The old man stood at a distance, watching. Calculating. His wrinkled fingers gripped his war maul, knuckles whitening as he weighed his options.

  Dovak rolled his shoulders, shaking off dust and debris as he took his place beside Nigel. Together, they braced for another attack.

  The old warrior finally made his decision. He charged.

  Nigel and Dovak readied themselves—feet planted, grips tightening around their weapons.

  Then, just as the old man closed the distance—

  A building flew straight into him.

  The impact was instant. Bone and stone crunched together, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Dead before he could even swing.

  Nigel barely had time to react before another massive chunk of debris hurtled toward them. Too fast to dodge.

  Dovak threw away his greatsword.

  Flexing his legs, he exhaled, planting his feet in place. Nigel could only watch.

  The moment the rock reached them, Dovak met it head-on with his fist.

  The force of the punch shattered the stone into a thousand fragments.

  Tiny shards rained around them, scattering like glass.

  Dovak blinked, looked at Nigel and winked with a wide grin "Debt repaid."

  Nigel barely seemed to hear him. He mumbled something under his breath, eyes distant, before suddenly snapping back to focus.

  "Stay alert."

  Elsewhere, William swallowed hard. "Uh… I don’t think splitting up was such a good idea."

  "Silence." Claire’s voice was sharp. "I make the decisions. Divide and conquer. Besides, I need you to guide me. I can fight just fine, but I can’t navigate blind."

  William rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean… yeah, okay."

  Then—trouble.

  Two figures emerged.

  One wore a metal mask shaped into a sorrowful frown. The other bore a matching grin.

  Between them, they held a single weapon—a long, segmented chain, with a grip at each end.

  William’s stomach twisted. "...This looks bad."

  Claire’s hands tensed. "I can feel it. That’s a Twin Chain."

  "A what?"

  Before he could finish the thought, Claire shoved him to the ground. A whirling blur of metal sliced through the air where his head had just been.

  "Stay sharp!" Claire barked.

  Her exoskeleton pulsed, releasing a shockwave that knocked back the incoming chain strikes.

  The masked men didn’t falter. They surged forward, aiming to trap Claire in their weapon’s coils.

  But she was faster.

  Ducking, weaving, she evaded each attempt with machine-like precision. Then—a counterattack. Charging her left arm, she lunged at the sorrowful-masked man. A direct strike to the face.

  She never landed the hit.

  The chain snaked around her wrist, tightening like a python. Before she could break free, they yanked—slamming her into the ground.

  William panicked.

  Rushing in, he swung wildly at the grinning masked man—only for the chain to wrap around his leg.

  Pain exploded up his calf as the pressure threatened to snap the bone. Tears blurred his vision. But he refused to give up.

  Reaching deep, he focused. His wristband displayed a message.

  [NULLIFICATION ACTIVATED]

  The moment his palm touched the chain, its energy flickered—vanishing.

  The masked man hesitated.

  William gritted his teeth. It worked. Even through the pain, he raised his knife. Shaking, exhausted—but ready to fight.

  Claire took the opening.

  Her opponent never even saw her coming.

  A single, ruthless strike. The sorrowful-masked man collapsed into the dirt, unmoving.

  The last remaining attacker turned just in time to see Claire standing over his fallen partner. For the first time since the tournament began, her helmet was gone.

  Fiery red hair. Freckles. and glowing, orange eyes. Not human.

  William barely breathed.

  Claire smirked.

  "Now the fun starts."

  Then—she vanished.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  One moment she was still. The next—she was upon him.

  Her movements were mesmerizing. Mechanical, yet fluid.

  Every motion—every twist, every kick, every strike—was a seamless harmony between human instinct and machine precision.

  One decisive hit. And the mask shattered.

  For the first time, the masked man’s face was revealed.

  Eyes wide.

  Full of terror.

  Two hits. Both arms—useless.

  Three hits. Right leg—immobilized.

  And the fourth—a brutal strike to the chest.

  His ribcage collapsed inward, lungs crushed beyond repair. For a few agonizing seconds, he struggled to breathe—then, his body dissolved into dust, leaving behind a Diamantine.

  Claire let out a shaky breath. “Damn… still not used to Overload.”

  Her exoskeleton’s orange glow faded back to silver.

  William took a slow step forward. "What… was that?"

  She rubbed her temples. "I forced my exoskeleton past its normal limits. Gave myself a strength boost, but—"

  A sudden, sharp gasp cut her off. Her body seized up.

  “Claire?” William took another step.

  She clutched at her eyes, gritting her teeth.

  “My helmet—quickly!”

  William grabbed it off the ground and pressed it into her hands. She snapped it on, locking it into place. For a long moment, she simply breathed.

  Finally, she exhaled. “…That was close.”

  William stared at her, concerned. “What just happened?”

  Claire straightened, her tone eerily casual. “Exposure to open air burns my eyes. Not a big deal.”

  “…That’s not normal,” William muttered. “Is it a—”

  “Yes, it’s a condition,” she cut in. “Not important right now.”

  William frowned. He wanted to press further, but now wasn’t the time.

  Claire took a deep breath. “We need more Diamantines.”

  William sighed. “Yeah, yeah… let’s go.”

  They set off again, searching for more participants to hunt. They never got the chance.

  The ground trembled beneath them. Buildings shifted, the cityscape twisting and reshaping itself, and thick wall of dust erupted into the air, obscuring their vision.

  As they stumbled through the chaos, they weren’t alone.

  Dozens of participants crashed into them, thrown together by the unpredictable movement.

  Then, finally—stillness.

  When the dust settled, William coughed into his sleeve. “…Where the hell are we?”

  A familiar voice answered.

  “Claire? William?”

  Dovak.

  Emerging from the haze, he grinned at them.

  “Guess we’re all back together again—whether we like it or not.”

  “Seems that way,” Nigel added, stepping into view.

  Claire rubbed her visor, though it was useless. “What just happened?”

  Nigel exchanged a look with Dovak.

  “No clue.” Dovak crossed his arms. “One second we were fighting—next thing I know, the city starts moving, and we get thrown into this mess.”

  Nigel frowned, glancing at their surroundings. “…Something’s coming.”

  They all felt it. Something big. Something final.

  The First Stage of the Tournament of Chaos was about to end.

  “Congratulations on making it this far!” a woman in red floating above them announced, her voice booming with theatrical cheer. “Your efforts have earned you the right to witness a final surprise event!”

  A sudden rumble spread through the ground.

  All around them, glowing blue particles gathered and began to coalesce—shaping themselves into dozens of crystalline forms. Diamantines.

  Gasps rippled through the crowd as the air grew tense.

  “Before you, stand all remaining participants and teams,” the woman continued. “Whoever reaches fifty Diamantines first will advance to the next Stage—and receive a bonus of one hundred thousand credits per team member!”

  The offer echoed like a bell in a slaughterhouse.

  “Remember,” she added with a grin, “credits can be exchanged for armor, weapons, and valuable resources in the later Stages of the Tournament!”

  “It’s like a damn advertisement,” Dovak muttered under his breath.

  But the woman was already raising her hand.

  “Let the final event… begin!”

  With a sweeping motion, she brought her arm down, and a massive horn blared through the arena.

  Then… nothing. No one moved. Every participant stood frozen, eyes darting, calculating, waiting. The tension was suffocating. No one wanted to be the first to charge. No one wanted to be the first to die.

  Claire, Dovak, William, and Nigel instinctively moved into a tight circle, standing back-to-back.

  “This is… really not good,” William said, his voice shaking.

  “How many Diamantines do we still need?” Dovak asked.

  “Sixteen,” Claire answered, scanning the enemy teams.

  Nigel remained quiet, his gaze fixed on the surrounding competitors. Four teams were already watching them—eyes sharp, bloodthirsty. Their weapons twitched with anticipation, wicked grins spreading across their faces.

  They wanted blood. Nigel knew what was coming. And he knew what had to be done.

  He exhaled through his nose.

  “Get behind me. Wait for them to make the first move.”

  “What? Are you planning to serve us up on a silver platter?” Claire snapped.

  “Tr—just trust me,” he said, stumbling over the word as if it were foreign on his tongue.

  William didn’t hesitate. “Alright.”

  Dovak grinned, sliding into position. “If you’re about to pull off something crazy, I wanna see it up close.”

  Claire hesitated, eyes narrowing. Then, reluctantly, she moved behind him. “Fine. But if this goes to hell, don’t expect me to save you.”

  Nigel didn’t answer.

  His focus was elsewhere.

  And the battlefield was about to burn.

  Dovak grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

  William let out a slow breath, settling into position. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was just as eager to see what Nigel had planned.

  Nigel scanned the battlefield, locking onto as many enemies as he could. He knew that skill would leave him completely drained—he had to make it count.

  With a deep inhale, he activated it.

  A hot gust of wind rippled through the area before thick, crimson liquid seeped from the ground, rising into the air and shaping itself into dozens of blood-red spears.

  William’s eyes widened. That was not just raw power—it required great control.

  He glanced at Nigel’s wrist, expecting the bracelet’s display to show the skill’s name, but there was nothing.

  Nigel’s veins bulged grotesquely, his sclera flooded red from burst blood vessels. His amber eyes burned with an eerie glow.

  The battlefield fell silent. The other teams had halted, frozen in place as dozens of spears hovered above them, aimed directly at their heads and hearts. No one was stupid enough to make the first move.

  "L-listen..." Nigel’s voice came out strained, choked. "The... moment I let this loose... r-run and grab the... D-Diamantines... fast..."

  Dovak grinned, lowering into a sprinter’s stance. "On your signal, boss."

  Nigel clenched his jaw, his entire body trembling under the strain. Then—he exhaled.

  The spears condensed further. With a sharp motion, he dropped his arm.

  The blood-red lances shot forward.

  Some barely scraped past their targets, while others pierced through bodies effortlessly, cutting through flesh and bone as if they were paper.

  A chorus of screams filled the air, but Nigel wasn’t watching. His vision blurred. His legs buckled.

  Dovak, Claire, and William rushed into the chaos, sweeping up as many Diamantines as possible while fending off the remaining participants.

  "Fourteen left!" Dovak called out, slamming a man into the ground and snatching two gleaming gems.

  "Ten!" Claire followed, knocking out another pair of opponents.

  "And now six!" Dovak cheered, dodging an attack.

  William was locked in a desperate clash with a one-armed fighter, the man roaring in fury as he swung wildly despite his injuries.

  "Three!" Claire shouted, her adrenaline-fueled grin widening.

  "One more!" Dovak bellowed.

  But then—

  They forgot about Nigel in the heat of the moment.

  He had collapsed to his knees the instant his skill was unleashed. His vision flickered, darkening. His body refused to move. He could barely even hold his weapon.

  Then, in the chaos, he saw it.

  A barbaric-looking man barreling toward him, greatsword raised high, charging straight for his neck.

  "Got it! The last one!" William’s voice rang out, triumphant.

  The blade cut through the air. It never reached Nigel’s throat.

  Nigel closed his eyes. A black vortex swallowed them whole. The woman in red floated above them once more, beaming.

  "Congratulations! Nigel Lowell, Dovak Anir, Claire Miles, and William Stoneswood! You are the winners of this event! One hundred thousand credits each—and you officially advance to the Second Stage of the Chaos Tournament!"

  They had done it.

  A well-earned rest awaited them after so much chaos.