"Compared to the behemoths on the isnd, this is nothing!" Qin Hong thought, his tactical retreat leaving Fritter stumbling forward with comical imbance. The nobleman's polished boots skidded across the polished obsidian training grounds as he facepnted with an undignified spt. From the gilded observation balcony above, Earlen's porcein complexion flushed crimson, her jeweled hairpins trembling with rage. "Fritter!" Her soprano voice cracked across the arena like a whip. "If you can't defeat this gutter-born wretch, don't bother crawling back to my chambers tonight!"
The humiliated knight scrambled up, his ceremonial armor cnking discordantly. A dangerous crimson glow began pulsing from his chest pte, tendrils of energy snaking through the intricate filigree patterns. Across the field, Worso's hand instinctively went to the psma pistol at his hip, its cooling vents already humming with pent-up energy. Haruko shifted her stance almost imperceptibly, the chains coiled around her forearms slithering like metallic serpents hungry for battle.
On the upper levels, You Hang nervously adjusted his antique spectacles. "Shouldn't we intervene? The High Council will have our heads if any of these pampered whelps get damaged." His companion Guann merely leaned against the bloodstone balustrade, swirling a goblet of crimson wine that matched the setting sun. "Rex, old friend. Remember our initiation? That time when Li Feng accidentally incinerated the entire eastern wing?" His ughter rang out, rich and unburdened. "Besides, eight of these brats are High Syndicate offspring. The old bastards finally caved letting their precious heirs receive Devil Fruits, though I'd wager half their DNA is probably backed up in gene banks somewhere."
You Hang's responding chuckle turned bitter. "Don't remind me. The Medicis tried to smuggle in three clones st week." His expression sobered as the arena below erupted in a nova of energy. "But seriously, shouldn't we-"
"Worry about Qin Hong?" Guann drained his wine, eyes glinting with dark amusement. "That boy could dismantle a battlecruiser with his pinky finger. I'm more concerned he'll accidentally vaporize this entire complex."
Below them, Fritter's transformation reached its grotesque crescendo. His right arm ballooned to elephantine proportions, veins pulsing like live cables beneath distended flesh. The titanic fist descended with a sonic boom, air pressure fttening the ornamental shrubs lining the arena. Yet Qin Hong stood motionless, his shadow stretching long and calm across the fractured tiles. At the st possible nanosecond, reality itself seemed to tear - a jagged violet rift materializing like the maw of some cosmic beast.
The ws of physics screamed in protest as Fritter's own fist emerged from a second rift behind him. The resounding crack of shattering vertebrae echoed sickeningly through the suddenly silent arena. Qin Hong knelt beside the twitching noble, examining the unnatural angle of his spine with clinical detachment. "You aimed to kill," he observed mildly, producing a crimson vial from his sleeve. The liquid within swirled with captured starlight, its luminescence casting eerie shadows as it seeped into Fritter's wounds.
Before the restored knight could even rise, Earlen was at Qin Hong's side, her earlier fury repced by manic glee. "Magnificent!" She cpped like a child at a puppet show, the scent of ozone intensifying as golden static danced through her ptinum curls. "Twenty million credits monthly! No, thirty! You'll have your own estate, servants, a harem if you desire!" Her manicured nails dug into his arm with possessiveness. "Just say you'll be mine!"
The temperature dropped twenty degrees as Haruko materialized between them, chains now fully manifested and singing with harmonic resonance. "He. Is. Mine." Each word fell like a guillotine bde. Earlen's eyes bzed nuclear gold, the air crackling with ionized particles. Observers scrambled back as ornamental stones began levitating in the building electromagnetic storm.
The detonation never came. A thundercp shook the arena, leaving everyone's ears ringing. Guann stood amidst fading lightning tendrils, his casual robes undisturbed by the residual energy. "Children, children," he tutted, though his eyes held winter's edge. "Save the theatrics for actual enemies." You Hang emerged from the smoke dragging a cowering Fritter, his normally schorly demeanor repced by gcial authority. "Next duelist who forgets this is a training ground," he said pleasantly, "loses their inheritance rights. Permanently."
As the chastened nobles formed ranks, a new presence entered the arena. Bel Stormwind's thigh-high boots clicked rhythmically against the tiles, her crimson-and-onyx combat suit shimmering with nanotech armor. "Darling Guann," she purred, embracing the lightning-wielder with lethal grace. "Still collecting strays, I see." Her gaze swept over the recruits like a scalpel. "Let's see which of you delicate flowers survives the first frost."
The subsequent roll call unfolded like a grotesque parody of high society:
"Earlen di Medici - Radiant Core lineage. Crude oil syndicate." The blonde preened, adjusting her diamond-crusted choker.
"Naia Rockwell - Titan's Pulse. Mineral conglomerates." A mountain of muscle in a ballgown blew sarcastic kisses.
"Fritter Baldrich & Jack Mortem - Colossus Form and Berserker's Heart." The restored knight bowed deeply while his gothic companion merely hissed.
As Bel reached the final names, her holographic interface paused. "Qin Hong... Spacial Rift abilities. Recommender - Guann Stormrider?" Her bloodred lips curved. "How curious." She circled him like a shark scenting blood, fingertips brushing the air where spatial distortions still lingered. "Tell me, little riftwalker - does your mentor still wake screaming from the Voidfrost Incident?"
Before Qin Hong could respond, she whirled away with a ugh that promised storms. "Group assignments commence at dawn. Pray your chosen allies don't stab you in the back before sunrise." Her parting wink held centuries of secrets. "The real game begins now, children. Try not to die too quickly."
As twilight deepened, the arena's automated systems began repairing battle scars. Somewhere in the shadows, a monitor dispyed biometric readouts for all twelve recruits - each carefully tagged with corporate logos and assassination risk assessments. The true training had yet to begin.
