The silver Knight

He bent his knees slightly, his posture deliberate. The air seemed to tense around him as he prepared. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he launched himself upward. It wasn't just a leap—it was a declaration of dominance. The force of his jump sent a sharp gust across the void, scattering loose debris.

Jaxor ascended swiftly, the power of his movement carrying him higher and higher. Those below watched as his figure grew smaller, eventually vanishing into the darkness above. There was no doubt in anyone's mind—Jaxor would reach the top. Of that, they were certain.

"Seems like you've managed to make it this far," Zane remarked, casting a sharp glance at Giro. His tone was edged with challenge. "Don't disappoint me." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and moved forward, his steps deliberate. Three figures followed closely behind, their loyalty evident in their silent presence.

"Boss," one of them said, breaking the quiet. "Deb's been eliminated."

Zane didn't stop walking. He barely reacted. "Heh," he muttered, a hint of amusement curling his lips. "Means we'll just have to hire another guy to take his place." His voice was casual, dismissive, as if Deb's failure had been expected.

"Word is, his opponent was Jaxor," the second man added, a note of caution in his voice.

That made Zane pause. He turned slightly, his smirk sharp as a blade. "He can't defeat Jaxor," Zane said, as though it were an obvious truth. "If I hadn't pulled that little trick to get the 893rd ID, I'd have been Number 2 myself." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his smirk widening at the memory of his cunning.

"Why not Number 1?" the third man asked, his tone curious, almost challenging.

Zane stopped fully now, turning to face them. His smirk didn't falter. It deepened, becoming something colder. He let the question hang in the air, his silence its own kind of answer. Then, with a shrug that seemed to dismiss the idea entirely, he continued forward, his men falling into step behind him.

"There's no way!" Zane said, his smirk fading into something colder, more deliberate. "Number 1 is a master of the dark veil. He's beyond anything we're capable of." He paused, his gaze sharp, as if weighing his next words. "And I'm not a master of the dark veil. Not yet."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with unspoken ambition. Then, almost casually, Zane's tone shifted. "But," he said, producing a card from his hand, the edges worn and marked with a skull crowned in jagged gold. He held it up for a moment before it dissolved into nothingness, vanishing like smoke into the void. "I got something interesting from the last guy I killed. A trick worth learning."

The other three men exchanged glances, the faintest smiles tugging at their lips. Around them, the air thickened, shadows deepening as their presence seemed to radiate a purplish glow, the unmistakable signature of the dark veil. It clung to them like smoke, like oil, marking them as something apart from the rest.

Without another word, they moved, ascending into the void. It wasn't a struggle, nor even an effort. They flew upwards with a quiet ease, as if the final round was beneath them, as if they had already passed, their confidence unshakable and their destination inevitable.

Giro moved forward, his hands weaving through the air with practiced ease. From his fingers, a cloud—or something like it—took form, a white mist that lingered just above the ground. It shimmered faintly, the edges blurred, as if it didn't belong to this world. He jumped onto it with a fluid grace, his body melding into the strange, ethereal substance.

"Let's go, Rina-chan!" he called, his voice light, almost teasing.

Raze, however, wasn't as confident. He took a step back, eyes scanning the mist warily. "Sorry, friend," he muttered, glancing at Rina. "My veil doesn't fly like yours." He fixed his gaze on her, his voice urging. "You too—come on! All three of us can make it. Giro will handle it, somehow."

Giro shot them both a sharp look, his expression suddenly serious. "Hey," he warned, "if we struggle mid-air, we all die."

Rina's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a smile that was more cold than amused. "Die? In that case," she said, stepping away, "I won't come." Her voice was firm, final.

Giro, still floating on his cloud, exhaled sharply, the weight of the moment sinking in. They were all moving toward something, but the path was anything but certain.

"Don't worry, we'll push Raze down together," Giro said, a grin tugging at his lips as he glanced over at Rina. She stepped into the misty veil, though there was a hesitation in her movement, a doubt lingering in her eyes.

Giro ascended, his body already rising with the faintest shimmer of his veil, a ghostly presence in the air. "Rai! Remember how you used your veil to cross the bridge! We'll be waiting up ahead!" His voice carried up, cutting through the stillness.

Rai and Kaizen exchanged a look, their understanding unspoken but clear. The problem was evident: Kaizen, like Raze, couldn't fly, and Rai… Rai could barely manage himself. The task ahead was monumental.

"I guess I'll have to push past my limits," Rai muttered, his gaze locked on Kaizen. "I'll piggyback you."

Kaizen, ever the optimist, nodded. "I'll climb the walls!"

Rai's lips tightened, his eyes narrowing. He knew Kaizen was blabbering. "I'm not going an inch without you," Rai said, his voice firm. The two locked eyes, the unspoken promise hanging between them. Moments later, Kaizen was perched on Rai's back, his weight shifting as Rai's legs trembled under the strain.

"So, how are we getting up there?" Kaizen asked, his tone skeptical, as if the whole notion was absurd.

Rai's eyes steeled with determination. "Wait and see," he replied, his grip tightening on the weapon in his hand. He passed it to Kaizen, who took it, his fingers instinctively curling around the wooden handle.

"I didn't think you were the type to rely on such primitive tools," Kaizen said with a dry chuckle, eyeing the crude weapon, the jagged edge catching the dim light.

"Just hold it. Hand it to me when I say," Rai instructed, his voice a low murmur, the urgency of their situation clear. They both knew the climb was more than just physical—it was a test of endurance, of will. And they weren't sure yet whether they had enough of either to succeed.

Rai steadied himself, his hands extending downward, his fingers brushing the cold, icy floor. He remembered how Hydrorina had used both her hands, drawing on the strength of her veil, amplifying its power. With a quiet resolve, he mimicked the motion, pulling his hands close together. A faint crackling sound filled the air as bright white beams, thick with force, sprang from his palms, shooting toward the ground.

The moment the beams struck the ice, a surge of energy shot through Rai, propelling him and Kaizen upward with violent force. The ground fell away beneath them, a blur of white, as the beam's power continued to push them higher. Rai's teeth clenched as the force of the ascent pressed against his chest, but his mind was clear, his focus narrowing to the task ahead.

At a certain point, the beam's power waned, but it didn't matter. They continued rising, a few feet more with each moment, as if the very air around them was bending to their will. Rai's breath came in shallow gasps, his body tensing, but the upward motion seemed inevitable now—unstoppable.

It wasn't until the beam's energy faltered, its pulse faint, that Rai hesitated. He could feel the weight of the moment settle on him. Kaizen remained silent, his grip firm, his eyes locked on the path ahead. They were still ascending, the beam's lingering push carrying them upward, like a ship caught in a current, its course already set.

Rai's hand hovered near Kaizen's face, his fingers poised with purpose. With a subtle movement, Kaizen handed the weapon over, and Rai's grip tightened around its wooden handle. The weight of it settled in his palms, and he swung it down sharply. In one fluid motion, he channeled the remaining strength of his veil, injecting it into the weapon.

For a moment, there was no outward sign of anything happening—just the silent tension hanging in the air. Then, as if the weapon itself was drawing on an invisible force, the beam erupted from the tip. It wasn't the weapon that summoned it, but Rai's own concentrated power. His weakened state didn't matter now; his resolve did.

The beam pulsed, erratic, struggling to stay contained, its energy flickering in wild waves. It broke free, lurching downward with unstoppable force, heading for the ground below. Rai didn't need to look to know the impact would be immense—he could feel the power in the air. His gaze, however, remained fixed on the direction of the beam, the ground below lost to them in the blur of ascent.

They were suspended in that strange in-between space, the ground not beneath them but above, a surreal twist of perspective. Familiar faces, like fragments of a past life, flashed by, their eyes gazing down from above.