The roar of the crowd buzzed in my ears as more matches passed by, one after another. I kept my focus, analyzing each fighter. It was a blur of blades and styles—some familiar, others less so—but nothing that threw me off. Each match brought me closer to the final round, and I could feel the anticipation building.

Finally, my turn came. The final match.

I stepped forward, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my sword. I'd been through plenty of battles today, but this one felt different. Something about it had my instincts on edge, though I wasn't sure why.

"Kirito, the Black Swordsman, step forward!"

I walked out into the arena, my armor reflecting the sunlight as I adjusted my grip. My opponent's name was called next.

"His opponent—Ejji!"

The name caught me off guard. Ejji? Who the hell was that? I'd heard rumors about most of the knights in this tournament, but this name was new. No origin, no last name—nothing. He was a complete unknown.

That unease I felt earlier began creeping back in.

Then I saw him. Ejji stepped into the arena, his movements eerily calm, almost like he wasn't affected by the pressure of the final round. He was wearing dark, lightweight clothing, not the usual heavy armor most knights favored. His face was partially obscured by the shadow of a hood, but I could make out his eyes—sharp and focused, almost too focused.

Something was off about him. Really off.

The crowd didn't seem to notice, though. They were roaring with excitement, completely oblivious to the tension I was feeling. I shook off the doubts and readied my sword, positioning myself for the opening strike.

"Begin!"

I rushed forward, aiming a quick slash at his side. He sidestepped easily, his movements almost too smooth, like he'd predicted my attack before I'd even swung. I followed up with another strike, faster this time, but he evaded that too, gliding out of reach with an unnatural grace.

He wasn't just fast—he was playing with me.

I circled around him, trying to find an opening, but he still hadn't drawn a weapon. His hands were empty, and that's when I realized: he wasn't planning on fighting me with a sword.

Before I could close the distance, Ejji raised one hand, and a strange pulse of energy rippled through the air.

I jumped back instinctively, just as a sharp gust of wind sliced past my arm, leaving a shallow cut. It stung, but more than that, it confirmed my suspicions. He was using arts—magic, to be exact.

Damn it. I'd dealt with magic users before, but none quite like this.

"Alright," I muttered, my grip tightening on my sword. "If that's how you want to play."

I activated one of my own arts—a quick, flashing sword skill designed for swift strikes. The blade glowed faintly as I dashed toward him again, slashing faster this time, not giving him any room to breathe.

He moved to dodge, but my speed had caught him off guard. My blade connected with his shoulder, and he staggered back, clutching the wound. I pressed the advantage, unleashing another series of strikes, each one faster and more precise. But then, something changed.

Ejji's expression shifted. There was no panic, no frustration—just cold calculation. His hand drifted toward his waist, and for the first time, I saw it. A blade materialized out of thin air, shimmering into existence as he drew it.

The sword was strange, almost otherworldly, with a dark, ethereal glow. It looked like it shouldn't exist, yet there it was, solid and lethal in his hand.

"Alright, now we're talking," I muttered under my breath, readying myself for the real fight.

Ejji's movements were different now, more direct. He swung his sword toward me, and I barely managed to parry the strike in time. The force behind his attack sent a shock up my arm, and I realized just how strong this guy was.

I grinned. Finally, a challenge.

We clashed again, our swords ringing out as we exchanged blow after blow. His style was strange—fluid, unpredictable—but I adapted quickly, matching his pace with my own. I activated another art, my blade glowing with a bright blue light as I launched into a powerful skill—Vertical Arc.

My sword sliced down in a sweeping arc, and Ejji blocked just in time. But the force of my attack drove him back a few steps. He grunted, his eyes narrowing, but I wasn't done. I chained the skill into a follow-up—Horizontal Square , a series of quick slashes that boxed him in. He deflected most of them, but one hit landed, grazing his side.

Blood dripped from the wound, but Ejji didn't even flinch. Instead, he countered with his own move—a dark wave of energy pulsing from his sword as he swung it toward me.

I braced myself, activating another art—Nova Ascension. My sword lit up in rapid flashes as I parried his attack, blocking the dark energy before it could reach me. Our blades collided in a burst of sparks, and for a moment, we were locked in a deadlock, neither of us giving an inch.

But I wasn't about to let him take control. I pushed forward, breaking the lock and driving him back again. I could see the strain starting to show in his movements. He was strong, but I had the edge now.

With a final, powerful strike, I broke through his defense. My blade sliced across his chest, sending him crashing to the ground. I stood over him, my sword poised for the finishing blow, but I hesitated.

There was something about the way he was looking at me. Something that felt... wrong.

He was down, the fight was over, but he wasn't afraid. His eyes, glowing with that unsettling light, stared up at me with something I couldn't quite place—something cold, something dangerous.

But the match was over.

I stepped back, sheathing my sword as the crowd erupted into cheers. The announcer's voice boomed through the arena. "The winner—Kirito, the Black Swordsman!"

I glanced down at Ejji as he was helped to his feet, his strange sword fading back into nothingness. For a moment, our eyes met again, and that feeling of unease crept back in.

He knew something. Something I didn't.

As he was led out of the arena, I couldn't shake the thought that this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.