"The third round is over. Now accepting participants for round four," Lero Ro announced.
Khun pulled out a strip of blue cloth from his bag and tied his hair into a small ponytail, his usual flowing hair now neatly drawn back.
Rak glanced at the field. Only three teams stepped forward.
"Hah! Just three? I'll crush them all in an instant."
Khun held out a hand. "No. Let's rest this one out."
One of the opposing team leaders raised his voice. "I suggest we form a temporary alliance. Let's take down the crown-holders first. Then we settle it among ourselves."
The teams nodded in agreement, repeating the strategy from earlier rounds: combine forces, then compete once Baam's team was out.
But then—chaos.
Without warning, one of the allied teams turned on the other. Ambushed and unprepared, the betrayed team crumpled quickly.
On the throne, Baam blinked in surprise. "Khun… did you know this would happen?"
Khun smirked. "Of course. They're with us."
"What?"
"Remember the first test? When 400 Regulars were reduced to 200. I handpicked a few and brought them into my bag. During the break, I let them out and gave instructions."
Baam glanced at the blue band around Khun's hair. "So that was a signal?"
Khun nodded. "Tying my hair like this meant it was time to move. Of course you didn't notice—if your trump card's obvious, it's useless."
He leaned back slightly. "Honestly, I didn't want to use them yet. But we have to win."
Meanwhile, the remaining unaffiliated team lunged at Khun's secret allies—only to be dismantled in seconds.
---
"The fourth round goes to Baam, Khun, and Rak," Lero Ro declared. "Final round incoming. Press your buzzers to participate."
Click.
The doors slid open. Several teams emerged.
Khun and Rak stood flanking the throne, eyes sharp, bodies tensed to protect Baam, who sat silently wearing the crown.
No one tried to form alliances this time. Every weaker team had already been eliminated.
Three cloaked figures stepped forward from the far end of the arena.
To the right, another team appeared: a masked woman in a skintight suit, flanked by two men—one wielding twin swords.
Two more teams followed.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then—
Whoosh!
The woman in black blurred forward. Her metallic staff spun like a wheel of steel as she dashed toward the nearest team.
Her first opponent didn't even react in time—one blow and he was down.
A monstrous man swung a fist, but she flipped over him, kicked his face midair, and smashed her staff down on his skull.
The last tried to flee. He made it three steps before she struck him unconscious.
The second team jumped in to stop her, but it was futile. They, too, were swiftly overwhelmed—precision strikes, flowing motion, brutal efficiency.
"Raaaaa!" Rak roared, hurling his red spear toward her.
She skidded to a halt and narrowly dodged, then countered with a flurry of strikes and a sharp kick to his side.
Rak stumbled back, growled, and swung his spear wide.
She backflipped twice, agile and light.
Rak lunged with a follow-up kick, but she blocked with her staff and launched herself upward, flipping midair.
Crack!
Her staff slammed down hard into Rak's face.
---
To the side, a swordsman closed in on Khun.
Khun leaned back, narrowly evading the first blow. The man followed with a flurry of slashes—sharp, relentless. Khun weaved through them, his eyes sharp.
Shung!
A knife flashed from Khun's bag, meeting steel. The clash rang out across the arena.
---
Elsewhere, the woman in the black bodysuit slipped past Rak.
Whirrl\~
With a sudden leap, she shot toward Baam, still seated atop the throne—unguarded and unaware.
Rak tried to intervene but was intercepted by her teammate, locked in combat.
Just as the staff-wielding woman closed in on Baam, another figure intercepted her mid-air—boot meeting stomach.
Crash!
The masked woman tumbled backward, sliding across the arena floor.
She rolled to her feet, warily eyeing the newcomer: a cloaked woman with brown hair. Beside her loomed a tall, robed figure with jagged red teeth visible beneath his hood.
Undeterred, the masked woman launched herself again, staff sweeping. The cloaked girl met her blow with force. Their weapons clashed in a fierce exchange.
---
Meanwhile, Khun danced between strikes, parrying and retreating. He flipped backward and hurled several knives in a tight spread.
His opponent deflected most of them, but one grazed his shoulder—drawing blood.
Across the field, Rak finally overpowered his opponent and turned just in time to see the two women clashing—staff against fists, speed against precision.
Khun narrowed his eyes.
Why are they helping us?
But he shoved the thought aside. Another blade came for him. He ducked, raised his bag to block—and suddenly, boom!—his bag burst open, and a storm of knives shot upward.
Startled, the swordsman glanced skyward.
In that moment, Khun slipped behind him and delivered a clean slash across his back.
As the knives rained down around them, Khun peeked at the timer in his pocket.
Less than 30 seconds left.
This game… is ours.
---
Near the throne, the brown-haired girl stood firm. "You won't get past. This ends here."
Her opponent said nothing, only charged.
They clashed again—strike, block, spin, kick. A loud crack echoed as a powerful kick landed.
The cloaked girl stumbled—her heels breaking under the strain.
The masked woman seized her chance, sweeping a string underfoot and toppling her opponent before retreating.
The robed figure beside Rachel lashed out at the masked woman but missed. She darted past and attacked the cloaked girl, striking her head.
Swish!
The hood flew off, revealing a freckled girl.
Baam's eyes widened.
"Rachel!"
His body tensed. He wanted to rush to her—but he couldn't.
Leaving the throne meant forfeiting the game.
And the Black March.
He gritted his teeth.
Swish!
From above, the masked woman launched another attack.
Baam didn't think. He grabbed the Black March beside him and swung with desperate force.
DING!
The weapons collided.
In a single stroke, the Black March sliced through the staff and kept going.
AHHH!
A scream ripped through the arena.
The masked woman collapsed, her mask torn, one eye bleeding. She writhed on the ground, clutching her face.
RING\~
A chime echoed through the air.
"Attention all Regulars," Lero Ro's voice rang out.
"The Crown Game is over. The winners: Khun, Baam, and Rak!"
Gasps and stunned silence followed.
The room was still.
They had won.