me get this straight—you’re facing off against some of the world’s best fighters just to be petty?”

I shrugged, feeling a little defensive. “Pretty much.”

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, a smirk still playing on her lips. “You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

“Oh, I know,” I replied, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “In my defense, I told Hulk to just put me in against Burai early on so I wouldn’t screw up the tournament for everyone else. But no, he wouldn’t do it. And now I’m four victories in, and more than half the contestants are out. So yeah, I look like even more of a jackass.”

Mei shook her head, her laughter fading into a softer chuckle. Her eyes, however, remained sharp, as if she was reading deeper into me than I was comfortable with.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said, though there was a strange note of admiration in her voice.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered, slumping into a chair.

She studied me in silence for a moment, her playful demeanor softening into something gentler. “You know, Dio,” she began, her voice quieter now, “you might think this is all about vengeance, but maybe it’s about something more. Something you haven’t admitted to yourself yet.”

I frowned, her words catching me off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She leaned forward, her movements deliberate, her golden eyes locking onto mine. “Revenge might be your excuse, but it’s not your purpose.” She smiled again, enigmatic and knowing. “You’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

Mei then got up and approached me before kissed me as she did she wrapped her plush thighs around my waist and all semblance of self-control or restraint left as soon as she put my hands on her ass. We broke the kiss and she slid her panties down from her skirt.

“Naughty boy,”Mei cooed as I took her top off, before bringing me in for a sloppy kiss. Her tongue wrapped around mine like an anaconda trying to suffocate mine and I was totally into it. When she broke the kiss she elegantly uncoiled from around me and began to strip fully. She smiled as she led me to my bedroom as if she had done a thousand times.

We were both fully nude by the time we both entered the room. Mei pranced around my room wearing only her teasing smirk. Her body was even more insane bare. Full ripe breasts, a plump ass you could bounce coins off and the plushest thighs I have ever seen. My dick throbbed witnessing such a vixen. I closed the distance with another kiss. She purred at the control she had over me. I wrap a hesitant hand around her thigh and Mei goes berserk as she spreads her legs and coils her hands around me like a snake and pulls me in closer. “Fuck I gasp as she coils herself around me tighter and tighter. She whispers in my ear.

“Im not letting go until you pass out.” she smiles as she leglocks me before having my cock embedded in her pussy. I groan as I bottom out. Mei moans before grinding against my crotch. I lift her from the bed and her coils tighten around me as I thrust in and out of her. She is ungodly tight but so fucking wet. Her pussy drools almost hungrily as she takes me in and out of her lower gluttonous gullet. Her body snakes around mine as she whispers more and more filth into my ears. She smiles as I thrust in and out of her.

Somehow she seems to get tighter I groaned as her pussy constricts my cock.

“Fuck you're suffocatingly tight,” I groan. Mei smiles then says

“I am! Now Cum!” her voice was commanding and I acquiesce exploding inside of her. Mei’s greedy pussy milks me for all I'm worth. She forces my mouth on her full tits and oh my fucking god she tastes amazing the salt of her sweat congrats the sweetness of whatever thing she’s wearing. It’s spicy and reminds me of cinnamon. As I devour her breasts I can’t enough, so I suck and I suck. As she coils tighter around me she moans in ecstasy. I groan as I flip her over to get a view of that plump ass. Mei yelps

“Oh how brutish… more!” she pleads so I give her more. I bend her over before spanking her.

I barely can hold on as we spend the rest of the night fucking, and fucking, until I black out.

I woke up in a mild haze. Mei’s body strewn against mine. As I stirred Mei smiled at me and said, “Fuck babe you were an animal last night,” my mind raced as Mei kissed me on my cheek before saying, “lets get ready.”

I nodded and we were off.

After getting breakfast, Mei and I sat on a bench overlooking the arena grounds. The morning sun painted the sky in hues of orange and gold, and the chatter of early spectators drifted in the air. Mei had insisted we come here, claiming it was the perfect spot to “reflect.” Whatever that meant.

She took a long sip from her drink, her eyes watching the arena as if sizing it up. “So,” she began, her voice light but probing, “what’s the plan? If you make it to the last battle, and it’s you versus Burai… and you win?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out in front of me. “That’s the plan. I win. End of story.”

Mei turned to face me, raising an eyebrow. “End of story? Come on, Dio, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“Why not?” I countered. “I get my revenge, put him in his place, and then I’m done. No more tournaments, no more fighting. I go back to my quiet little life, just like I planned.”

She tilted her head, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle she was trying to solve. “You really think it’s going to be that simple?”

“It’s not complicated,” I said, shrugging. “He betrayed me. He deserves to pay for it. Once that’s done, there’s nothing keeping me here.”

Mei set her drink down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Okay, but what happens after you beat him? You think all this—” she gestured broadly at the arena, the crowds, the tournament—“just goes away? People already see you as this larger-than-life figure. If you take down Burai, you’ll be a legend. You think they’ll let you disappear after that?”

I frowned, her words sinking in. I didn’t want to be a legend. I didn’t want the fame, the attention, or any of it. All I wanted was to settle the score and move on. But deep down, I knew she had a point.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I muttered. “I just wanted to fight Burai. That’s it.”

Mei smiled softly, her tone gentler now. “I know. But the world doesn’t work like that. You can’t control what people see in you, Dio. And if you win… well, you’re going to have to decide what kind of legend you want to be.”

I looked away, the weight of her words settling over me. “I don’t care about being a legend,” I said quietly. “I just want to be free of all this.”

She reached out and placed a hand on my arm, her touch grounding me. “Maybe you should think about what ‘freedom’ really means to you. Because right now, it sounds like you’re running from something. And I don’t think beating Burai is going to fix that.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. She wasn’t wrong. As much as I hated to admit it, this wasn’t just about Burai. It was about everything that had led me here—everything I’d lost, everything I’d buried.

Mei gave me a small, knowing smile, as if she could see the gears turning in my head. “Take it from someone who’s watched you fight, Dio. You’ve got more in you than just anger. Maybe it’s time you figure out what else is driving you.”

I sighed, leaning back on the bench. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who just met me.”

She grinned, a playful glint in her eye. “What can I say? I’m invested in the story. And you, my friend, are the most interesting character in it.”

Despite myself, I chuckled. “You really think this is all just some big story, huh?”

“Of course,” she said, her grin widening. “And the best stories? They’re the ones where the hero figures out who they really are.”

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’m no hero, Mei.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms with a confident smirk. “We’ll see about that.”

Mei leaned into my shoulder, her breathing slowing to a soft, steady rhythm. It didn’t take long for me to realize she had fallen asleep. The warmth of her body, the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the silence of the room worked their magic, and soon enough, I drifted off as well.

The next thing I distinctly remember is waking up to the sensation of a massive hand lightly shaking my shoulder. Blinking groggily, I opened my eyes to see Hulk looming over me, his expression a mix of sternness and warmth. His sheer size filled the space, but it was his knowing look that caught my attention. He wasn’t angry; if anything, his eyes carried a strange kindness that felt out of place, given my usual interactions with him.

“Good to see you so relaxed, Diobronto,” he said, his deep voice tinged with amusement. “You’re usually so uptight.”

I groaned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Mei stirred next to me but didn’t wake immediately. Stretching, I looked up at him and muttered, “Sorry for falling asleep in the arena.”

Hulk waved off my apology with a chuckle. “No need to apologize. You’re one of the few fighters here who understands the point of this whole thing. You get what this tournament is really about.”

I squinted at him, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. “And what exactly is it about, big guy?”

He gave me a look that was both knowing and paternal, crossing his massive arms as he spoke. “This tournament isn’t just about who can throw the hardest punch or land the flashiest move. It’s about building something bigger—creating the next generation of heroes. And whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve become the aspirational everyman. The crowd loves you because you represent something they can believe in.”

I frowned, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “I’m not a hero,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I’m here for revenge. That’s it.”

Hulk laughed, the sound booming and filling the room. Mei, now fully awake, joined in with a chuckle as she leaned back against the wall, her sharp eyes watching the exchange with interest.

“Whether you think you’re a hero or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you act like one,” Hulk countered. “Despite your whole ‘revenge plot,’ you carry yourself with integrity. You’re upstanding, moral—well, mostly—and you respect your opponents. You understand what this tournament is trying to achieve, and you lean into it. You play the part of a hero without even realizing it.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “How? How exactly am I playing the part of a hero?”

He grinned, pointing a massive finger at me. “Remember that kid who came up to you after your last fight? He asked you how he could be like you, and you didn’t brush him off or tell him something dumb. You told him to eat his vegetables, exercise, brush his teeth, and finish his homework. That’s the kind of stuff heroes do, even when they don’t have to. You inspire people, Dio. Families come to watch your fights because they see someone worth rooting for.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Really? That many people care?”

Hulk nodded. “You’re the kind of fighter they bring their kids to see. You’ve got the strength, sure, but more importantly, you’ve got the heart. That’s why the crowd loves you.”

Mei chose that moment to chime in, her voice sultry as she leaned forward. “It’s also why I can’t get enough of you,” she purred, her tone teasing yet laced with sincerity. Her piercing gaze locked onto mine, making her intentions abundantly clear.

Hulk barked out a laugh, clearly amused by her boldness. “See? Even she knows you’re a hero. And I need you to stay in this tournament, Dio. You’re too good at this to throw it all away for some petty revenge. Heroes like you don’t just win fights—they give people something to believe in.”

I sighed, leaning back against the wall as I processed his words. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” I admitted. “I just wanted to fight Burai and be done with it.”

“And yet here you are,” Hulk said, clapping a massive hand on my shoulder with surprising gentleness. “You’re here for more than just yourself, whether you like it or not. Don’t waste it.”

Mei smirked, tilting her head as she watched me. “Guess that means you’ve got to stick around, hero.”

I glanced between the two of them—Hulk’s unwavering belief and Mei’s playful admiration—and sighed. Maybe they were right. Maybe there was more to this than I wanted to admit. But that didn’t mean I had to like it. After hulk’s little pep talk he got up and said,

“Youre next fight is Burai. I do hope you make the right choice after,”

A rush of emotions and thoughts go through my head as Hulk and Mei laugh while Hulk leaves.

Here was everything I ever wanted but at what cost?

As the door closed behind Hulk, the room fell silent. Mei shifted closer to me, her gaze soft yet inquisitive. I could feel the weight of the moment settling over us. Burai. The name echoed in my head like a drumbeat. I had fought so hard, clawed my way through this tournament, just for a shot at him. And now, the fight was finally within reach.

“You okay?” Mei’s voice broke the quiet, her tone gentle but probing.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. I mean… this is what I wanted, right? Burai’s next. Everything I’ve done so far has been for this moment. But now…” My voice trailed off as I stared at the floor, trying to piece together what I was feeling.

“But now you’re wondering if it’s worth it?” she finished for me, her expression unreadable.

I looked up at her, surprised. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

She shrugged with a small smile. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Dio. You might act all tough and brooding, but deep down, you’re a lot more thoughtful than you let on. You care, even when you pretend you don’t.”

Her words struck a chord, and I found myself nodding slowly. “It’s just… Hulk said some things that I can’t shake. About being a hero, about people looking up to me. I didn’t ask for any of that. I’m not trying to inspire anyone. I just want to settle the score with Burai and move on with my life. Is that so bad?”

Mei tilted her head, studying me intently. “It’s not bad, but maybe it’s not that simple anymore. Whether you like it or not, you’ve become something bigger than yourself. People see you as a symbol, Dio. A guy who stands up, fights hard, and doesn’t back down—even when the odds are stacked against him. That matters to people. It matters to me.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she leaned back, resting her head against the wall, her eyes thoughtful.

“What happens after you fight him?” she asked quietly.

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s your plan? Let’s say you beat Burai. You get your revenge, the crowd goes wild, and the tournament wraps up. What happens next? Do you just disappear? Go back to your ‘little corner of the world,’ as you put it?”

Her words hit harder than I expected. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. All my focus had been on reaching this point, on confronting Burai. What came after was a blank slate.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I thought beating him would be enough. That it would give me closure.”

“And now?” she pressed, her gaze unwavering.

I exhaled heavily, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “Now I’m not so sure. Hulk’s right—this tournament has become something bigger than me and Burai. I don’t know if I can just walk away from it all without feeling like I let everyone down.”

Mei reached out and placed a hand on mine, her touch warm and steady. “You don’t have to decide right now,” she said softly. “But when the time comes, just remember that you’re more than your grudge. You’re more than what Burai did to you. You’ve already proven that.”

I looked at her, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt or insincerity. But all I saw was genuine belief—belief in me.

“Thanks,” I said after a long pause. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, but… it helps to hear that.”

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