The sound of the first exchanged strike still echoed through the ruined city simulation like a hammer blow inside a hollow cathedral of steel.

  It vibrated through the metal plates beneath Z-69’s boots, traveled up the fractured walls, and resonated under the neon sky that buzzed overhead like an electronic heartbeat.

  The floor—made of hyper-compressed alloy—still trembled faintly, rippling outward along the path the two combatants had carved through the battlefield with a single collision.

  Red and violet neon from the fractured holo-panels painted jagged shadows across the broken alleyways, giving the impression that Z-69 and Jin were standing not in a simulation, but inside some half-collapsed dreamscape.

  At their feet, a smoking trench carved by the first exchange stretched all the way from Z-69’s toes to the metallic “foundation” of a three-story ruined structure.

  The torn metal curled up like ribbons peeled off by a giant blade.

  Lumina clung tightly to Z-69’s shoulder, her silver tail fluffed out like an alarmed squirrel.

  “That guy is way, way faster than the drones yesterday,” she hissed, her voice trembling through their psychic link. “I’m serious, Z-69—this speed is cheating. It feels wrong!”

  “Yeah,” Z-69 murmured, shifting his stance slightly. “Not just faster. He’s… consistent. His speed doesn’t break his movements.”

  That was the part that concerned him.

  Speed was dangerous.

  Sustained speed was lethal.

  Jin stood about three meters away, relaxed, seemingly unfazed by the exchange.

  He didn’t pant.

  He didn’t sweat.

  He didn’t even raise his guard.

  His eyes gleamed with the casual indifference of a man who had cut down a hundred lives and forgotten ninety-nine of them.

  “Not bad,” Jin remarked, rolling his shoulders with lazy confidence. “At least you didn’t die instantly. That’s already better than half the contestants this year.”

  The calmness wasn’t arrogance.

  It was experience.

  That made it worse.

  Z-69 shifted his weight, dropping his center of gravity.

  His foot pivoted lightly on cracked metal, the motion fluid—effortless—like water flowing between rocks.

  His body remembered things his brain no longer did.

  Even without memory, the stance felt comfortable, familiar.

  Like he had stood this way for lifetimes.

  Jin noticed.

  “Oh? You’re settling into stance now?” His grin widened, revealing sharp teeth. “Good. I like opponents who warm up.”

  “Let’s continue.” Z-69 replied, tone even, blade tilting downward slightly.

  Jin vanished.

  No—he detonated.

  A burst of wind exploded in his place, sharp enough to shred loose debris.

  A shockwave slammed into Z-69’s chest armor.

  Z-69’s instincts screamed.

  He twisted—Clang!

  A blade—Jin’s fingers hardened into a cutting edge—scraped against the Heaven-Sundering Short Blade.

  The sparks were violet and white, scattering into the alley like fleeing fireflies.

  Lumina yelped in his mind.

  “He’s behind—no, left—no—Z-69!! I can’t track him!! He’s everywhere!”

  “Quiet.” Z-69 muttered internally, shifting his gaze slightly.

  A whisper of displaced air warned him—He ducked.

  A cut sliced across where his head had been a heartbeat earlier.

  Had he reacted a fraction later, half his skull would’ve been minced.

  Jin flickered back into view, landing lightly several meters away.

  He didn’t stand—he floated into each movement like a dancer skipping steps on a collapsing stage.

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  “Your reflexes are fun,” Jin said, voice smooth, almost appreciative. “But not enough.”

  He blurred again—faster.

  Z-69’s blade swept horizontally.

  He hit nothing but air.

  Jin came from the opposite side—slash!

  A thin slice appeared across Z-69’s shoulder armor.

  Lumina’s voice cracked in panic.

  “Z—blood! That’s blood!! I saw thick red blood!!”

  A small stream trickled beneath the armor and dripped onto the metallic floor.

  Z-69 touched the wound briefly.

  Not deep.

  But warm.

  Hot.

  The crystal in his chest pulsed sharply—a thud like a heart made of lightning waking up.

  He leapt backward twice, landing inside a narrow alleyway formed by two half-collapsed structures.

  The shadows swallowed him partially, limiting the angles Jin could approach from.

  Lumina flattened her ears.

  “What are you doing?! This is a dead end!”

  “No,” Z-69 replied. “Narrow space. Limited approaches. Fewer attack vectors.”

  He didn’t smile, but there was a calm certainty in his voice.

  Just as predicted—Jin shot into the alley like a bullet fired from a railgun.

  His speed was frightening, but the limited space forced his movement into predictable lines.

  Predictable—not slow.

  Z-69’s blade moved—crack!

  A brilliant arc of violet lightning split the darkness.

  Slash!!

  Jin twisted, dodging most of it—but not all.

  A long rip tore through his coat, and a shallow red line appeared across his shoulder.

  Jin skidded backward.

  For the first time, his expression changed.

  “…You saw me?”

  Z-69 shook his head.

  “I don’t need to see.”

  The electricity in his eyes crackled.

  “I can feel you.”

  Jin stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.

  Then—Jin grinned, wide and sharp.

  “Interesting.”

  The stands went insane.

  “HE HIT HIM!!!”

  “JIN’S BLEEDING?! WHAT THE HELL—?!”

  “69 IS READING A SPEEDSTER? IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!”

  Jin wiped the thin line of blood with the back of his hand.

  His posture lowered.

  His expression sharpened.

  “…Alright,” he murmured. “Then let’s raise the difficulty.”

  He tapped a device on his neck—click!

  A nano-needle injected something into his bloodstream.

  Dark violet veins surfaced under his skin, glowing faintly like corrupted circuits.

  The air around him began to distort from sheer kinetic pressure.

  Lumina’s tail puffed up.

  “What the hell is THAT? That’s not human juice!”

  “Stimulant,” Z-69 replied. “A dangerous one.”

  “Dangerous for HIM or YOU?!”

  “Let’s see.” Z-69 calmly replied.

  Before Lumina could scream again, Jin vanished—but this time, he didn’t blur.

  He erased the space between steps.

  Z-69 couldn’t see anything.

  Only impacts—

  thud!

  slash!

  crack!

  bang!

  His ribs were slammed.

  His leg was kicked out.

  His arm was sliced again—deeper this time.

  Z-69 fell to one knee.

  Lumina shrieked inside his mind:

  “THE MEAT! THE MEAT!! EAT IT BEFORE YOU GO HUNGER!!”

  “Not yet.” Z-69 growled through clenched teeth.

  Because if he ate it now—he wouldn’t control anything that came after.

  A breath.

  Another pulse from the crystal.

  Heat crawling up his throat.

  Jin’s voice whispered right beside his ear:

  “Too slow.”

  A killing blow was coming.

  Z-69 twisted, blocking with the flat of his blade—and the feedback shocked his bones.

  Lightning flared outward.

  Jin backflipped away, landing gracefully.

  Z-69 exhaled sharply.

  He needed something—anything—to read the movement.

  A memory surfaced.

  Not visual.

  Not auditory.

  A feeling.

  A single vibration of instinct, echoing from a time when he was not this broken, fragmented creature.

  A whisper:

  Don’t look at the speed.

  Feel the intention.

  Z-69 closed his eyes.

  Lumina nearly exploded.

  “ARE YOU INSANE?!! THIS ISN’T A MEDITATION RETREAT—!!”

  “I’m feeling it.” Z-69 murmured.

  He inhaled.

  And suddenly—the wind shifted.

  Ever so slightly.

  To the left.

  A hint of pressure.

  A static buildup like the moment before lightning strikes.

  Z-69 moved.

  He opened his eyes.

  They glowed violet.

  “Here.”

  Jin appeared behind him at maximum speed—But Z-69 was already turning.

  He pivoted, lowered his body—and swung the blade with the flat edge.

  BOOOOOOOM!!!

  A burst of concentrated violet lightning slammed directly into Jin’s torso.

  Jin’s eyes widened.

  His body jerked violently, limbs spasming.

  He crashed through the air—rolled three times—and smashed into the metallic wall of the ruined building simulation.

  Dust exploded outward.

  The entire arena went silent for a heartbeat.

  Then erupted like a nuclear detonation.

  “WHAT WAS THAT?!”

  “HE COUNTERED A SPEEDSTER!!”

  “NO WAY—NO DAMN WAY—!!”

  Z-69 stood unmoving in the center of the ruined alley.

  Blade lowered.

  Lightning humming along its edge.

  Lumina collapsed onto his shoulder, gasping.

  “Huuuh… Huuuh… My tiny fox heart can’t handle this…”

  Jin groaned, pushing himself upright.

  His legs shook.

  His breath trembled.

  Blood dripped from his nose, staining the ground in thin streaks.

  But his smile—was real.

  “…You—” he whispered, wiping his mouth. “You can… read my movement.”

  “Not read,” Z-69 corrected softly. “Feel.”

  Jin laughed breathlessly.

  “First time someone blocked me while I’m doped. First time someone sent me flying… while I was at max acceleration.”

  He staggered.

  “Next time… no doping. Just you and me. Your instincts… my pure speed…”

  Z-69 nodded.

  “Next time.”

  Jin grinned—Then fell face-first into the dirt.

  Unconscious.

  The MC robot lifted its massive arm.

  “MATCH OVER.“

  “WINNER: CONTESTANT NUMBER 69.”

  “ADVANCING TO NEXT ROUND.”

  The arena exploded.

  “69!! 69!! 69!!”

  “That silver-haired monster did it AGAIN!!!”

  “BET ALL YOUR POINTS ON HIM, NOW!!!”

  But Z-69 didn’t hear them.

  Because his chest crystal pulsed violently—And then his wrist monitor flashed RED.

  Lumina screamed:

  “HUNGER ALERT! HUNGER ALERT!! MEAT!! NOW!!”

  Z-69 opened the foil packet and devoured the high-energy meat strips like swallowing molten metal.

  Heat dropped.

  Crystal pulsed slower.

  Red → orange → yellow → green.

  Lumina slumped forward, exhausted, fur trembling.

  “Please… don’t do that again… my heart is going to molt…”

  Z-69 patted her head awkwardly.

  “Sorry.”

  Up on the stands—someone else had been watching quietly.

  Elise.

  She leaned against the railing, her dark coat fluttering, neon-pink hair shining like a dangerous beacon in the crowd.

  Her single eye glowed—keen, amused, calculating.

  Her voice was too soft to hear over the crowd, but her lips shaped the words anyway:

  “Good. Don’t kill your opponents…you’ll need allies later.”

  She smirked.

  “And I want to see… how far you can fall or rise, Z-69.”

  Then she disappeared into the shadows.

  Down below, Z-69 stood in the middle of the neon storm, his blade still humming with remnants of lightning.

  Lumina nuzzled his cheek lightly.

  “You’re alive…”

  “Yes.”

  “And you won.”

  “Yes.”

  “So… what now?”

  Z-69 looked toward the arena’s far exit, where cold white lights flickered like the gaze of something ancient and hungry.

  “Now… we wait for the next match.”

  His blade glowed faintly.

  The storm in his chest steadied—For now.