Isshinano vanished from sight, crescents of aura carving through the air as they rained down on Seven. He sprinted across the arena floor, dodging for dear life — right up until Isshinano dropped from above like a guillotine, both blades crashing against Seven's dagger. The impact drove Seven into the ground, boots grinding against the shattered stone.
"Damn swordsman," he hissed.
His free hand shot forward, stretching and coiling around Isshinano's arm. The swordsman's eyes widened, but before he could react, Seven's hand morphed into a snake's head and sank its fangs into his flesh, pumping venom into his bloodstream.
"Now I just have to survive!" Seven barked, flipping back and thrusting both hands outward as twin serpent heads burst from his palms, spewing a cloud of poison gas.
Isshinano grit his teeth, aura flaring hard. He spun, faster and faster, until a roaring vortex of energy formed around him.
"DRAGON TWISTER!"
The spiraling aura shredded the poison cloud as he charged through it, sweat pouring down his face, his breath already ragged. He lunged — only for Seven to parry with unimaginable precision, knocking one of Isshinano's blades into the air. Shock flickered across Isshinano's face as the aura on his remaining sword flickered.
He launched upward, snatching the falling blade before diving down.
"X-CRATER!"
A massive X of aura split open beneath Seven as they clashed. But Seven held firm, muscles coiled like steel cables.
"You slimy rat!" Isshinano snarled, pushing with everything he had. But his strength faltered — venom in his veins, poison in his lungs, breath growing heavier and heavier. He stumbled back, drenched in sweat.
"I should've done this from the start!" Seven roared, blitzing forward. His flurry of slashes tore into Isshinano, one strike ripping free the dagger still lodged in his chest. Isshinano screamed as Seven snatched the weapon and doubled the brutality. The relentless chain of blows crushed him to his knees, bleeding, trembling.
Seven smirked under his mask and turned away, ready to leave the arena—
until a suffocating bloodlust filled the air.
"Goemon Clan Sacred Technique," Isshinano rasped, rising despite the blood covering nearly every inch of him. "Elder Dragon's Final Roar."
His aura erupted violently. It writhed and twisted around his swords, screaming until two dragon faces formed at their edges. Seven stood frozen.
Isshinano stepped forward... one... two... closing the distance.
Then, suddenly, his aura cut off.
Silence.
Isshinano collapsed.
Dead.
...
"Our first death... Ahjma'il, fix it," Zephyr called from above. "Since someone actually died, we'll add an extra hour to the break before the next match. Ahjma'il is the greatest healer on the planet — possibly the whole galaxy — so relax. He'll be fine."
He tried to make the announcement sound dramatic, but when he glanced back at the Visionaries, they looked completely unfazed.
"Well, yeah," Erenyx said. "We weren't worried. We know Ahj can bring people back— he revived Heartz, remember?"
The others nodded casually.
Zephyr deflated a little. "You guys are no fun," he muttered.
Loretta's eyes suddenly widened. "Back to what actually matters—YOU CAN USE AURA, ERENYX!?"
Erenyx nodded like it was obvious.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU USE IT AGAINST THE APE!?" Loretta shouted, throwing his hands up.
Erenyx paused, thinking... then shrugged. "Honestly? I forget how many abilities I have when it really counts."
Loretta made a disgusted face. "I hate talented bastards."
But the second the words left his mouth, guilt flickered across his expression, and he scrambled to change the subject.
"Uncle Zephyr, who do you have coming out next? I sensed someone during Isshinano's bloodlust."
Erenyx perked up. "Really? I didn't sense anything."
Zephyr chuckled. "Trust me—he'll be even more entertaining than our Goemon friend."
The group traded skeptical looks, but Zephyr had no reason to bluff, so they let it slide.
Meanwhile, Ahjma'il carried Isshinano's corpse to the medbay. Golden light engulfed the body, mending every wound and pulling him back from the brink. But as the resurrection took hold, Ahjma'il swayed, catching himself on the wall. His breath came sharp and heavy.
"I don't think I can revive another person today..." he whispered, forcing himself upright and heading back toward Zephyr.
On the table, Isshinano gasped awake, bolting upright as a wave of raw pain ripped through his body.
Isshinano sat upright, breath ragged, eyes darting around the room. He stared at his hands, flexing them slowly. "I... lived?" he whispered, as if the words themselves felt foreign.
His gaze shifted to the two swords resting beside the bed. "I've failed you... Oden, Honamaru."
The somber look in his eyes reflected everything those blades meant—heirlooms carried by every Goemon clan head since his great-grandfather.
The curtain to the medbay booth drew back. Isshinano looked up—surprised—to see Jhenga Krown standing there.
"I see..." Isshinano murmured, eyes moving to Jhenga's missing arm. "They weren't able to restore it. I am... sorry for your loss."
His tone was completely unlike the fierce warrior from the arena; stripped of aura, stripped of blades, he was simply a man bearing too much history.
"Isshin," Jhenga said softly, "why didn't you come back?"
The silence that followed was thick and painful.
"...I learned of a will I must carry," Isshinano finally replied. "A task passed down to every Kozuki of the Goemon Clan. And I am the last one. So I have to see it through."
His voice carried the weight of resignation more than conviction.
Jhenga's expression tightened. "We could've gone with you. We could've helped. You know how strong we are when we're together!"
But Isshinano didn't respond. His eyes stayed downcast, unable—unwilling—to meet his friend's gaze. The silence answered for him.