Match 3: Saigo vs. Velmin, Ayumi & Ferina – The Weight of Legacy
Saigo stood before the trio, his usually stoic face etched with profound conflict. "Familiar faces... too familiar." His gaze locked onto Ayumi. "Do you understand the gravity of standing against Aryavarta? Against me?"
Ayumi met his stare, resolve hardening her tear-stained eyes. "I understand perfectly."
Saigo's focus shifted to the weathered warrior beside her. "Mr. Velmin... I never imagined facing you." The title carried decades of reverence.
(Flashback: The Mentor and His Sons)
A younger Saigo, raw and angry, faced Velmin across a training ground. Velmin wasn't just a teacher; he was the anchor Saigo desperately needed. Velmin saw potential beneath the rage. Years later, Velmin brought home a small, wide-eyed boy – Ledger. "Your brother now," Velmin declared. Saigo, hesitant at first, soon doted on the child. Ledger became Velmin's second treasure, Saigo his first. Velmin, a man without biological children, poured his heart into his adopted sons. News of Ledger's murder shattered him. His world reduced to ash and vengeance.
(Present)
"Don't fight, Mr. Velmin," Saigo pleaded, voice thick. "I mourn Ledger too. He was my brother."
Velmin's eyes, usually kind, burned with cold fire. "You mourn? Then tell me, Saigo, do you know who orchestrated his death?" He stepped forward, his aura radiating grief and fury. "I care nothing for Nero or Aryavarta's politics. I seek only the blood of the ones who killed my son. Step aside."
"Tell me who it is," Saigo demanded.
"Arata and Fernando," Velmin stated, each name a curse. "Do you accept this? If so, stand down."
(Saigo's Torment)
Two pillars held Saigo's loyalty: Velmin, the father-figure who saved him, and Fernando, the king who lifted him from the gutter, funding his rise. The accusation tore him in two.
Saigo shook his head, denial written on his face. Ayumi stepped forward. "It's true! Fernando planned everything!"
Saigo's expression hardened into contempt. "A woman's word means nothing." The ingrained hatred, a festering wound from his past, surfaced.
(The Scar That Never Healed: Saigo's Origin)
A luxurious mansion. A young Saigo, trusting and bright. His closest friend, a girl from a rival family, pointed a trembling finger. "He... he attacked me!" The lie, crafted for wealth and power, destroyed him. His own family, believing the accusation, turned savage. He and his mother were dragged out, beaten mercilessly. His mother shielded him with her body, taking the brunt.
"Mom! I swear to God, I didn't do it! Please believe me!" Little Saigo sobbed, cradled in her weakening arms.
"I know, my son... I believe you... I love you..." Her body went limp. The one person who believed him was gone, killed by a lie. Saigo's world shattered into darkness and hatred for all women. Watching from the heavens, Varuna, God of the Wind, wept. A blessing of unparalleled power flowed into the broken boy, ensuring no one would ever dominate him again. But the darkness festered. He became an assassin, a shadow, until Velmin found him and offered a second chance at light. He kept his vow to Velmin: never kill a woman. But trust them? Never.
(Present Battlefield)
Velmin turned to Ayumi and Ferina, his voice grave. "Stay back. Saigo shows no mercy to women in battle. He will kill you if you get close."
Velmin lunged. Saigo didn't counter. A shimmering shield of wind materialized, absorbing the blow. He stood resolute, taking the impact. I cannot raise my hand against my father. I'd rather die.
Velmin phased through the shield, a technique he'd taught Saigo, and struck his face. The blow rocked Saigo, but he didn't retaliate. Velmin knew Saigo was faster, stronger – yet the boy refused to fight.
"Is this all I taught you?!" Velmin roared, striking again. "OPEN YOUR EYES! FERNANDO IS THE MONSTER BEHIND IT ALL!" Blow after blow rained down. Saigo defended, parried, absorbed – but never attacked. His shield flickered, his body trembled under the assault of the man he loved as a father, but his resolve held: I will not strike him.
Match 4: Arata vs. Keisuke & Yoshito w/ Dark Calamity – Dance of the Blades
(Writer's Note: The clash you've been waiting for!)
Arata strolled through the infinite whiteness, impeccably dressed in his royal suit, a picture of bored elegance. "Fascinating place," he mused aloud. "Thousands of kilometers flown... and not a soul? How tediously vast."
"Not vast enough to hide from us, 'old buddy'," Keisuke's voice cut through the silence, laced with cold fury.
Arata froze. He hadn't sensed them. Not a whisper of presence. Then, searing pain lanced through his left hand. He looked down. Half of it was gone, severed cleanly. Keisuke and Yoshito stood before him, the Dark Calamity a swirling vortex of shadow behind them, Yoshito's blade – Melvolent of Hunting Spirits – dripping ethereal ichor.
Arata chuckled, inspecting his regenerating hand. "My, my! You two have improved. Truly impressive." He flashed a dazzling, predatory smile. "How about becoming my disciples? Don't hesitate – it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The primary benefit? I'll spare your lives."
Keisuke smirked at Yoshito. "Some things never change."
They moved. Blurs of lethal intent. Arata's body became a canvas for their vengeance – sliced, diced, severed. Pieces scattered across the plain before reforming.
"He dead?" Yoshito asked, breathing slightly heavy.
"Creatures like him?" Keisuke replied, eyes locked on the reforming figure. "They don't die easy."
Arata reappeared, suit immaculate, his composure slightly ruffled. How are they this fast? Even my eyes struggle to track them... Then he remembered: Yoshito's Dimensional Steps, folding space itself; Keisuke's Hyper Senses, perceiving the infinitesimal. Ah. That explains the speed.
"But boys," Arata sighed, dusting off his sleeve as another flurry of cuts bisected him, "it's a thousand years too early to think you can finish me." In a move faster than thought, he materialized between them, hands snapping out. He caught their blades mid-swing. A surge of monstrous power erupted from his core.
BOOOOOOM!
The shockwave blasted Keisuke and Yoshito like ragdolls, sending them skidding miles across the astral plain, the Dark Calamity howling in protest.
Arata strolled towards the impact craters, his royal suit untouched, his devastating beauty contrasting the violence. "What now? Don't tell me that's all you brought?" he purred, disappointment lacing his voice. "I expected more from Nero's chosen."
Yoshito rose, gripping the Melvolent of Hunting Spirits. The blade hummed with spectral energy, hunting spirits swirling around its edge. Keisuke stood beside him, closing his eyes. The air thickened. Countless spectral swords materialized above him, blades pointing down like a storm of death – the Blind Eyes Infinite Sword Technique. The very fabric of the Plain of Infinity seemed to hold its breath. The real fight was about to begin.