I twisted a block this way and that, but nothing lined up. My fingers slipped on the slick edges, sweat making them impossible to grip. I tried forcing it anyway, hoping brute strength would be enough, but the piece jammed halfway and stuck.
Across the arena, Ogon hammered another section of his flame puzzle into place. The crowd erupted, chanting his name in unison.
I risked a glance at Miki. The fire beneath her roared higher, heat licking around the platform. She shrieked, thrashing against her chains.
I yanked the useless block free and tossed it into the basket with a hollow clatter. My heart pounded as I dug for another, praying it would fit, praying I wasn’t already too far behind.
Ogon was already reaching for his next piece. His speed was terrifying, his strength making the oversize blocks look like toys in his hands. Every slam brought another burst of heat, another scream from Miki, another cheer from the stands.
“Ogon no Hono! Ogon no Hono! Ogon no Hono!”
My hands fumbled through the basket, every block always the wrong shape. Heat rolled off the pit, prickling my skin. Miki’s screams shredded me inside, but I forced myself not to look.
Another roar erupted as Ogon drove his next piece into place. Miki shrieked, her voice breaking. It only seemed to feed the crowd’s bloodlust.
I grabbed a new block, heart hammering, and pressed it into the frame. For a moment it stuck; then it slid cleanly into place.
Steam hissed as water poured onto the fire below, the flames sputtering lower. The crowd gasped, a ripple of surprise rolling through them. For a heartbeat, their chanting faltered.
I could hear Miki crying. I let myself glance up at her. “Hold on,” I whispered. “Just hold on.”
Then I turned back to the basket and dug for the next piece.
Jiro
Kill forward!
The four of us drove ahead, shoulder to shoulder, into the Chopmen. They braced in a line, spears leveled, shields raised. If we could break through, nothing would stop us from reaching Akiko and Miki. I trusted the men at my side completely.
Masaki hadn’t slowed once since switching sides. Cutting down his own didn’t faze him in the least. Sora tore through everything in his path, blood spraying with each kill. Kai held steady beside me, jabbing at anything that dared move as our line closed in on the Chopmen ahead.
Masaki hit their line first. He ducked under a jab, swept low, and stabbed the legs behind the shield. The Chopman collapsed, screaming, and Masaki drove his spear through him.
Sora slammed shoulder first into a shield, sending the man behind it sprawling, then planted his spear into the fallen body. Kai nearly got skewered trying to jab low, but I shoved my spear into his attacker’s side, giving us the opening we needed.
The Chopmen’s line cracked, and at last the path to the center opened.
Akiko
I slid another block into place, and a hiss of steam signaled the flames dipping down. The crowd groaned—I was spoiling their fun. Sweat ran into my eyes, and I wiped it away with my sleeve. My arms ached from the endless lifting and twisting, every breath coming harder.
But the relief didn’t last. The fire roared back to life, hotter than before, licking up my spine. Ogon had driven a block into place, then another right behind it. Two in a row.
The chant of his name rattled my confidence. I froze, the block heavy in my hands. Miki’s screams forced me to move again. I turned the piece around, trying to make it fit, but nothing lined up.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ogon’s puzzle nearly complete. Piece by piece, he was pulling victory closer while I slipped further behind.
My fingers fumbled on the slick edges. Why wouldn’t it fit? What was I doing wrong?
Ogon was down to his last two pieces. The crowd was already on its feet, chanting his name like the outcome had been decided. I glanced at Miki. The fire surged higher, wrapping around the platform and cloaking her in heat and smoke. She screamed for me, her voice cracking. I wanted to shout back that I was coming, that I could still save her—but the truth pressed cold against my chest.
I couldn’t win this way. Not against him. Not like this.
My eyes caught sight of something familiar: my shield. It lay on the arena floor not far from me.
Masaki’s words came back to me: Don’t be afraid to use it as a weapon… Ram it into your opponent.
I stared at the block in my hands, then dropped it back into the basket. The puzzle challenge was lost—I knew it, just as I knew the fire under Miki was about to swallow her whole.
