The air in the arena thickened with tension as the massive doors swung open, revealing a dimly lit battlefield. Fragments of shattered realities hovered above, casting strange, distorted shadows across the ground. The once empty stands were now filled with cloaked figures, their faces hidden in shadow, their gazes piercing through the void. A low murmur ran through the crowd as the participants of the Tournament of the Shattered Veil took their places.
Akio stood still, his glowing red eyes fixated on the hooded figure before him—the one whose presence he had feared the most.
Yuna.
He could see the familiar flow of her chestnut hair, the graceful curve of her neck, and those emerald eyes, glowing eerily beneath her hood. It was unmistakable, but something was wrong. She stood unnaturally still, her gaze empty, devoid of the playful spark he knew so well.
"Yuna..." Akio's voice barely made it past his lips, hoarse and strained.
No response.
"Yuna, it's me, Akio!" He took a step forward, but his body felt heavy, weighed down by the overwhelming flood of emotions and the power radiating from the pulsing tear in the center of the arena.
Valen's cold chuckle snapped him out of his daze. "Surprised? I told you, Akio, this tournament is full of unexpected challenges." He stepped closer to Akio, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "She's part of it now. Just like you."
Akio's fists clenched at his sides. The thought of Yuna being twisted into this monstrous game, manipulated by powers beyond their control, ignited a fury within him. He had vowed to save her. He wouldn't let The Shattered Veil consume her soul.
"Akio!" Valen's voice cut through the haze. "You hesitate, you die. The tournament waits for no one."
The sharp, cold reminder pulled him back to the present. He tore his gaze from Yuna and looked around. Other hooded figures were stepping forward, their identities hidden, but Akio could feel the power radiating from each of them. He recognized the oppressive aura of some—warriors from another time, legends whose names were whispered across history.
The matchups were being formed.
The first contestant emerged from the shadows: Simo Häyhä, the White Death, a master of precision, clad in a white hood that barely concealed his sharp eyes. His breath was steady, his movements calculating. Akio could sense the lethal intent emanating from him. He was like a sniper waiting for the perfect moment to strike, manipulating the very fabric of space with delicate, lethal precision.
Next was a massive figure, towering over the others. His armor gleamed under the dim light of the arena, and the spear in his hand crackled with energy. Leonidas I, King of Sparta, exuded an aura of unwavering strength and determination, his presence commanding respect. He stepped forward, eyeing his opponent across the arena.
The crowd shifted as two more figures approached the center. Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro—two swordsmen whose rivalry was legendary. Their eyes locked in an unspoken duel before they even raised their blades. The tension between them crackled in the air as their swords hummed with power, the very ground beneath them trembling in anticipation.
Another figure strode into the arena, exuding an aura of invincible ferocity. Lu Bu, The Flying General, stared down his opponent: Khalid ibn al-Walid, the Sword of God. The two warriors exchanged nothing more than a silent nod before the arena itself seemed to pulse with the promise of their impending clash.
Akio's breath quickened. This was a battlefield of legends. Warriors from different eras, each more powerful and dangerous than the last. But his attention kept pulling back to Yuna. She still stood there, unmoving, her face hidden beneath the hood. He couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't her. Not truly.
Then two more figures emerged. First came Joan of Arc, her armor gleaming with ethereal light, every step radiating a divine strength. Her unwavering gaze was filled with purpose, a holy flame burning in her eyes as she gripped a sword wreathed in golden energy. Then, from the shadows, a chilling presence slithered into view—Jack the Ripper, shrouded in dark mist, his jagged grin barely visible beneath his hood. His form flickered between reality and something far darker, his cold eyes glinting as they locked onto Akio, that twisted smile widening as if he held a secret only he knew.
And finally, Valen, the leader of Shadows, emerged. He took off his hoodie, revealing his hair, a striking mix of green and white, flowing in the wind. Akio's heart raced as he saw a familiar face—one that he hadn't expected to see in this forsaken place. The face belonged to none other than Kaito, the last person Akio had seen before everything descended into chaos. A surge of confusion and unease coursed through him. How could Kaito be here, in the Shattered Veil?
Akio grit his teeth.
Valen's voice echoed across the arena, breaking through the oppressive silence. "Let the first round of the Tournament of the Shattered Veil begin! Fate and power shall be your only allies. Choose your enemies wisely."
The arena shifted, as if the very fabric of space was bending, distorting. The ground cracked, and fragments of other realities swirled into view, forming a series of chaotic battlefields within the larger arena.
The matchups began to solidify:
Leonidas versus Simo Häyhä
Musashi versus Kojiro,
Lu Bu versus Khalid
Jack the Ripper versus Joan of Arc
Valen versus Kaito
Akio's heart pounded. He was the one who had to fight Yuna. In a way he was relieved, he would be able to knock her out. The other fighters might end up killing her and so it was ok.
"Akio," Valen's voice whispered in his ear, though the man stood across the arena. "Your fight is just beginning."
Akio steeled himself. His eyes locked onto Yuna once more. He couldn't afford to hesitate. Not now. If she was under the control of some dark force... then he would find a way to break through. He wouldn't lose her again.