Chapter 9: Birthright to Freedom Part I
"Some were born to kneel. I was born to rise.â
Day 231 of the Twelvefold Cycle
Era of Concordance, Year 812 | Flamerest (September) | Afternoon
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Ruki woke in a deep sweat, her chest rising and falling too fast for comfort. Her ears twitched against the pillow, straining instinctively at every sound.
Something felt⦠wrong.
The linen clung damp to her skin, her tail knotted around the covers. She lay still, trying to get her bearings. The walls around her were polished cedar panels, warm in the morning light, and the single window framed a sliver of the Black Fang streets below bustling carts, the flash of merchant banners, and the distant calls of hawkers drifting up through the air. A faint creak came from the far side of the room, soft, deliberate, like someone tiptoeing across the wooden floorboards.
Her hand tensed beneath the blankets, ready to spring. The air carried the scent of lavender and cedar from the bedding, but also something fresher, a crisp breeze slipping in from the cracked window. Down below, muted through the floorboards, the distant ring of mugs and the murmur of voices rose from the Whining Moonâs tavern.
It felt⦠familiar. Friendly. Not a threat.
Her vision blinked, and the UI burst into life before her eyes.
> [SYSTEM INTERFACE]
>
> Time Elapsed Since Last Consciousness: 26 Hours, 14 Minutes
>
> Condition: Mana fully restored. Health restored. Status effects cleared.
>
> Note: Extended unconsciousness detected, cause: severe mana depletion.
Her stomach sank. A full day? That had never happened outside of logging out in Untold Eternity.
She flexed her fingers and drew a slow breath, testing herself. Her body felt⦠light. Mana pulsed beneath her skin like a warm tide, humming in every vein. It wasnât just restored, it was almost overflowing, a strange pressure that made her fingers twitch with unused energy. Her bond with Mar-Mar stirred in her mind, but only faintly, a slow, steady rhythm like deep sleep. Still dormant.
Losing a day without planning for it was the kind of blunder that cost wars. For a tactician, it was the equivalent of walking into a battle with the map upside down.
Before she could decide whether to sit up or fake sleep, a voice broke the silence.
âFinally awake?â
Ruki turned her head. Selene stood by the small dresser, folding a neatly laundered stack of clothes that hadnât been there before. A faint scent of jasmine trailed from her as she moved, her braid resting over one shoulder, gold bangles glinting at her wrists with each motion. Her other hand held a thick, folded broadsheet, the kind printed on coarse, enchanted parchment that didnât smudge with use.
Ruki pushed herself up slowly, her mind still reeling. âHow long was I?â
âOut? A day and change,â Selene said, not missing a fold as she placed the clothes on the dresser. âCouldâve been worse. Ethel was ready to call a priest.â
She crossed the room and set the broadsheet on the side table, right where Ruki couldnât miss it. Across the top in bold gold-inked letters was the title
> The VelâShadow Gazette â Truth Between the Lines
Beneath the masthead, a massive sketch rendering of her face stared back at her, lightning still crackling in the air around her form.
âFront page,â Selene said, pulling the chair from the corner and sitting like she meant to stay. âSouth Gate incident. Youâre a star in half the district right now. Probably a menace in the other half.â
Ruki stared at the headline.
> BEASTKIN GIRL DEFIES SYNDICATE AT SOUTH GATE
Then let her eyes drift down the column, half-skimming the words. A merchant scandal. Syndicate arrests. Grain shortages. Her gaze snagged on a block of gold-inked letters halfway down the page.
The Trials of the Elders Return to Black Fang
Her breath caught. Sheâd walked those arena sands before, not here, but in Untold Eternity. Back then, the Trials had been a single brutal PvP match, a straight fight until one side fell. This⦠was different. The article laid out three distinct stages, each deadlier than the last, and included prisoner matches, mercenary contracts, and even clauses for death-row combatants.
Her eyes narrowed. She knew exactly why the contract rule caught her attention in the game. Infamous players who racked up enough negative fame couldnât enter certain towns without being hunted. The one way to clear it? Step into the arena, survive three matches, and walk out clean. Sheâd done it before. And now? If the same system applied here, she could turn the arenaâs own rules into a weapon. Let herself be âcapturedâ under the eventâs jurisdiction, bypass Victor entirely, and fight on her terms.
âWhat is this doing here?â she asked, though she already knew the answer. âAnd⦠where are the others? The goblin girl, Kaelira?â
Selene smirked faintly. âAnnual combat tournament. Adventurers, mercs, death row prisoners from all over. Big money, big fame, big danger. People can opt out after the first stage⦠unless theyâre under certain contracts. Then itâs fight to the death or donât leave alive.
âAs for your friends, theyâre safe. Out in the city for now.â
Her eyes lingered on Ruki a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing something.
Selene leaned back in her chair, the oil lamp on the wall catching the gold filigree at her cuffs. Her gaze was steady, weighing Ruki like she was deciding the worth of a rare coin. Beneath the quiet of the room came the muffled scrape of boots on wood, bursts of laughter from the Whining Moonâs lower floor, and the faint thrum of dice hitting a felted table.
âFirst, let me introduce myself,â she said, her voice smooth but grounded with authority. âSelene Tachi, of the Tachi Trade Company.â
Rukiâs ears tilted forward at the name. Tachi Trade Company⦠not a guild name I remember. In Untold Eternity, trading networks were almost always guild-run. Here, there were entirely new businesses not bound to that old map. She kept her face neutral, but the thought sat heavy in her mind that this world had rewritten the rules she thought she knew.
Seleneâs eyes narrowed slightly, testing her reaction. âYou mentioned the arena,â she continued. âThatâs how Ethel earned his name.â
Ruki stayed silent, letting the woman speak.
âIt was fifteen years ago, during the Elders of Trials. Theyâre held once every five years here, not like your yearly arena festivals.â Her tone thinned. âEthel was born a slave. Beastkin. His bloodline never bowed easily. His grandparents served the last true Beastkin Queen before the fall. Thatâs why Kaelira knew him, even when he was a child.â
A flicker crossed Seleneâs eyes, and she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. âIn the Trials, I had a choice. He didnât. I nearly died in the second stage. A Mythic-class beast, stronger than five direwolves, was loosed into the ring. I saw its claws coming for me.â Her gaze softened just enough to show the memory wasnât distant. âEthel stepped in. Took the blow to his back before it could reach me. The scar runs from the shoulder to the hip. He fought it off while bleeding so badly I thought⦠I thought he wouldnât stand again.â
Ruki shifted her weight, stretching her legs under the table to hide the fact that she was watching every change in Seleneâs tone. Thatâs the kind of loyalty you canât buy⦠but itâs also the kind that gets people killed if misused.
Selene drew a slow breath. âAfter that, I withdrew from the Trials. My family sponsored his remaining matches, coins, gear, and healers. Enough to keep him alive long enough to win. Enough to buy his freedom.â Her jaw tightened. âIt cost us more than gold. Nobles donât forget when you back Beastkin.â
So sheâs not Syndicate-bought, Ruki noted. That means sheâs a lever I can pull⦠if sheâs willing to be moved.
Selene stood, adjusting the drape of her coat with a controlled movement. âSome still trade with us because Tachi is too large to ignore. Others would rather deal with my rivals than touch what they call our âtainted bloodâ network.â The words held no shame. âIt doesnât matter. We built the Whining Moon together, and I will not hide him.â
The oil lamp crackled between them. Seleneâs eyes locked onto Rukiâs with a subtle intensity. âI know what bloodline you carry. Luria blood runs heavy in you. That means opportunity but also risk. So far, Iâm not certain which youâll be.â
Rukiâs tail flicked once, but she said nothing. She pushed herself up from the bed, feeling the lingering hum in her muscles the first time sheâd felt fully recovered since the camp. She crossed to the desk where her gear lay, fingers brushing the wood polished smooth by decades of use.
Her eyes found a scrap of parchment and a pen. She needs to know the plan, but if Kaelira, Ethel, or the others caught wind of it now, theyâd shut it down before it started. Even Selene will think Iâm reckless⦠but sheâll understand why.
She dipped the pen, testing the weight of it. The script of VelâDranis felt strange in her hand, a half-learned rhythm.
> [Skill Unlocked: Basic Handwriting - Level 1]
It had been years since sheâd last felt the scratch of ink on paper. The letters came out crooked, uneven, muscle memory broken by a lifetime in hospital beds. Each stroke felt both foreign and oddly satisfying, like uncovering a skill sheâd nearly forgotten she owned.
The soft chime in her vision made her smirk. Guess muscle memory doesnât carry across worlds.
When the ink dried, she folded the parchment and turned back to Selene.
âIâve given you what I can for now,â Selene said, watching her. âYou have company waiting downstairs. My assistant will help you prepare. Fill your⦠whatever it is you use to ready yourself, and meet them.â
Ruki stepped forward and set the folded note on the desk between them. âSomething to think about.â
Selene picked it up without opening it, eyes flicking back to Ruki. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, the kind that said sheâd just seen the outline of a much larger plan. She gave a single nod, then turned for the door.
The latch clicked behind Selene, leaving the room in a stillness that made the lampfire seem louder. Shadows swayed across the bedframe and desk as Ruki let out a slow breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding. The air sat heavy in her lungs, tasting faintly of oil and ash.
Her gaze drifted to the folded scrap of parchment sheâd left in Seleneâs hand. The plan was already in motion now. No walking it back. A flicker of unease tightened her chest, but she pushed it down. She stepped to the window, fingers brushing the cold frame, and looked out over Black Fang. From here, the central river caught the light like a silver vein, barges crawling along it while steam rose from clustered rooftops. Beyond the market bustle, the walls loomed high, impenetrable, a reminder of how little freedom there was outside this room.
I canât keep moving the way I have been, she thought, tail swaying once before she forced it still. No more rushing blind into every fight. Her jaw clenched as the memory of Malifourâs strike flashed through her mind, reckless, too close. Saving Willow had been worth it, but the cost of another mistake could be far worse.
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Liiaâs not stepping in again. And without Mar-Mar for three days. Not just three days. Liiaâs voice pressed in like a cold blade. Three years. That was all she had before the bond curdled and the corruption took him from her entirely. The thought left her stomach hollow, and she pressed a palm to her chest, as if to reassure herself that his presence was still there. It wasnât the thrum, not the warmth. Just a quiet weight.
She shivered once before shaking it off, turning her eyes to the Gazette folded on the desk. South Gate Girl. The headline seemed to glare at her in ink, and a strange chill prickled down her spine. That paper hadnât existed in Untold Eternity; here, it could make or break someone overnight. Fame was a blade with two edges; it could cut her enemies or bleed her dry if she let them dictate the fight. Her tail gave a small twitch. Excitement? Maybe. But the uncertainty in her gut told her she couldnât afford to lean too far in either direction.
She called up her interface.
> [SYSTEM INTERFACE: RESTORED]
>
> Status: Ruki Yusato
>
> Class: Beast Lord
>
> Level: 14
>
> Mana: 950 / 950 (Unstable)
>
> Health: ~700 / 700
>
> Stamina: 500 / 500
>
> Strength: 20 (+2)
>
> Agility: 42
>
> Intellect: 50 (62)
>
> Dexterity: 22
>
> Willpower: 25
>
> Resistance: 20
>
> Luck: 18 (+1)
>
> Tactical Synchronization: +12 INT boost within 15m of bonded beast
A faint creak from the hallway floorboards pulled her eyes from the glowing panel. Somewhere below, a chair scraped across stone, and the smell of roasted fowl drifted up through the floorboards. She flicked through her spell list.
> Known Spells:
>
> â Resonant Vein (Full Cast)
>
> â Hollow Step (Tier 1)
>
> â Gleaming Sigil â Restraint Glyph (Tier 1)
>
> â Flicker Shock (Tier 2)
>
> â Twinbolt Specters (Tier 3 Unlock â New)
>
> â Crest Dualcast: Stormveil Howl (Ultimate)
>
> â Illusion Mist (Tier 5 Field â New) â Creates deep fog, slows enemies, causes confusion; only those with high DEX can see through; combos with lightning attacks.
She let her thumb hover over Illusion Mist for a moment, picturing it flooding an alleyway, enemy silhouettes shifting in the haze. A small smile touched her lips before fading into focus. New spells were tempting, but she knew better than to sink everything into flash.
> Passives:
>
> â Beastkin Royal Resonance (Stable)
>
> â Field Sigil Weaving
>
> â Lightning Detonation Matrix â Tier 2+ lightning spells can be triggered to explode in a 3m radius, causing knock-up and stun.
>
> â Hawkâs Veil â Extended visual range; detects active magic circles one second before activation.
>
> Relics:
>
> â Durecast Earrings [Unlocked]
>
> â Aegis Code [Unlocked]
>
> Gear:
>
> â Whisperwind Brigandine (T4 Passive: Aero Dancer â +25% movement speed to allies within 5m, gradual HP drain while active)
>
> Physical Arts:
>
> â Stonewall Skin â Enhances damage resistance for a short time; usable in combination with Aero Dancer.
She shifted her allocation, bypassing the temptation of another flashy spell for a passive unlock. Deadbolt wouldâve approved, she thought, hearing the necromancerâs dry, amused voice in the back of her mind. The right groundwork outlasts any ultimate.
The interface flickered and faded, leaving her with the scuffed desk legs, the faint smell of leather oil from her armor straps, and the muffled laughter from somewhere down the hall. She cinched her brigandine, adjusted the set of her gear, and checked the dagger at her hip.
Without imperial shillings, she was just another mark in the market. With them, she could buy time, favors, even silence.
Information, allies, coin. Those were the priorities. Everything else could wait.
She straightened, rolling her shoulders once. The murmur of voices swelled beyond the door, the kind that told her the room beyond wasnât built for strangers. Her hand closed around the handle, and she stepped forward.
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[The Whining Moon â Main Floor]
Day 231 of the Twelvefold Cycle
Era of Concordance, Year 812 | Flamerest (September) | Afternoon
The scent of spiced venison and woodsmoke drifted up the stairwell before Ruki even reached the bottom step. She still felt the weight of the conversation upstairs, Seleneâs measured voice, the faint scratch of pen on parchment as her note had been taken from her hands. That exchange clung to her like the echo of a verdict not yet spoken.
By the time her boots hit the main floor, the Whining Moon was in full motion. The din wasnât the drunken chaos of a back-alley tavern, it was calculated, paced, the hum of a place where coin changed hands faster than mugs could be emptied. Imperial shillings slid across polished counters, traders murmured over ledgers at the far side of the hall, and the clink of weighty purses carried almost as far as the soft chords from the lute in the corner.
Above the main bar, the sigil of the Tachi Trade Company gleamed in gold filigree, a subtle claim, but an unmistakable one. It was the same crest stamped on the seals of half the merchant contracts in Black Fang. Seleneâs influence was everywhere in here, though to the casual eye, the Whining Moon was simply Ethelâs prize, a reward earned in the aftermath of the Elder Trial. In truth, the two legacies had become entangled by marriage, her network flowing into his establishment until it was as much a trade post as it was a tavern.
Even without Ethel present, his name was on the lips of scraps of rumor about strategy meetings for the next trial, about deals being struck beyond the city walls. Somewhere out in the swamplands, Kaelira was said to be moving like a shadow, finding the camps that hadnât yet been burned out.
Ruki paused at the foot of the stairs, gaze skimming the room. She didnât need Beastkin hearing to catch the murmurs:
> "Thatâs her⦠the one from South Gate."
>
> "They say she dropped Fang-ranked Malfur herself."
>
> "â¦donât care what they say, no way she lasts if the Syndicate takes notice."
A folded gazette lay on the nearest table, her name in bold above a grainy sketch, more an impression of her stance than her face. Another copy had been nailed to a post near the bar, flanked by a broadsheet trumpeting the dates of the upcoming Elder Trial.
Willow was the first to move toward her. The spear in her hand was at ease, but her eyes had the look of someone measuring more than they let on.
âGlad to see you walking,â she said, tail flicking once. âSouth Gate wasnât a light thing.â
Ruki dipped her head. âAnd thanks. For back there.â
Willowâs gaze lingered a moment longer before she looked away, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. I still need to speak to her about Malifor⦠thereâs more there than anyoneâs saying. She tucked the thought away for later.
That was when Juizio rose from his table at the back, moving with the kind of casual precision that drew the roomâs eye without asking for it. He hooked a boot over the rung of his chair, pushed it back with one heel, and crossed the space between them with a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.
âWell, well. Black Fangâs new headline,â he said, gaze locking on Ruki. âThought maybe youâd still be upstairs, basking in your press.â
She kept her voice even. âGuess Iâm here instead.â
Juizioâs grin widened. âHalf the city thinks youâre the next Beastkin prodigy. The other halfâs waiting to see you fall. Me? I think youâve got teeth. Question is⦠do you know how to use âem?â
Willow gave a quiet scoff, but Juizo didnât look away from Ruki.
âYouâve got a window right now,â he went on, lowering his voice but letting it carry. âName in print, crowd hungry to see if youâre worth the ink. Thatâs coin, if youâve got the spine for it. No Beastkin without bite lasts long in Black Fang.â
The word coin landed harder than she expected, a twist of something old and sour at the back of her throat. Her parentsâ voices seemed to rise from the memory: Smile for the sponsors, Ruki. Itâs what keeps you breathing.
Before she could answer, Seleneâs voice cut through the space like a drawn blade. She didnât walk so much as take the ground between them, every step measured.
âIf youâre proposing what I think you are,â she said, âthen itâll be done on my terms.â
Juizio tilted his head. âYour terms get in the way of the bets?â
Selene stopped in front of him, close enough to make him adjust his stance without realizing it. âMy terms,â she said, âkeep this place standing and keep her alive long enough to matter.â She didnât glance at Ruki, but her mind was already running the calculation, weighing what sheâd read in that note upstairs against the girl standing in front of her. If she canât handle Juizioâs speed and raw force, sheâll never survive the kind of gauntlet sheâs proposing. Ethel did it. Can she? This is the first step to finding out.
âYou want to fight,â Selene continued, âyouâll fight behind the Whining Moon. Training grounds. No killing blows. No weapons past wood. Winnerâs by yield or stand-down.â
Juizio grinned. âSounds fair enough.â Then, to Ruki: âWe can make it interesting. Everyone in the place will want a piece of this. You land clean hits on me, you walk away with more shillings than youâve ever held. I walk away with a story worth twice that.â
The weight in the air shifted. Chairs scraped. Voices rose in a ripple as word of the match spread. Coin purses loosened.
Seleneâs gaze flicked to Ruki. âYour choice.â
Her tail stilled, mind not on Juizioâs. She knew enough to understand what was at stake: coin she needed, a name to keep, and Seleneâs judgment hanging in the balance.
She nodded once. âLetâs do it.â
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[Training Grounds - The Whining Moon â 2 hours Later]
The sky over Black Fangâs South Gate was painted in bruised violet and deep ember, lanterns flickering to life one by one. Behind the Whining Moon, the small training grounds were already alive with noise. Wooden bleachers, old but sturdy, rattled under the shuffle of boots. The smell of spiced meat from the tavern kitchen drifted on the cooling air, cut through by the tang of oiled leather and churned dirt. A few gulls wheeled high overhead before the light faded fully, their cries blending with the low hum of the gathering crowd.
The ring itself was nothing more than a squared-off arena of packed earth, roped off with thick hemp, its edges dotted with training staves and dulled weapons. It wasnât the grand stadiums Ruki once fought in, but the tension pressing in from the stands felt just as real.
She rolled her shoulders, the weight of her armor familiar but grounding. Her breath fogged faintly in the dusk chill, each inhale carrying the copper scent of the dirt. In the back of her mind, she could feel Mar-Marâs presence, quiet, but watchful. This wasnât just a spar. It was a chance to plant her flag in Black Fangâs soil and see who noticed. Her eyes flicked to the stands, catching the silhouette of a man with a pen moving fast across paper, Toshiro Mi, barely seventeen, yet the owner of the VelâShadow Gazette. Every stroke of his pen felt like it might decide how this night was remembered.
A few rows up, Willow leaned on the railing, half-human ears framed by unruly dark hair, the greenish hue of her skin catching the lanternlight. Her eyes were fixed on Ruki, unreadable, though Ruki could almost feel the words she was holding back. Willowâs fingers tapped absently against the wood once, twice, as if keeping her rhythm.
On the far side of the ring, Juizio stretched his neck until it popped, then rolled his wrists with slow precision. The dim light caught the wolfish curve of his grin. Finally⦠he thought, the itch for a real fight crawling under his skin. It had been too long since heâd been allowed to cut loose without someone pulling him back. And this one, this Beastkin girl, she had a look in her eyes that said she wouldnât fold easily. That made his pulse pick up.
Selene stood between them, arms folded, her long coat stirring in the breeze. She glanced toward the Gazette owner, then back to Ruki. Sheâs not just fighting for coin⦠sheâs fighting to be seen. Letâs see what she does with it. Her voice carried clean over the din. âThis match is sanctioned by the Whining Moon. Rules stand, you stop when I say stop. Victory by knockout, yield, or ring-out.â
From somewhere near the back, two men leaned close together. Their cloaks marked them as common traders, but the way they kept their faces turned down told another story. One murmured to the other, âThatâs her.â The other only nodded, eyes tracking Ruki like a hawk. Syndicate, without question.
The crowd quieted as Selene raised her hand. Lanternlight trembled over the ring, casting long shadows that swayed with the ropes. The air felt charged, the kind of stillness before a storm. Rukiâs fingers flexed at her sides. Juizioâs stance settled, shoulders loose, smile sharp.
Seleneâs gaze swept them both, then she dropped her hand.
âBegin.â
> [Skill Activated: Howlform Dash]
>
> Physical Art - Tier II
>
> A high-speed forward burst using enhanced Beastkin muscle control and tail balance to generate maximum acceleration. Capable of chaining into follow-up strikes without losing momentum.
That was all Ruki could register in the flicker of her interface, a flash of text before Juizio blurred into motion on the very syllable Selene spoke. The word wasnât even fully out when his boots ground into the packed dirt, a deep crunch followed by the hiss of grit scattering under explosive force. His tail whipped in a silver arc, perfectly aligned to his balance, every movement honed. Shoulders rolled fluidly as claws grazed the earth, raking shallow grooves that caught lanternlight and threw it into ghostly afterimages that clung in the dust for a heartbeat before fading.
âDammit, heâs insanely fast. If I donât prepare, this is going to hurt,â Ruki thought, pivoting back, her gaze barely able to track his centerline.
The crowd was a blur of scowls and tension, their faces leaning into the glow of the ringâs lamps. She caught it, that electric pull sheâd felt before. This feeling⦠A crooked smile tugged at her mouth as echoes of another arena, another life, slid into focus. Kiteâs voice, loud, reckless, cut across her memory: âTank-spank that shit, Ruki. Youâve got it!â A small chuckle escaped her lips despite the oncoming threat.
âHeâs right,â she breathed, forcing her focus inward. Mana churned in her core, rushing through her limbs like hot rivers. She stomped both feet into the ground, planting her stance, her right arm rising across her torso to shield her vital line.
> [Passive Activated: Stonewall Skin]
The weight came first, a crushing density as the mana condensed around her frame, crawling across her skin until her ears hardened and her forearms took on the ridged, earthen texture of a fortress wall. Her stance rooted deeper, the grit beneath her boots compressing. Even with his attack bearing down, she knew she wouldnât walk away untouched, but sheâd still be standing, ready to turn the fight toward her advantage.
Two meters gone. Sheâs still upright. Three more, and Iâll have her feet moving.
The air shifted, cool drafts pulling at his back, heat rolling in waves from the lanterns ahead. The ground vibrated in tight bursts beneath his pounding steps, kicking sand into the front row. Murmurs in the crowd broke into gasps and low whistles; boots scraped the bleachers as spectators craned to follow him.
Another burst. The wind of his charge snapped loose strands of Rukiâs hair across her cheek. She didnât flinch. Her eyes locked on his chest.
> [Combat Mode Engaged â Threat Level: High]
>
> [Analyzing Trajectory â .4 Seconds to Impact]
Juizio dropped low, his right leg planting with a force that fanned grit outward in a half-moon arc. His calves and thighs bunched under the load, tail cutting a sharp counter-balance. He twisted, lead arm drawing back until his elbow brushed his ribs, forearm taut, tendons standing out along his wrist as his palm locked flat.
Now! He shouted
> [Skill Activated: Iron Pulse]
>
> Physical Art - Tier II
>
> A concentrated palm strike that channels condensed kinetic force through the point of contact, bypassing armor to disrupt the opponentâs core stability and create openings for chaining attacks.
He snapped forward in one unbroken coil-and-release, hips, shoulders, arm driving the flat of his palm into Rukiâs center mass. The blow landed with a sound like a muffled sledgehammer, the compressed force pushing past the hardened surface of her Stonewall Skin and shaking the muscle beneath.
Her stance shifted half a step from the sheer momentum, a tight grunt catching in her throat. The hardened shell held, but the vibration in her chest told her exactly how much power had been behind it.
The crowd reacted instantly. A wave of shouts and whistles rolled through the stands. Willowâs hands gripped the railing so tight her knuckles whitened, eyes flicking between the fighters without blinking. Seleneâs expression was unreadable, chin tilted slightly, lips parting only enough for a slow exhale.
From the side rail, the syndicate men leaned forward, their smirks faltering as they exchanged sharp whispers. One of them, lean, sharp-faced, muttered, âSheâs still standing? After that?â
Near the press table, the gazette manâs quill scratched fast over parchment, his eyes darting up with each movement, recording not just the impact but the way Rukiâs stone-hardened form refused to crumble.
Inside the ring, the last ripples of dust swirled between them, Juizioâs palm still extended, Ruki braced behind her shielded stance, the fightâs first exchange burned into every watching eye.
The crowd held its breath. So did she. Now it was her turn to bite back.â
END OF CHAPTER NINE
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