The silver Knight

Giro approached the black object, his steps faltering as if the weight of the room pressed against his very soul. His breath was shallow, his hand trembling, but he forced himself forward. He turned his gaze to Number 1, who watched him impassively, and without ceremony, Giro cast his veil onto the black mass. The moment it connected, he pulled back hastily, like a child touching a flame for the first time. He retreated, his shoulders tight, the black object absorbing his offering without reaction.

Then it was Zane's turn. He stepped forward with the air of someone who had been waiting for this moment all along, his smirk like a hidden blade glinting in the faint light. His gaze lingered on the black object, then shifted to Number 1, as if weighing something unseen.

Zane raised a hand, deliberate and confident. Dark tendrils of his veil coiled outward, spiraling toward Number 1. The air shifted immediately—thick, oppressive, and electric with malice. The hall darkened, its edges consumed by swirling shadows, the purple-black hues twisting like living smoke. The suffocating pressure bore down on everyone present, forcing coughs from the crowd. Metal clattered against the ice floor, sharp and jarring, though no one could see its source in the chaos.

When the darkness cleared, the hall returned to its cold, stark reality. The candidates looked around, bewildered, their faces pale from the brief but terrifying disturbance. There, in the middle of the room, Zane stood calm and unruffled, a cup of coffee cradled in his hand like a prize.

He walked forward with unhurried steps, passing by Rai, Giro, and Raze, each of whom stood frozen in shock. They had seen the suffocating power of Zane's veil and yet could do nothing as he strolled past, his smirk still etched onto his face.

Kaizen had yet to make his move, standing at the edge of the scene, his silence as heavy as the dark veil that had just consumed the room.

"What now? Will Kaizen be eliminated?" Giro's voice cracked, his eyes fixed on the curling plumes of steam rising from the ground. The coffee had spilled across the icy floor, pooling and hissing in the sudden cold. The enormous bucket responsible lay overturned, a monument to chaos.

"So the collision of darkness causes a blast, huh?" Raze muttered, his tone more curious than concerned. "Interesting." His gaze lingered on the dissipating steam, as if calculating the mechanics of what they had just witnessed.

"Hmmm…" Rai's voice cut through the tension, calm and measured, his eyes locked on Number 3. The figure remained as still as a statue, their expression inscrutable. "Kaizen won't be eliminated. It's not our fault."

The words carried weight, but Rai's tone made them seem like an indisputable truth rather than a hopeful guess. His gaze flicked briefly to Number 1, who stood alongside Number 3, their stances rigid, unshaken by the mess before them. They were like silent sentinels, unmoving, their faces as cold as the ice around them.

Rai frowned, searching for some hint of reaction, but neither of them so much as blinked. Number 3 stood exactly as they had before, as though the steaming ground, the overturned bucket, and the sharp tang of burnt coffee in the air were all irrelevant.

"Not a word. Not a flinch," Rai said quietly, almost to himself, his breath visible in the frosty air. He looked down at the dark puddle spreading at their feet and then at Kaizen, who stood in the middle of it all, his figure still imposing despite the absurdity of the situation.

Kaizen moved forward, his presence like a storm sweeping through the room. He loomed before Number 1, his shadow swallowing the smaller figure entirely. If it had been anyone else standing there, their knees would have buckled under the weight of his sheer intensity. His face was dark, the dim light catching only his eyes—sharp, unyielding, and deadly.

The fumes rising from his body curled and twisted as though alive, drawn irresistibly toward the black object in Number 1's hand. The strange thing absorbed them, pulsing faintly, and without a word, Kaizen turned.

He crossed the room in heavy, deliberate steps, each one echoing in the tense silence. When he stopped in front of Number 3, he did not speak. He simply stared. Number 3, unfazed, raised a hand and pointed toward the floor, where the spilled coffee still steamed in thin rivulets across the icy surface.

Kaizen didn't react. His gaze didn't falter. He remained locked onto Number 3, unblinking, unreadable. From the corner, Giro edged back instinctively, his breath catching as he glanced toward the others. At the far end of the room, Zane lingered in the shadows, watching with a quiet smirk. Overhead, on the top floor, Jaxor leaned on the railing, his figure outlined against the dim light as he observed the unfolding scene.

The air felt thick, pressing down on everyone in the room. Something was coming. It was in the silence, in the stillness, in the way Kaizen finally turned and walked to the spot Number 3 had indicated.

The others sensed it too—the meaning behind Number 3's gesture. They didn't need words to understand. 

"No, Kaizen, stop!" Rai's voice cut through the thick air, sharp and urgent.

Kaizen didn't turn, didn't even flinch. His eyes were fixed on the metallic bucket before him, where a few dark drops of coffee still clung to the bottom. Slowly, he bent, his hand closing around the bucket's handle.

Giro let out a shaky breath, his hand pressed to his chest. "Good. At least now Kaizen can drink it and end this madness," he said, relief softening his voice.

But Kaizen wasn't finished. He straightened, the bucket dangling from his grip, and then, with deliberate precision, set it back down on the icy ground. The coffee remained untouched.

"What is he doing?" Giro stepped forward, confusion flaring into panic. "Kaizen! If you don't drink it, you'll be disqualified!" His voice rose, his urgency spilling into the stillness like a ripple in a pond.

But before he could take another step, Raze's arm shot out, blocking his path. It was a firm, unyielding barrier, and Giro froze, staring up at Raze's face. The flame in Raze's eyes wasn't one of anger, but something colder—determination tempered with understanding.

"Giro, stop!" Raze's voice cracked, sharp and uncharacteristically panicked, his wide eyes fixed on Kaizen. For the first time, he seemed to grasp something deeper than either Rai or Giro could see.

"What's he doing?" Rai demanded, his confusion laced with frustration. His gaze flicked between Raze and Kaizen, searching for answers that wouldn't come. "I don't understand—what is he trying to do?"

Raze didn't respond immediately. His hand stayed firm against Giro's chest, holding him back, but his attention was locked on Kaizen. The tension in the air seemed to gather around him, drawing tighter with every passing second. Something unspoken hovered just out of reach, a realization that neither Rai nor Giro could touch.

Kaizen, silent and unreadable, stood like a statue carved from stone, his presence commanding and inscrutable. Whatever was about to happen, they seemed to get a grasp of it and it terrified him.

Kaizen's body radiated pure, unrelenting heat. His veil flared wildly, distorting the air like a furnace unleashed in the dead of winter. The icy floor beneath him hissed and cracked as steam surged upward, the frozen ground struggling to contain his raw, overwhelming energy.

Without a word, Kaizen dropped to one knee. His movements were slow, deliberate, and animalistic—like a predator marking its territory. His palm slammed onto the steaming floor with a resounding thud, sending a shockwave through the room. His head lowered, and then, with the intensity of a beast in its prime, his tongue lapped up the scalding coffee from the ice.

Every muscle in his body rippled with precision, his veins bulging under the strain of his overwhelming aura. His entire posture screamed defiance—an act of dominance that transcended reason.

"Kaizen… What the hell are you doing?" Rai murmured, his voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and awe.

A sharp, eerie grin spread across Number 3's face. The man didn't flinch, didn't blink—his teeth gleamed as he stood still, relishing the spectacle before him. It was the grin of someone witnessing something beyond human.

Above, Jaxor's eyes widened, his pupils dilating as a primal excitement overtook him. "Yes... YES!" he roared, his voice booming as he launched himself from the upper floor. He landed with the force of a boulder, ice shattering beneath his feet, his grin stretching ear to ear.

Zane, always composed, felt his breath catch. His usual smirk faded into a cold, razor-sharp glare. "What is this guy?" he muttered under his breath, his focus now locked entirely on Kaizen. His instincts screamed danger, and for the first time, he felt the weight of Kaizen's presence bearing down on him.

The room vibrated with the tension of battle-ready energy. Every gaze bore into Kaizen, who stood there, unmoving, his act of consuming the coffee transforming into a declaration: Ill do whatever it takes...

The girl with "12" on her wrist stepped forward with an air of determination. Her eyes locked onto the overturned bucket, the faint glimmer of coffee still lingering at its bottom. Without hesitation, she grabbed it, tilted it back, and drank the remnants in a single, fluid motion. Coffee dripped down her neck in glistening trails, catching the light like liquid gold.

The room fell silent as she moved toward Kaizen. Her crimson-tinged gaze met his, her expression resolute but grateful. "Thanks," she said simply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Kaizen didn't move, his dark glare fixed on her like a storm ready to erupt. She lingered for a moment, then turned and walked away, her steps steady, her blue hair swaying behind her as if carried by the current of her conviction.

Kaizen remained kneeling, his fuming veil swirling faintly in the aftermath of his silent sacrifice. Everyone in the room felt it—the weight of what he had done. This wasn't a clash of pride; it was something deeper. Kaizen had knelt so she wouldn't have to. Every eye in the room reflected the gravity of his choice.

Some ran, unable to bear that they should do the same to pass the round , their shame palpable as they fled. Others stepped forward, drawn in by the sheer force of his resolve, their hearts ignited with a new purpose. The ice around them seemed to melt, not from the heat, but from the sheer fire of Kaizen's spirit.

The sunlight streamed through the open door, cutting a golden path through the dim, steaming room. In the distance, the girl's blue hair flickered like a beacon as she disappeared into the village streets. Near the doorway, two shadowy figures paused briefly—Jaxor and Zane. They exchanged a wordless glance, their rivalry reignited, before vanishing into the sunlight like specters.

Rai stood for a moment, taking in the scene—the weight of Kaizen's actions still heavy in the air. "Let's go," he said, his voice quieter than usual. He and the others followed, their steps measured, their resolve strengthened, as they too exited the room and stepped into the light.