The silver Knight

All the candidates who had been lying on the icy ground stood up as the instructor's words echoed in the air: "Round 2." Some trembled, biting their nails. Others, however, remained as still as statues, indifferent, as though they could handle anything.

The scattered candidates began to move toward the instructor at the sound of his clap. In the center of the place stood Number 1, isolated, with no one daring to approach. Except for Number 3. Number 3 looked identical to Number 1—except smaller. Together, they moved slowly, deliberately, toward the instructor.

The species of Number 1 and Number 3 was anyone's guess. On the far side of the plane, there stood a frozen tree. Zane, sprawled lazily on a branch like it was his personal bed, had a jumbo cigar dangling from his lips. His eyes were closed, but he opened them slowly, sensing that Round 2 was nearing. With a nonchalant flick of his black hair and his kimono swirling in the air, he dropped to the icy ground and began walking toward the instructor.

Rai, followed closely by Giro, Kaizen, and Raze, made their way over as well. The noise of footsteps from behind them caught Giro's attention. His eyes widened, a bead of sweat slipping from his chin. "It's him...!" he muttered, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Rai's chest tightened as he turned toward the man who had struck him. "It's the guy covered in red! Wait—on closer inspection... it's all blood."

The tall man was drenched in blood from head to toe, his wrists gleaming gold against the crimson backdrop. The number 2 was emblazoned on his wrist. Blood dripped from him, leaving red footprints on the ice as he advanced toward the gathering crowd.

"So, it's Number 2," Giro barked, his voice trembling. "What the hell did he do?"

"Don't tell me..." Rai whispered, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The crowd parted as Number 2 approached, people leaping out of his way like frightened animals. Number 2 brushed past Rai, Giro, Kaizen, and Raze, his eyes cold, blood still dripping from them, his smile never wavering. He moved past Zane without a word. Zane's lips twitched into a smirk as he watched Number 2 cross in front of him. Finally, Number 2 positioned himself between Number 1 and 3, the two black figures towering over the lone red one between them.

Then, there was the instructor. A palpable sense of murderous intent seemed to emanate from Number 2 as he lifted his hand, his fingers stretching toward the instructor. The instructor stood motionless, his hands behind his back, unwavering.

As Number 2 fully extended his hand, the air seemed to still. Everyone collectively held their breath.

"Hey! Can I wash myself before Round 2?" Number 2's voice broke the tension, and a collective sigh of relief passed through the crowd.

"Of course," the instructor replied, calm as ever. "Number 12!" he called out.

A girl with long, flowing light blue hair stepped forward, her every movement graceful yet commanding. She wore a form-fitting sleeveless blue shirt that hugged her toned figure, the fabric stretching slightly across her curves. Her dark blue skirt clung to her hips, rising just high enough to show off her legs, which were long and smooth. With a confident stride, she approached Number 2, her gaze steady, exuding an air of quiet allure. 'Yes, sir?' she asked the instructor, her voice soft yet undeniable.

"Please use your veil on Jaxor Quin."

She nodded, raised her hand, and with a single gesture, a wave of water surged over Jaxor, washing the blood from his body. As the water receded, it became clear that Jaxor wore nothing but a torn pant, the fabric ripped on one side, exposing his fit physique. He glanced at the girl, his smile as unshakable as ever, his eyes calculating. "Thank you!" he said with mock sincerity before crouching down. He tore the other side of his pants to match the first, revealing even more of his toned legs. "Now it's perfect!"

The girl, blushing and slightly unsettled, walked away.

Then, a man with the number 67 on his chest stepped forward, his face drenched in sweat. His voice shook as he called out to Jaxor. "Hey, you! How did you make it?"

Jaxor turned slowly, his smile widening as he met the man's gaze. "Of course, I swam here!" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The man pointed at another, numbered 34. "Is that true?"

Jaxor's grin stretched even wider. "What did he say?"

"He said..." The man hesitated, trembling. "He said that after half an hour, you..." He stopped, swallowed, fear creeping into his voice.

The instructor's voice cut through the air. "Everyone, Round 2 will begin in fifteen minutes!" He paused, his gaze lingering on the crowd. "And if you want to see what this man has done... well, I'll show you! But brace yourselves!"

A screen, translucent and suspended in the air, flickered to life. It was a disembodied thing, a ghost of light and shadow, casting a strange illumination over the gathered crowd. The image that materialized was Jaxor, poised on the edge of the second bridge. The scene was desolate, save for the dark shapes of sharks circling beneath him, their movements a silent, ominous ballet in the depths.

The surface of the water began to crack, fractures spreading like a web, the edges of the ice crumbling under the pressure. A moment of quiet before the chaos. The cracks widened, and the water surged upward, slashing through the gaps.

Jaxor leapt, his body fluid and precise, and the sharks followed. He rose into the air, suspended for a moment in time. Below him, three sharks exploded from the surface, jaws snapping as they rushed toward him. They moved with frightening purpose, closing in, but Jaxor was ready. In a single, seamless motion, his hands swept through the air. The sharks' bodies twisted mid-flight, cleaved in perfect synchronization, the heads soaring upwards, the tails plummeting downward.

The crowd watched, breath held, as the wind roared in all directions, the severed bodies of the sharks tumbling through the air. In the water below, the remaining sharks attacked the fallen, tearing them apart with savage efficiency. Their eyes, a deep, unnatural red, glinted with a single-minded hunger as they turned their gaze toward Jaxor.

Number 34, drenched from the waist down, had been watching from the water's edge. His body shook with fear, and his instinct was to flee. He turned, his feet taking him toward the third bridge, but he didn't move far. He stopped, frozen, watching in horror. The air around him seemed to thicken, the tension rising.

Jaxor descended toward the water, his motion almost deliberate, like a predator entering his own domain. As he fell, the ice layer above shattered completely, sending shards of frozen ground into the depths. He was swallowed by the water, disappearing into the chaos.

The sharks closed in again, their numbers seemingly endless. But Jaxor, with calm precision, met them head-on. His hands moved, cutting through the water and flesh with brutal grace. The sharks, though numerous, were no match for his fluidity. He sliced and slashed, his body a red blur amidst the frenzy. As one shark lunged, its jaws snapping open to consume him, Jaxor didn't flinch. He simply entered the mouth, and within moments, the creature exploded into pieces, its body disintegrating in an instant.

And then, without pause, Jaxor surged downward. A rocket's speed. A fall into the void, calculated, purposeful. Who would fall into the abyss with such intent? Jaxor did, as though he knew exactly what lay below. His body collided with the body of a shark, slicing through it effortlessly as he plunged deeper into the ocean's depths.

The cold, vast water surged around him as he surged forward, a red figure cutting through the depths with chilling determination.

Jaxor, eyes still fixed on the screen, muttered to himself, a thin smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Now, the real part begins... heh heh heh."

The words fell like a stone into the quiet room, the air thickening with the shock of his declaration. The crowd around him froze, disbelief etched on every face. "What? You did more than this?!"

The screen flickered off without warning, leaving a lingering silence that hummed in the air. Rai, who had been watching intently, his eyes wide and still absorbing the sight, was now lost in thought. He could already feel the shift, the unsettling sense of what was coming next. Giro glanced at him, sharing the same understanding, but Rai remained distant, his gaze fixed, unwavering.

"Hey, Rai!" Giro's voice cut through the tension.

But there was no answer. Rai was lost, consumed by what he had just witnessed.

A shadow fell over them both. Kaizen stood there, at the back, his presence looming over them, his arm casually draped around Raze.

"This guy wants to fight him," Kaizen remarked, his voice low but filled with quiet certainty, as he pointed at Raze.

Giro's fist clenched, a flash of irritation seeping through his calm exterior. His hand shot up to his face, a visible steam rising from his ears. "NO! Kaizen! Don't you dare leave him!"

Raze, standing there with a self-satisfied smirk, raised his voice, the challenge clear in his words. "Hey, Shark Slayer! Come try slashing me!" His tone was cocky, almost mocking, but there was something more—an edge to it that promised danger.

Giro moved swiftly, his hand placed firmly over Raze's mouth, cutting him off before any more words could escape.

Rai, still processing the gravity of the situation, snapped back into focus. His voice, when it came, was urgent. "Hey! He's dangerous! His power is on another level." His gaze locked on Kaizen and Giro, both of them nodding in silent agreement.

A shout broke the brief silence from the crowd. "Why did you turn it off?!"

The instructor's voice, cold and commanding, answered without hesitation. "It's time for your round two."

Slowly, almost deliberately, the instructor began to rise, lifting into the air with the same smooth motion as before, his figure cutting a stark silhouette against the backdrop of the room.

The entire group felt the chill settle in, an unsettling tension spreading like wildfire through their bones. This wasn't just another round. This was something else entirely.