"What the hell happened?" Haruto thought. How did a sparring tournament turn into a blood fest beatdown? Where were the authorities? Why did they allow the contestants to almost kill each other? How could they allow to make Haruto to witness one of his closest friends almost die?

The experience of what he saw stirred something within him. A mixture of hate and fear surged through his veins. In his eyes, he saw red, his mind boiled with rage. A concoction of boiling fury was simmering inside of him, ready to blow out. He was seething. his mind was slowly being consumed with raging thoughts - loud as the crashing waves by a cliff on a dreary, stormy night. And the more he thought of the possibilities, the negligence of the administrators, the unfairness of it all, the more he gritted his teeth, furrowed his brows, and clenched his fists.

A battle royale with no winner, two unconscious siblings, cracked walls, and a broken stage painted with blood filled with joyous cheers from the audience.

"What the hell was happening?!" He screamed. The sounds of his fury echoed inside the dark hollow room.

The question wouldn't leave even as his limp body was dragged outside to the grotty arena by the guards. His eyes dull as the thought kept repeating in his mind, his world view crashed, and he couldn't look at others the same way as he did before all this happened - before this callous disregard of life. The cheerful emcee who hosted this sick game, the audience whose praises of victory now seemed like deluded cries of pleasure for more violence, and even the entire arena that his childhood had become so familiar with. None of it seemed the same. It was then that he realized, he had been living behind rose-tinted glasses.

As Haruto was thrown into the dusty ground, his former companion inside the room, stood before him, kneeling to check on the still swordsman.

"Hey, are you okay?" the sleepy fighter asked as he kept a fixed distance from the enraged boy. "You better get up now, we have to fight so we can get this over with."

Haruto stood up, sluggishly pulling his sheath and blade, everything that happened frustrated him so much, his face now on the verge of tears, and his anger still boiled freshly within him. But even with everything that happened, he didn't want to fight. His only concern was Sayozane; rushing towards the gate, the audience booed and hissed at the boy as he desperately tried to rush to the medical bay that his best friend was in. But no matter how he tried, he'd be pushed back by the guards that stood in every single exit and entrance underneath the audience, the walls were too high to climb over, and no one was coming to help him.

Haruto looked behind him, the broken arena that held him was shined upon by moonlight once again. A stage full of rubble and debris, pillars to jump from or even hide, a vast area with a lot of rocks to trip on, a statue that could fall off when attacked with a lot of force, and lastly, a baggy-clothed and slouched individual that's supposed to be his enemy. He looked at him, examining his "weird" adversary, if he didn't know any better, he views him as a person who's gone out of a normal bed, not on a battleground. This man had already yawned three times ever since he laid his view on him. His half-lidded eyes and sluggish movements supported this thought, but it couldn't be possible. "Am I supposed to fight you?" Haruto thought.

"You can't go out, they need us to finish the tournament before they'll let everyone go... That's what happens around here." His opponent explained. Stretching his limbs as the swordsman stood still in front of him.

But those words only made Haruto even angrier. Clenching his fist even harder and seeing even redder. But he realized that this was the only way out; to get to Sayozane, he must fight his way through it. Immediately, the crowd's cries of anger and disgust turned to cheers once more as Haruto slowly walked to his side of the field. Readying himself for the final confrontation tonight, with blade in hand and position ready for battle, his battle spirit wasn't burning within him anymore, this time, it was rage.

"I see that you're really angry... but unfortunately, I won't make this easy for you." He chuckled. Scratching his head. "I suppose I should give you my name first. I am—"

But the sleepy fighter was interrupted as Haruto ran towards him. Angrily slashing away at his opponent who dodged and jumped away from his reckless attacks. As the drowsy boy kept his pace to stay away from the blade, Haruto became even faster, his rage causing him to attack and move quicker than before. Jumping from the walls to the pillars, he couldn't help but notice that his adversary was still as a statue... except the small twitching of his fingers. The boy began to move his hands, his movements looked like it was imitating a pianist as he continued to jump among the space. As they continued to chase and run, he began to notice little sparkles of light around him, mesmerized but refusing to cease, his blade suddenly halted when he reached for his opponent's neck, refusing to budge even with his current strength. Suddenly, little green lines appeared around him, circling his body as the green-haired boy smiled at his adversary.

With robe taken off, Haruto's opponent had revealed his power. Waving his hands like a puppeteer's performance, each movement produced more threads from his fingers, slowly circling Haruto to trap him. As each thread got closer, they emitted something else as well— a green light reflected from the slow dripping liquid on the threads. Without a doubt, Haruto knew what it was, poison. Utilising a technique to try and jump away from the incoming threads, he leaped into the air, landing on one of the nearby pillars while his enemy did the same.

"So... you can actually do stuff with that thing." The boy yawned. Revealing his green-lit fingers with threads that disappeared when they went further. "Well... it's kinda rude for you to interrupt me when I was giving a proper greeting."

Raising his open hand, the yawning fighter clenched his fist, green threads immediately girded around him, forming a helix formation that cut and slashed anything it touched, causing rubble to fly in all directions even to the audience.

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"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Hiromoto Asachiko, pleased to meet you."

With another wave of his hand, the threads dispersed and directed their flight towards the debris on the ground, destroying them in the process and causing even more rubble to fly into the audience, the resulting destruction revealed a beautiful pattern of green lines stemming from the fighter's hands, its green light had lit up the arena and an intoxicating smell swam through the air.

"Well... perhaps you already know this, my ability is to manipulate sharp threads mixed together with - you guessed it; poison. One touch of this delicate liquid and it'll slowly take over your body until you'll become paralysed from the pain it'll bring." Yawning at the sight of his still opponent, Hiromoto prepared for his attack. "I think I've already said enough... welp, time to end this quickly so I can go home and sleep."

With the flick of both hands, rocks came flying towards Haruto, aggressively crashing into the boy's location, causing a shockwave around the arena with each stone hit. After ceaseless attacks of debris, the crowd gasped as the smoke revealed a mountain of broken stones that piled up on Haruto's location. Hiromoto and the crowd surveyed the area for the missing swordsman amongst the destroyed part of the arena.

With no signs of the missing fighter, Hiromoto chuckled, facing the crowd to listen to their thunderous praise. As he recalled his threads, he revelled in the cheers of everyone, thanking them for their support of his easy win. While standing on top of the pillar, Hiromoto felt a blunt force behind his head, falling down into the ground that shocked the audience that was cheering him. He couldn't move, his eyesight had gone blurry, and in indescribable pain infected his head. Finally, after recovering and twitching his entire body to get up, Hiromoto turned to see a panting swordsman who was splattered in his own blood. The sight of his living enemy rushed adrenaline inside of him.

The crowed cheered and Hiromoto became angry. "Tell me... how... did you survive... that attack just now?" He asked as he sluggishly balanced himself.

"It was... because of your threads." Haruto panted as he said those words. "When my blade came to a halt because of them, they tied themselves to my weapon... using this, I was able to deflect some of your attacks before I landed on the ground and hid under a pile of rubble. Seems like your threads are pretty durable as well."

"But how were you able to reach me without making a sound?!" He asked. Curious about his opponent's sudden attack.

"When... you pulled your threads..." Hiromoto realised, the force of the object that hit him was amplified due to the recall of the threads that held it. "Smart move" he thought.

As they both stood apart in the broken arena, the atmosphere around them became intense, Hiromoto's adrenaline somehow matched that of Haruto's rage, a constant feeling that pushed them both to fight. In this match, they shunned away their reasons to fight, now something else was manipulating them to face off in combat. Finally recovering from the wounds they recieved, they both went into a battle stance, after taking their final deep breaths, they clashed. Running towards one another, Hiromoto utilised his strings to try to subdue and infect Haruto with his poison, but Haruto would not go down that easily, with his fresh rage still inside of him that drove him to fight, trying to defeat him proved a bit difficult for Hiromoto. Jumping from the walls and the pillars with every technique at their disposable, their clash was something worthy of being watched, the audience and the emcee had never been more alive witnessing this spectacular performance. Hiromoto continued to toy with Haruto, chuckling and smiling as he saw his adversary dancing around to avoid the lethal green lines that followed his hands.

"You're an evasive little bug aren't you, but let's see how you escape this."

Flicking both of his hands, Hiromoto screamed as he revealed his powerful technique. "Demon Spider Net" Up in the sky, an enourmous pattern of green threads appeared, it's entire area wide enough to cover the entire battle ground, with the flick of Hiromoto's hand, the net fell at drastic speed, immediately, the ground shook as the web covered the area that held both him and Haruto, smoke covered the arena once more and the crowd was left a gasp. But the moment was short-lived as Haruto jumped out of the smoke and attacked him, injuring his left shoulder using his wooden blade.

"You little—how did you escape this time?" The boy said as he jumped back to retreat.

But Haruto didn't answer, fully driven by his emotions, he continued to slash away at his opponent, Hiromoto retaliated by summoning even more threads to attack Haruto, injuring him in the process that allowed the poison to enter his bloodstream. Shocking the crowd and Haruto.

He chuckled. "It's only a matter of time before your body succumbs to the poison." Hiromoto smiled sinisterly.

But Haruto didn't care, he knew that there was only one way to end this, jumping back as threads appeared from the wall, he stood still in the middle of the arena, an arena that was covered with green threads from every angle.

"Poison Technique Final Strand: Maze of Agony. With this, you won't be able to move without touching any of the threads and with the poison coursing through you're veins, you'll lose this match. It's over for you." Finally weakened and exhausted, Hiromoto, tripped and fell on his knees as he watched his opponent try to find a way out of the poisonous trap, coughing and holding his chest from the amount of effort he exerted. Unable to move and becoming even more tired, he sat still, waiting for the poison to overcome Haruto.

With each slash at the threads, Haruto's sword became more crippled, if this continued, his sword would eventually break. Every direction he faced was covered by green lines, becoming even more frustrated in the situation he was in, Haruto screamed, bursting into tears and breaking down on the ground. His thoughts were slowly consumed by despair and the more he thought of the events—his best friend, the pressure, the frustration—the more he cursed everything around him. The poison was slowly taking over him, pain covered the area around his wound where the string orignally struck, sluggishly infecting the rest of his limb, knowing that his time would almost come, Haruto clenched his fists. There was nothing else to do, nothing else to wait for, and all he could do; was nothing.

"Haruto." a faint voice called out to him in the darkness.

"Haruto." the voice became louder.

Opening his eyes, he saw a beautiful woman standing in front of him, her smooth sliky hair carassed his face, and her hands comforted him. "Who is she" the question came into Haruto's mind.

"Who are you?" Haruto asked as he laid down on her lap.

"Are you... angry Haruto?" The woman asked in a soothing voice.

"Yes..." Haruto replied.

"Are you sad?"

"Yes..."

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes.."

"Do you want to prove you are strong?"

"I don't know..."

"Do you... want to save your friend."

"I-I do."

"Then get up and fight, show them the power of the Amaterasu's."

Haruto awoke in the middle of the field, the moon still shining and the threads were slowly dissipating as Hiromoto coughed in the distance, half of the maze disappeared, making movement easier. With blade in hand and consciousness recovered, Haruto knew what he must do. Sluggishly standing up, the pain started to try and control Haruto, but he knew he couldn't afford to lose. The crowd had become overjoyed at the two fighters below and the moon was at its peak. It was finally time to end this once and for all.

"You're—" Hiromoto coughed. "Still alive?!" He asked as hastily crawled away from the boy.

Haruto moved with the remainder of his strength, slowly walking towards his weakened opponent, but after finally gathering enough strength, he ran. Jumping and rolling over the various threads that still covered the space between him and Hiromoto, slowly reaching him. With blade in hand, Haruto prepared for one final strike— a strike to end Hiromoto. But his opponent retaliated by sending threads to stop his fast enemy, running and evading with the pain, Haruto kept his pace, refusing to stop at anything, this was the climax of the battle. Becoming more frantic, Hiromoto coughed up blood as he used the last of strength to concoct a bouquet of strings that Haruto dodged. "Is this the end?" he thought. With each step Haruto took, the crowd became louder and more frantic, the moonlight was at its peak, the sky began to emit thunder, and as he took his final step, a loud sound silenced the arena.