Mono adjusted the fabric of his tunic, fingers grazing the slip tucked into his sash as he stepped out into the morning air. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting stretched shadows across the stone yard where fighters were gathering, some with jittery energy, others with quiet focus.
The assembly was packed, voices overlapping, bodies shifting. Fighters stood in small clusters, checking their gear, whispering tactics, stretching stiff muscles as they waited. Mono hadn't expected the sheer size of the crowd—hundreds of competitors, all here for the same reason.
His slip—723—was just a number among all the others, meaningless except to confirm he was part of this. Renji, standing next to him, tapped his own slip against his wrist, glancing over briefly. His was 722, meaning they had been assigned the same waiting area before stepping onto the field.
Mono exhaled, letting his eyes drift toward the massive entrance leading to the competition grounds. There were four regular arenas, massive structures meant for the main tournament fights, each one carefully designed for different combat styles—open spaces for mobility, reinforced stonework for endurance, inner platforms for more controlled matches.
But past all of that, beyond the usual staging areas, one arena stood apart.
It was huge, noticeably larger than the others, stretching wide enough that it looked like it could swallow half the assembly. Its walls loomed taller than the rest, reinforced in a way that suggested it had been built specifically to handle chaos.
Fighters had begun moving toward it, some more eagerly than others. There were murmurs about strategy, discussion over teaming up, but mostly, there was quiet determination. The rule was simple—last 128 standing move on.
It wasn't about winning individual fights. It was about surviving them.
Mono rolled his shoulders as he walked forward, Renji stepping beside him, both keeping pace with the moving crowd. Others passed them, some focused, others too distracted by their own thoughts to notice who they walked beside.
As they neared the entrance, Mono noticed subtle shifts in movement—competitors slowing, eyes darting from one another, studying potential threats before the chaos even began. This wasn't the usual confidence seen in spars. This was careful calculation.
Renji adjusted the strap on his sleeve, his expression unreadable. Mono knew better than to assume Renji was completely at ease—he was simply experienced enough to mask whatever he was thinking.
"You planning to pick fights early?" Mono murmured, keeping his voice low.
Renji exhaled lightly, almost amused. "Only if necessary."
Mono nodded once. He wasn't planning on diving straight in either—not without knowing the terrain.
They stepped under the towering arch that led into the arena itself, and the sheer scale of it became staggering up close. The ground was solid stone but wide, leaving enough space for free movement. Platforms were scattered throughout, some raised slightly higher, others positioned like strategic stepping points.
Mono scanned the space quickly—there was enough room to maneuver, but there were no safe zones. Everywhere was open, exposed. The moment things started, there wouldn't be time to hesitate.
The wave of fighters continued pushing in, filling every corner of the space, adjusting their stances, checking their surroundings. Mono spotted competitors near the far end exchanging quiet words—likely setting up temporary alliances before the signal. Others were alone, arms folded, studying the scene with narrowed eyes.
A group near the center tested movements against the stone flooring, making sure there were no weak spots before committing to positions. It was methodical, measured—the kind of awareness that meant some of them had thought through their strategies before they even arrived.
Mono could feel the pressure, and it wasn't just from himself—it was in the air, settling over everyone in the space.
Renji remained calm beside him, hands loosely at his sides, not tense but ready. Mono caught glimpses of familiar faces across the arena, people he had seen in passing, some who had exchanged words with him before today.
He shifted slightly, stretching his fingers absently as he scanned the far end of the space.
Then, the arena gates slammed shut behind them.
A long silence stretched through the fighters.
Mono's breath was slow, measured. This wasn't training. This wasn't preparation. This was real.
Renji glanced at him briefly, but before either could say anything, the announcer's voice rang out through the arena, clear and unwavering.
"Let the tournament… begin!"