CHAPTER 25: The Final – Part 1
THE DOME – FINAL HOUR
The air was electric.
It was no longer a stadium. It was a volcano about to erupt. Seventy thousand seats, all occupied. Banners everywhere, painted chests, screams blending into a continuous, deafening, almost animal roar.
The giant screens played the tournament's best moments on loop. Kotobe's KO against Dante. Pinky's rescue by One. Orion's demolition by Grann. Each image triggered a new wave of screams.
On social networks, it was an apocalypse.
#FinalKotobeOne: 50M views in ten minutes.
#WhoWillWin: 40M views.
#TheAdaptatorOrTheGhost: 35M views.
Bets opened, closed, reopened. Analysts were tearing their hair out. No one agreed.
"— Kotobe beat Viper. VIPER. The guy who demolished Luna and Bo!
— Yeah but One… ONE put Grann out WITHOUT TOUCHING HIM.
— Grann eliminated himself. That's not the same.
— Eliminated himself? Have you ever seen anyone eliminate themselves?
— So what? He won. That's all that matters.
— I'm sure One cheated to get here.
— Kotobe's going to demolish him.
— One's going to put him to sleep."
The tension was palpable.
---
IN THE HONOR TRIBUNE
All the eliminated contestants were there.
Pinky, arm still in a cast, sitting next to Nagato, her impassive bodyguard.
Lena, gaze proud despite defeat, surrounded by her admirers.
Luna, in the shadow of a pillar, watching in silence.
Viper, his daggers resting on his knees, a calm smile on his lips.
Axel, arms crossed, staring at the arena with intensity.
Bo, motionless, his slate on his thighs with a single word: "RESPECT".
Chloé, pale, avoiding looking at the arena for too long.
Grann, sitting a bit apart, lost in thought, remembering his mother's words.
And up above, in the commentators' tribune, two silhouettes.
Captain Man, radiant, charming smile plastered on his face.
And next to him, a young woman with bluish hair, a piercing gaze, an elegant outfit adorned with silver lightning bolts.
Azure Lightning. Class A heroine, rising prodigy, special guest to commentate this final.
She looked at the arena with palpable excitement.
"I never thought I'd commentate a tournament final one day," she murmured.
Captain Man winked at her.
"Enjoy it, kid. This is going to be historic."
---
Lola, on her floating podium, took a deep breath. Her voice, amplified by the Dome's entire sound system, rang out like thunder.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEEEN!"
Silence fell. Instant. Absolute.
"AFTER WEEKS OF BATTLES, TEARS, TRIUMPHS, AND DEFEATS… HERE WE ARE! THE FINAL OF THE ACOLYTE TOURNAMENT!"
The Dome exploded.
"TWO FIGHTERS! TWO DESTINIES! ONE SINGLE WINNER!"
The giant screen lit up, showing both portraits side by side.
"IN THE LEFT CORNER… THE ADAPTATOR! THE ONE WHO HUMILIATED DANTE, DEFEATED LENA, SURVIVED VIPER! THE MAN WHO ALWAYS GETS BACK UP, NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS! KOOOOOTOBEEEE!"
"KO-TO-BE! KO-TO-BE! KO-TO-BE!"
Kotobe entered. His arms were still in casts, his ribs fragile, his face marked by battles. But he walked tall, proud, a tired smile on his lips. He waved to the crowd, and the uproar doubled.
"AND IN THE RIGHT CORNER… THE ENIGMA! THE ONE WHO MADE BRICK LEAVE THE ARENA WITHOUT TOUCHING HIM! THE ONE WHO WALKED ON AXEL! THE ONE WHO MADE CHLOÉ VOMIT BY HIS MERE PRESENCE! THE ONE WHO BEAT GRANN… BY PICKING UP A COIN! OOOOOONE!"
The crowd just watched. They hadn't quite figured out the character enough to applaud.
One entered.
Hands in his pockets. Vacant stare. He looked at the crowd, the ceiling, his shoes, then scratched his head.
He yawned.
The crowd, torn between laughter and admiration, roared even louder.
In the commentators' tribune, Azure Lightning narrowed her eyes.
"Wait…"
She stared intensely at One.
"I've seen him before. He looks vaguely familiar."
Captain Man looked at her, intrigued.
"Oh really?"
"Yes!" Her eyes suddenly widened. "He's the white-haired boy who defeated that crazy cyborg a few months ago! In the Eastern district!"
[IN THE SIDE EPISODE: The Life of a Rank C Hunter.]
A shiver ran down her spine.
"He had… he destroyed it. Without effort. Like it was nothing."
She fell silent, preferring not to dwell on that memory.
But deep down, a certainty was forming.
Kotobe is going to lose.
---
IN THE ARENA – THE FACE-OFF BEGAN, BUT THE DOME'S ROOF OPENED, LETTING THE LIGHT IN. THE DOME NOW LOOKED LIKE A REAL STADIUM.
Kotobe and One looked at each other.
Silence had fallen between them, despite the ambient uproar.
— READY?
One nodded. Kotobe took a deep breath.
— FIGHT!
Nothing happened.
One remained still. Kotobe too. A minute. Two.
The crowd began to murmur, impatient.
Kotobe, meanwhile, was thinking.
One. I've seen all your fights. I've analyzed everything.
His eyes scanned One, searching for a flaw, a tic, a habit.
You must have a colossal Ether gauge to have beaten Grann. But I know very well that you don't know how to manipulate Ether.
He clenched his fists.
And that's where it's all going to play out. Ether manipulation is a cause-and-effect phenomenon. Me, for example, I concentrate my Ether in my arms – that's a cause – and the effect is that my striking power is multiplied tenfold. I understood that through training. A good demon hunter must know how to use Ether. But you, One… you use Ether randomly.
He attacked.
His fists, fragile but precise, shot toward One. A straight. A hook. An uppercut.
One dodged them all. Without moving his feet. Just by tilting his head, turning his torso, ducking a few centimeters.
"WHY WON'T YOU FIGHT?!" Kotobe shouted, frustrated.
One looked at him, perplexed.
"…Why should I?"
Kotobe stopped, bewildered.
"…Because it's a tournament. Because we're in the final. Because…"
He searched for words.
"…Because that's how it is."
One tilted his head.
"…Ah."
Kotobe caught his breath. An idea sprouted in his mind.
"Listen, One. Let me teach you something."
One looked at him, curious.
"A straight right. Like this."
Kotobe took a basic stance, his fist pulled back, then threw it forward into empty space. The movement was clean, academic, perfect.
"You see? Simple. Cause – I extend my arm. Effect – I hit."
One imitated the gesture, but clumsily, too stiff, too slow. His fist stopped mid-air.
The crowd snickered.
"— He doesn't even know how to throw a punch!
— Is this a joke?
— How did he make it to the final?!"
Kotobe clenched his teeth.
No. It's not possible. He's messing with me.
He charged again, attacking with new, desperate rage. His blows rained down, fast, precise, vicious.
One dodged them. Again. Always.
"HIT ME, DAMN IT!" Kotobe screamed. "HIT ME FOR REAL!"
One hesitated. He looked at his own fists. Then at Kotobe. Then at the crowd.
"…Okay."
He took the same stance Kotobe had shown him. Fist back. Arm extended.
He threw his straight right.
Clumsy. Slow. Almost ridiculous.
His fist stopped a few centimeters from Kotobe's face.
And then…