Kuracha stood tall, unbent by formality, eyes assessing like one witnessing a small yet daring creature confronting a mountain. Authority radiated from him, not arrogance.
"Tsk..."
He began to move. Not a charge. Nor a sprint.
Just steps — soft, gliding, almost lazy — like petals drifting across still water.
And yet each footfall made the stone groan.
The air thickened around him.
Dust lifted before his body touched it, as though the world itself stepped aside.
Until. He was suddenly there. No transition.
No blur. Just presence.
He collided with Kunku.
The impact did not sound like flesh meeting flesh.
It sounded like two tectonic plates correcting a mistake.
The arena floor rippled outward.
Stone buckled. Cracks raced in branching lines, sprinting for the walls like frightened lightning.
A circular depression formed beneath their feet.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Two bodies locked at the center.
Kuracha's golden claws pressed against Kunku's forearm.
