The morning was bright, the air thick with the scent of earth and excitement, as crowds began pouring into the grand arena—the one known throughout the ages as Beryon's Coliseum. Thousands gathered, their eyes fixed on the central stage, hearts pounding as if they themselves were the ones about to fight. Banners fluttered in the sky, the five colors representing the great teams swirling like tongues of fire dancing in the wind.
Grind stood with his team, his gaze distant despite the roaring cheers around him. Though the noise was deafening, the silence within him was louder. His friend Dinko clapped him on the shoulder, shouting with enthusiasm laced with worry:
"It's starting, Grind... Let's win this, guys!"
Grind lifted his head slowly and nodded with a faint, forced smile.
Olivia stood beside him, her eyes gleaming with determination.
"Victory is ours this time... I'm sure of it."
Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the arena—one everyone recognized instantly:
"Welcome to the Grand Beryon Tournament!"
The world seemed to hold its breath as the voice of Frendz Konahi, Vice-Captain of the Hunters, filled the air.
"Last year, the Red Team triumphed with a million points, crushing the Blue Team, who barely reached half that. But this year... is different."
One by one, the team leaders were introduced, each name met with thunderous applause:
Kivai O'Frayne, Captain of the Red Team.
Alain Coras, Captain of the Black Team.
King, Captain of the Blue Team.
Sindra Kanai, Captain of the White Team.
Konri Senary, Captain of the Green Team.
And finally, the Royal Knights: Songai Gifray and Zerv Fron.
The crowd erupted, but amidst the chaos, Grind remained silent, his eyes tracing the leaders with something between longing and sorrow.
"Will the day ever come... when I stand among them?" he whispered to himself.
Dinko, as if reading his thoughts, grinned.
"You're capable of anything, my friend. Let's win and prove we're worthy of that dream."
Grind smiled—but it was a sad smile. Only Olivia noticed the pain behind it.
"I thought you had forgotten him... but the wound still bleeds," she thought, her heart aching.
"Will he ever return? He was my hero... my first love."
Frendz's voice cut through the noise once more:
"Now, the first round begins! Ten rounds, ten eliminations... and only one victor."
He gestured toward the glowing gates that materialized across the arena, each pulsing with a different hue.
"Beyond these gates, you will face Crimson-Type beasts. The team that slays the most... advances."
The teams surged forward, stepping into what looked like rifts in reality—gateways that breathed fire, inviting them in... or perhaps, devouring them.
The Massacre Begins
Team Earthspears entered their gate, five warriors brimming with confidence. But one of them, Droon, froze.
"Kaiyo... I saw the future," he muttered, trembling. "Blood... ashes... screams. We need to leave."
Before they could react, a voice colder than death itself spoke from the shadows:
"Running away? Abandoning your dreams so easily?"
A man clad in a shifting black cloak emerged—a deputy of the Black Mantle.
"You're not human... or even a beast," Kaiyo growled, raising his warhammer.
The battle was short.
Kaiyo's hammer struck with earth-shattering force—but the man didn't flinch.
Droon unleashed his rare ability, Aging Amplification, yet time itself refused to touch the enemy.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, the Black Mantle severed Droon's arm—only for it to regrow instantly.
"I can't teleport him away," Kani gasped. "His spiritual energy is suffocating!"
The man smiled.
"I admired your skills... but death is what perfects us."
A vortex of darkness swallowed them whole, leaving nothing but scattered ashes.
The Black Mantle's Wrath
The massacre didn't stop there.
The Black Mantle appeared in every gate, slaughtering team after team. The arena descended into chaos—families screamed for their lost children, hunters were accused of negligence, and the tournament turned into a bloodbath.
Dinko and Olivia collapsed, overwhelmed. The medic, Hirtha, whispered weakly before passing out:
"Kill them, Grind..."
Then Grind stepped forward—but the beasts at his side were invisible to everyone else.
The Black Mantle, now enraged, sneered:
"What? Too scared to fight me, you wretched brat? I'll tear you apart and hang your head in my chamber!"
Grind's voice was steady.
"Who leads you? Are you beasts... or humans? Why fight us instead of the monsters?"
The Black Mantle choked suddenly—Gran, the Black Lion, had used his ability to stop his breathing.
Gasping, the man spat out the truth:
"We are the monsters... created because of you."*
Grind's eyes widened.
The reality was far worse than he ever imagined.
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