The final aerial unit ruptured in midair.
It did not explode in the way audiences had come to expect—no fireball, no blooming shockwave, no dramatic scattering of fragments across the arena. Instead, it failed.
Its outer shell split apart along invisible stress lines, metal plates peeling away as if something fundamental inside had simply given up holding together. The internal light that powered its levitation flickered once, twice, and then vanished completely.
Gravity reclaimed it.
The wreckage tumbled downward, spinning in an uncoordinated spiral. It scraped the air as it fell, fragments clattering against one another, before finally slamming into the alloy floor below.
The sound was heavy.
Final.
The echo lingered longer than expected, reverberating through the arena's vast enclosure like a low drumbeat marking the end of a movement.
Silence followed.
Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that stretches too tight, filled with anticipation and restrained tension.
The arena was empty again.
All aerial units—destroyed.
All supplementary systems—offline.
Only one combatant remained active on the field.
At the very center of the arena stood the centaur robot.
Its massive frame cast a long shadow across the metallic ground, segmented legs locked firmly into place. Unlike the destroyed drones, it showed no visible signs of damage. Its armor plates were unmarred, its posture unwavering.
It did not advance.
It did not retreat.
It simply stood there.
Waiting.
Then—
A howl rang out.
It was deep, resonant, and sustained—nothing like the earlier roar meant to intimidate or announce engagement. This sound was deliberate, engineered, emitted from deep within the machine's chest cavity.
A low-frequency resonance.
The sound did not merely travel through the air. It pressed against it.
Subtle vibrations rippled outward, invisible to the naked eye but unmistakable in effect. The ground beneath the robot shuddered faintly, alloy plates humming in response.
The air itself seemed to tense.
Cameras across the arena adjusted automatically, recalibrating to compensate for the sudden shift in atmospheric pressure.
The broadcast feed captured everything.
"Th-this is…?"
For the first time since the match began, uncertainty bled into Jackson's voice.
He leaned forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the main display, fingers unconsciously tightening around his headset.
The centaur robot raised its right arm.
The lance.
At first glance, it appeared unchanged—still a long, heavy weapon forged for penetration and charge tactics. But then the surface shifted.
Seams that had been invisible moments ago began to separate.
Panels slid aside with mechanical precision.
Tiny vents opened along the length of the lance, not randomly placed but arranged in a perfect spiral, following grooves etched deep into the weapon's structure.
There were dozens.
No—hundreds.
As the system activated, the lance began to rotate.
Slowly.
So slowly that it almost seemed ceremonial, like the deliberate drawing of a blade before execution.
Then the rotation accelerated.
The air reacted instantly.
Invisible currents were dragged into motion, spiraling inward toward the lance. The surrounding atmosphere compressed, layers upon layers folding into one another under immense rotational force.
"What is it doing…?"
Jackson murmured, more to himself than the audience.
The lance spun faster.
The sound changed.
A deep, grinding hum emerged, not loud, but powerful—like a turbine winding up beneath the surface of the world.
Dust scattered across the ground, lifted violently before being hurled away from the weapon's axis. Loose debris skittered across the arena floor, clanging against barriers.
Even the protective shield separating the spectators from the battlefield rippled faintly, its energy field reacting to the sudden spike in pressure.
"Is this its ultimate move?"
Jackson's voice dropped unconsciously.
He swallowed.
"An air drill?"
He shook his head almost immediately.
"No—no, that's not accurate."
The airflow was not confined.
It expanded outward, dragging more and more space into its influence. The rotation created a massive, advancing vortex, the kind designed not for precision, but for obliteration.
"This isn't a single-point breakthrough technique."
"It's a wide-area annihilation pattern."
The centaur robot moved.
One step forward.
Its hooves struck the ground with a thunderous impact.
The vortex advanced.
The air screamed.
A low, continuous rumble rolled across the arena as the vortex pushed forward, compressing everything in its path. The space ahead of it visibly distorted, like heat haze amplified to a violent extreme.
And directly in its path—
Seven.
"As expected, it's an impact-type skill!"
Jackson's voice surged in volume, adrenaline overriding professionalism.
"Then what will Seven—"
He stopped.
Because Seven did not move.
He didn't dodge.
Didn't retreat.
Didn't even shift his stance.
The wind pressure slammed into him, tearing at his clothes, snapping fabric violently against his body. His coat flared behind him like a banner caught in a storm. The ground beneath his feet vibrated, fine cracks spreading outward from the sheer force bearing down on the space he occupied.
"W-what?!"
Jackson's voice cracked.
"He's not evading?!"
Seven stood still.
For a fraction of a second, it looked like madness.
Then he raised his hand.
Eight flying knives rose simultaneously.
There was no hesitation, no staggered movement. Telekinesis seized them all at once, lifting them into the air with perfect synchronization.
They did not scatter.
They converged.
The blades aligned, edges pressed tightly together, compressed along a single axis. Air between them was crushed, forced into rotation by sheer density and control.
The pressure spiked.
A second vortex formed—smaller, tighter, more refined.
A reinforced air drill.
Not designed to overpower by scale.
Designed to overpower by density.
Seven stepped forward.
Just once.
Not a charge.
Not a leap.
A deliberate, measured step.
Then he advanced directly into the oncoming vortex.
Head-on.
The collision was silent.
No explosion.
No flash.
Only the horrifying sound of air being torn apart at the molecular level.
The two currents met, grinding against each other, rotational forces screaming as they clashed. The reinforced air drill carved into the larger vortex, forcing open a hollow within it.
The opening was unstable.
Edges collapsed and reformed constantly, the surrounding airflow desperately trying to close the breach.
It was barely large enough for a human body.
And the instant it existed—
Seven moved.
He followed directly behind the drill.
His posture shifted, body lowering, movements flowing with unnatural smoothness. He didn't fight the air—he aligned with it, slipping through the gap like a blade sliding into a sheath.
The vortex scraped past his shoulders.
Pressure screamed against his back.
Any deviation—any miscalculation—would have shredded him instantly.
But it didn't.
He passed through.
Gasps erupted across the arena.
Not cheers.
Not screams.
Just raw, involuntary breaths drawn in disbelief.
"This is practically suicide—!"
Jackson blurted out, voice breaking before he could stop himself.
Then he corrected himself.
"No—no, that's wrong."
"This is supreme control backed by absolute confidence."
The broadcast cameras struggled to keep up as Seven emerged on the other side.
The massive vortex surged past him, having lost its target, slamming into the far end of the arena's barrier. The impact sent a deep, resonant boom through the structure, energy rippling outward in concentric waves.
Seven landed.
Firm.
Balanced.
His breathing was steady.
No stumble.
No sign of strain.
"Rather than trying to dodge a wide-range attack like this,"
Jackson said, voice shaking with delayed realization,
"he chose to break the situation itself."
The booth fell silent for a moment.
"There was no guarantee this would work."
"No certainty that Seven's air drill could exceed the centaur robot's vortex in density."
Jackson looked at the screen, eyes wide.
"And yet—"
He exhaled slowly.
"He did."
The wind faded.
The air settled.
And in that moment of calm, it became clear—
This battle had only just entered its next phase.