The remaining duels did not wait.
They followed in measured sequence—no pauses, no spectacle gaps, no allowance for anticipation to settle. The arena was no longer a stage.
It was a filter.
Earth vs Water
This fight lasted the longest.
Not because it was violent.
Because neither side gave ground.
Stone rose.Water circled.Ground shifted, then softened, then hardened again.
Earth advanced by inches.Water retreated by fractions.
For nearly twenty minutes, nothing decisive happened.
Until Water stopped adapting.
He chose a boundary.
When Earth pressed forward, Water did not yield—it redirected, creating a lateral collapse that forced Earth to stabilize the arena itself instead of the fight.
Both stood still afterward.
Breathing hard.
No winner announced.
No loser declared.
The Evaluation recorded:
Earth: Maximum endurance, limited flexibility
Water: Strategic redirection, delayed commitment
Valen frowned.
Masako nodded.
"Both are usable," she said. "In different wars."
Fire vs Wind
This one ended quickly.
Too quickly.
Fire struck first, releasing everything he had refined since his defeat.
It was controlled.Focused.Smarter.
Wind answered with speed—but not patience.
She dodged once.
Twice.
On the third exchange, she misjudged distance.
Fire anticipated the angle and burst upward—not chasing, but cutting off escape.
Wind escaped anyway.
Barely.
The arena chimed.
ENGAGEMENT TERMINATED — MUTUAL OVEREXTENSION.
Observers reacted with surprise.
"No decisive control," Valen said.
"No restraint," Masako answered. "They forgot what they learned."
The Evaluation noted:
Fire: Improved discipline, emotional volatility
Wind: Exceptional evasion, critical miscalculation
Both rankings shifted downward.
The One That Was Stopped
The final scheduled duel never began.
Two remaining participants entered the arena.
Neither attacked.
For nearly five minutes, they stood apart—measuring, waiting, refusing to make the first move.
Then one spoke.
"This ends badly," he said quietly.
The other nodded.
They withdrew simultaneously.
The arena hesitated.
Then accepted it.
Observers erupted.
"You can't allow that!"
"They're defying the structure!"
Masako raised a hand.
"They understood it," she said. "Better than the rest."
The Evaluation logged:
Shared Withdrawal: High situational awareness
Risk Avoidance: Unacceptable for frontline
Leadership Potential: Elevated
Akihiko watched in silence.
"They won't obey," he said flatly.
Masako did not disagree.
After the Arena
By sunset, the duels were complete.
No celebrations followed.
No announcements echoed.
The participants were escorted away—not together, not apart—just moved.
Sorted.
In the observation chamber, the ranking matrices glowed with unstable values.
"One anomaly," Valen said quietly.
Masako didn't look away from the data.
"One inevitability," she corrected.
Across the complex, Kurogane stood alone on a balcony overlooking the darkened arena. He felt no triumph.
Only alignment.
Whatever the Evaluation had been designed to do—
It had failed to make him smaller.
And that worried the Council more than any loss ever could.
The gates sealed.
The arena slept.
And somewhere between recorded outcomes and unrecordable intent, the future quietly rearranged itself.