The Lights dim...A drumroll begins...and the tournament stage glows with flashing spotlights! The announcer steps forward, microphone in hand, voice echoing through the arena.
ANNOUNCER:
"Ladies and gentlemen, warriors and spectators, welcome to the grand stage of competition! The battles have been fierce, the clashes unforgettable, and now, only eight remain! These are the contenders who have conquered their foes and carved their names into the battlefield. Each one stands on the brink of greatness, but only one will seize the ultimate victory! Let's meet our top 8!"
[The stage lights shift, highlighting each competitor as their name is called.]
March 7th – The Indomitable Challenger!
"Bright, bold, and never backing down! March fights with an energy that refuses to be snuffed out!"
Clara – The Innocent Storm!
"A girl of kindness, yet holds unwavering power! Will she have what it takes to stand against the best of the best?"
Ayaka – The Frostborn Elegance!
"Refined yet ready, graceful yet unyielding! Kamisato Ayaka dances across the battlefield like a frozen tempest, her blade as sharp as her ambition!"
Seele – The Phantom Butterfly!
"Faster than the eye can follow, deadlier than a shadow's whisper! Seele's attacks are relentless, her movements like a ghost on the wind. Blink, and you just might miss your chance to fight back!"
Boothill – The Unstoppable Gunslinger!
"A lawman of chaos, a duelist without equal! Boothill's bullets don't miss, and neither does his sense for a fight. The Wild West meets the ultimate battlefield!"
Yanqing – The Blades' Prodigy!
"A master of the sword despite his youth! Yanqing's blade work is art in motion, his focus razor-sharp. Underestimate him, and you'll find yourself cut down before you can react!"
Ayato – The Shogun's Strategist!
"Cunning, composed, and always ten steps ahead! Ayato fights with the precision of a chess master, every move calculated, every strike a checkmate in waiting!"
Argenti – The Radiant Knight!
"A warrior clad in brilliance, a force of unshakable conviction! Argenti stands as a shining beacon of battle, overwhelming his foes with sheer majesty and might!"
"GOOOOO MARCH!!! GOOOO AYAKA!!! WOOOOO!" Kevin yelled out from the stands.
"Stop being so loud!!" Firefly slapped Kevin's neck with irritation.
"YOWCH!" Kevin yelped
Yuri merely sighed and shook his head.
Yuri glanced back at the arena floor's as he looked over everybody standing in the arena. Yuri took notice of Boothill's eye's seemingly being glued towards him.
Yuri did not say anything as he merely kept his stare pointed towards Boothill.
Boothill's smirk only grew larger as he merely tipped his hat down and walked off the arena as the first fight was set to be announced.
"WELCOME TO THE TOP 8! I AM PROUD TO INTRODUCE TO YOU...THE FIRST FIGHT OF THE TOP 8...IS..."
Ayaka versus March 7th!
"Those two facing each other huh?...I'm excited." Yuri smiled.
"I would have preferred if they didn't face each other but...I am curious about the results!" Firefly also smiled as she responded.
Meanwhile, Kevin merely feigned tears as he stared down at the floor.
"Why...me..."
The grand arena was filled with the murmurs of an eager crowd, the air thick with excitement. At the center of the battlefield stood two warriors, each a master in her own right.
On one side, Kamisato Ayaka, stood with poise and grace. Clad in her elegant kimono, her fan-like sword resting lightly in her grip, she was the very image of noble refinement. Her icy eyes gleamed with determination, her voice calm but resolute.
"March, we are friends, and it is with great respect that I stand against you. But for my honor, I must ensure that this victory becomes a testament to my strength."
Opposing her was March 7th. She had a clonfident smirk as she twirled her bow and readied her arrows of crystalline ice. Her pink hair bounced as she stared directly at Ayaka with determination sparking in her bright eyes.
"Ayaka, I admire your resolve and your strength, but that just means I have to fight even harder! No matter what, I'm winning this!" she declared, her voice ringing with confidence.
With the signal to begin, both warriors lunged forward. Ayaka glided across the battlefield, her movements as fluid as water, her katana cutting through the air with lethal precision. March, in contrast, fought dynamically, dodging with acrobatics and unleashing barrages of icy projectiles, forcing Ayaka to stay on her toes.
Ayaka spun mid-air, her blade releasing a wave of frost that sent a chilling mist across the field. March countered, raising an icy barrier that absorbed the strike before shattering into a flurry of shards. She fired back, her bowstring glowing as she sent a freezing arrow hurtling toward Ayaka. The noble swordswoman vanished in a blur of speed, reappearing behind March in a burst of icy wind, forcing the latter to roll aside at the last second.
The battle raged on, neither combatant yielding. March kept up a relentless assault, using her shield to deflect Ayaka's swift strikes, while Ayaka responded with elegant, calculated counters, chipping away at March's defenses. Their ice clashed, the arena becoming a shimmering battlefield of frost and mist.
March suddenly leapt into the air, firing a rapid volley of arrows infused with her icy energy. Ayaka dashed between them, her form a blur as she sidestepped and deflected the projectiles mid-motion. With a burst of speed, she closed the gap, her blade slashing down. March twisted her shield up just in time, absorbing the blow before swinging it outward, forcing Ayaka back.
Seizing the moment, March lunged forward, slamming her shield down in an attempt to stagger Ayaka. The swordswoman, however, effortlessly stepped to the side, her katana sweeping in an upward arc, sending a wave of cold energy that coated March's shield in frost. The impact made her arm tremble, but she gritted her teeth and pressed forward, spinning and launching another arrow at point-blank range. Ayaka barely managed to redirect it with the flat of her blade, the icy projectile shattering into sparkling shards around them.
Their fight continued, growing fiercer by the second. March took the offensive, rapidly switching between firing arrows and delivering shield bashes. Ayaka, in turn, weaved through the strikes with effortless grace, countering with swift, elegant slashes that forced March to stay on the defensive. Both warriors displayed their mastery, their movements like an intricate dance of ice and steel.
Ayaka feinted left before pivoting sharply, delivering a devastating downward slash. March raised her shield, but the force of the strike sent her skidding backward. She dug her heels in, breathing heavily but refusing to fall. Determined, she unleashed her ultimate move—her bow glowing as she formed a massive crystalline arrow, the tip radiating frost. With all her strength, she released it, the arrow cutting through the air like a comet.
Ayaka exhaled calmly, her stance tightening. Just as the arrow neared, she vanished in a burst of icy mist, reappearing in front of March with a sudden, precise strike. March gasped as her bow was knocked from her grip, the cold edge of Ayaka's blade resting lightly against her shoulder.
The duel had been won.
March fell to her knees, panting but smiling. She looked up at Ayaka, eyes shining with admiration and warmth.
"Wow, you really got me there," she chuckled, shaking her head. "That was amazing, Ayaka. You totally deserve that win."
Ayaka extended a hand, a soft smile gracing her lips.
The winner is Ayaka Kamisato!
Among the spectators, three figures stood up and clapped enthusiastically. Firefly, Kevin, and Yuri were all on their feet, cheering for both warriors.
Yuri smiled brightly, her hands coming together in a proud applause. "That was an incredible fight! You both gave it your all!"
Firefly, her eyes sparkling with excitement, cheered loudly. "You two were amazing! That was the coolest thing ever! I'm so happy for both of you!"
Kevin, meanwhile, wiped at his eyes dramatically, feigning tears. "March... my champion...I wanted you to win so badly..." he sniffled, before breaking into a grin. "But, hey, Ayaka, that was absolutely incredible. I can't even be mad. What a fight! Both of you are so awesome!"
Laughter and warmth spread among the group, their admiration for each other shining through. The battle had been fierce, but it was still great to see one of them move onto Top 4!
Meanwhile...Backstage...
The air backstage was thick with anticipation, the muffled roar of the tournament crowd filtering through the stone walls.
Ayato sat on a wooden bench, methodically wrapping his fingers with cloth.
Every movement was precise, measured—just as he had been trained. His katana rested beside him, a silent guardian awaiting its call to action.
He exhaled slowly, centering himself. The stage was set, and he would not falter.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots disrupted his solitude.
"Damn, I gotta say, I never expected to see the mighty lord himself like you slumming it back here," a voice sneered.
Ayato didn't have to look up to recognize the owner of that drawl.
Boothill.
The cowboy sauntered forward, hands tucked lazily into his belt, his smirk practically dripping with amusement. "Ain't it funny? All dolled up, sittin' here like some noble knight gettin' ready for battle. Makes me wonder—do ya actually believe in all that honor crap, or is it just for show?"
Ayato's fingers stilled for the briefest moment before he resumed his work. "I don't engage in pointless provocations," he replied coolly. "If you've come to waste time, I suggest finding someone else to pester."
Boothill chuckled, tipping his hat back. "Oh, I ain't wastin' time. Just passin' it. Can't help but be curious 'bout a man like you. All serious, all restrained. I gotta ask—what's it like livin' with that stick so far up your ass?"
Ayato's grip on the cloth tightened ever so slightly. "You have a talent for being insufferable."
"Aw, don't be like that, Lord Kamisato," Boothill teased. "You're wound up tighter than a noose. Maybe that's why I hear your lil' sister's the real fighter in the family."
Ayato's gaze snapped to Boothill, cold and razor-sharp. "Tread carefully."
Boothill grinned, as if he'd been waiting for exactly that reaction. "Touchy subject, huh? Look, I ain't sayin' she ain't strong. Hell, she's got more guts than most. But it's gotta sting, knowin' she's out there takin' risks while you play the dutiful lord. Almost like she's fightin' for somethin' more real than that fancy 'honor' you keep talkin' about."
Ayata's gaze of anger was focused onto Boothill. "We both fight for honor you ignorant fool. We both fight with purpose, while you fight for sport like a naive brat."
Boothill only laughed at the response. "Oh Sure! She does fight for honor just like you do...but she's got more of a grand purpose to it compared to you...You're so desperate to feel loved and wanted by the people and yet...Ayaka still outdoes you in that regard! You call me a naive brat who fights for sport? I love fightin' for myself! You do it just because you want to impress other's like a little boy playing with his toys!"
Ayata's intensity flared to its last straw,
"I've had enough of you!-"
"Good. You've held him up long enough."
Ayato's anger suddenly dissipated as his focus was now shifted to the voice that had emerged rather suddenly.
A slow, creeping chill settled in the air. Boothill turned slightly, stepping aside as another figure emerged from the shadows.
A young man with blond hair, his presence deliberate, his steps unnervingly calm. His red eyes met Ayato's, their gleam carrying something unreadable—something dangerous.
"Lord Kamisato," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "You hold yourself with such discipline. Such conviction."
Ayato studied him carefully. "And you are?"
The young man ignored the question entirely, instead tilting his head slightly. "Tell me… how much do you value your strength? Your honor?"
Ayato's brow furrowed, but he remained composed. "They are the foundation of my existence."
A flicker of amusement crossed the young man's face. "Are they? Or are they merely the chains you refuse to break?"
A silence stretched between them, the weight of the question hanging in the air. For the first time, Ayato felt something unfamiliar creeping into his mind—doubt.
"They call ya a lord...but if we're both being honest..." Boothill showcased a rare display of annoyance.
"You could never shine the boots that I wear partner..."
"You..." Ayato grimaced.
The young man smiled, sensing the shift. Then, after a moment, he asked the final question.
"How much do you really understand, Lord Kamisato?"
Ayato glanced back at the young man.
"I know enough. I don't need two devil's on my shoulder."
The young man laughed—low, sinister, and lingering like an omen.
The young blonde-haired man merely glanced at Lord Kamisato with a thick, sinister, smile.
"Why would you need a devil when you can merely become one?"