The audience was completely stunned.
Small whispers rippled through the stands:
"How did he do it?" "How could he?" "That's unacceptable…"
The secretary leaned in, voice low.
"Mr. Wayne…?"
Wayne let out a slow breath, hands clasping together so tightly his knuckles blanched.
"I know. I know…"
He sighed—a long, frustrated exhale that sank into the hush around them.
"…What a double loss."
Then Mr. Wayne raised his voice, sharp and carrying over the settling quiet.
"Hayasaka, Junior! Get over here—now."
Ren pushed off the railing without hesitation, her steps measured as she made her way toward him.
But Grek didn't move. He stood rooted in place, eyes locked on his own hands, still dusted with crumbling black fragments.
The first-aid paramedics hurried onto the arena floor, their expressions tight.
They didn't rush as if to save him—just moved with a grim, practiced care.
They lifted what remained of Elliot's body, not in hope of aid, but simply because it felt like the last human thing to do.
Up in the stands, the little boy clutched his mother's sleeve, voice trembling.
"M-Mom… Mom, what happened to Dad?"
Elliot's wife stared at the arena, her face drained of color.
She didn't answer. Didn't even seem to hear him.
Ren approached the special seats where the league leader sat, her footsteps unhurried but deliberate.
In the commentator's booth, realization flickered across the announcer's face.
He cleared his throat, voice echoing through the arena:
"Ah—Contestant Fifteen… Grek Junior—please proceed to Mr. Wayne's platform."
Grek didn't react. His gaze stayed fixed on the dark smears coating his palms.
At last, Grek finally stirred.
He moved as if in a trance, each step stiff and unsteady—like a puppet with its strings half-cut.
His eyes never lifted from his hands, shock hollowing his face as he walked toward Mr. Wayne.
Wayne rose slowly from his chair, shoulders tense.
Beside him, his secretary watched in silence, eyes fixed on him with an unreadable look.
He stepped down toward the ring, boots echoing on the platform.
At last, he came to a stop between Ren and Grek, the two of them standing on either side of him—one composed, the other hollow-eyed.
Wayne took the microphone in both hands. His voice, when it came, was steady but edged with something tired.
"Ladies and gentlemen… I apologize for the interruption."
have something important to address regarding Contestant Number Seven… Ren."
Wayne's gaze shifted to her, and for the first time, a flicker of disappointment crossed his features.
"She stole Contestant Elliot Cinder's rubber ability. And in doing so, she violated Rule Number Nine—Do not interfere with active matches in any way."
A tense murmur rippled through the stands.
"Her interference directly led to Grek Junior's attack—an attack that, without her sabotage, would not have ended in… this."
He let that sink in before continuing, his voice low and final.
"Therefore, effective immediately—Ren is banned from signing up for any official League matches…for the next twenty years."
Wayne eased back into his chair, the microphone resting in his lap.
The secretary leaned close, voice pitched low.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," Wayne replied without looking up. "I'm positive."
His fingers drummed once against the armrest.
"…What a loss of talent. Especially in this era"
"Me? I'm banned?" Ren's voice cracked up into the stands, incredulous. "How?"
All around her, the audience erupted in furious shouts:
"Ooooo!!""Get out of here!!""Murderer!"
For a moment, she looked as though she might protest again—but then her face emptied of any pretense of concern.
She turned away, her steps unhurried, cold.
Just before she reached the exit tunnel, she paused.
Her gaze locked onto Fez, steady and unreadable—a look that held no pity, no apology, only something dark and assessing.
Then, without another word, she vanished into the shadows beyond the archway.
Then—suddenly—like a radio crackling back to life, ZEF's voice whispered into the hollow quiet around Fez.
He made a mistake
Fez's head jerked up, eyes wide.
"…Oh—you're here?"
He still doesn't know what waits for him ZEF's voice murmured, low and edged with something almost like pity.
"Letting a girl like that walk away… She's more dangerous than a double-edged sword."
A hush settled over Fez as the words lingered in his mind.
You'll all see
ZEF's last words faded, dissolving into the air like smoke.
That's how villains are born