**Volume 2: Upper World**

  **Chapter 67: The Man Killer Arc**

  January 3rd, 5:27 p.m. – Central Triple Arena (Cam vs Max)

  The air in the left pit hung heavy with the metallic stink of blood and the ozone burn of clashing auras — orange flames licking at the edges of Max’s shadows, green light pulsing like a heartbeat from Cam’s wolves. The stone floor was scarred deep: gouges from claws, black scorch marks from echo detonations, red smears where blood had splashed and dried in seconds under the floodlights. The crowd's roar had faded to a low, hungry buzz — 20,000 voices holding their breath, sensing the end was close. The big screens split the view: Max's jackpot wheel still spinning faint above his head, Cam's green aura flickering like a dying bulb.

  Max stood there — eyes wide, mouth open in that shocked gasp — the knife still buried in his back. Cam’s hand on the hilt, fingers slick with blood, twisting once before pulling back. Max’s blue shirt darkened fast around the wound, red blooming like a flower opening too quick. He stumbled forward one step — knees buckling — but caught himself, hand pressing to his lower back where the blade had gone in deep, between the ribs, nicking something vital.

  He signed it — fast, desperate — fingers flashing 444 in glowing orange symbols above his palm. Healing energy surged — faint at first, then brighter — knitting the wound closed from the inside. The bleeding slowed to a trickle. He straightened — slow — and yanked the knife out with a wet suck. Blood dripped from the blade, hitting the stone in fat drops that looked black under the lights.

  Cam yelled in pain — sharp, raw — as Max spun and threw the knife back at him. It sank into Cam’s arm — bicep — blade burying to the hilt. Cam clutched it — face twisting — blood pouring hot down his sleeve, staining his gray jacket dark. He yelled again — high, broken — but gripped the hilt and pulled it out with a grunt. The knife clattered away, red-smeared.

  Max walked forward — slow at first — legs shaky from the stab, but he kept going. Then he fell — knees hitting the ground hard, palms slapping stone. Blood pooled under him from the back wound — even with the healing, it wasn’t instant. He looked at the sword lying a few feet away — pact edge glowing faint red — but didn’t grab it. Too risky. Even now, with the jackpot state holding him together, picking it up could tip the gamble wrong. High stakes. High cost.

  He got up — slow — aura growing brighter, orange flames licking up his arms, mixing with the shadows in swirling patterns like molten lava through black smoke. His eyes burned blue — bright, electric — tears still wet on his cheeks.

  Cam took the knife out of his arm — blood gushing — but he clapped once, green glow flaring around the wound. Healing surged — learned from Hiro during those late-night training sessions in the academy basement, back when everything was just "ready to become badass." The cut knitted closed — slow, painful — leaving a fresh scar pink against his skin. He stood straighter — aura weakening a little from the stab, but still green and steady.

  Max started spinning — 500 lots at once — glowing wheels appearing above his head in a massive roulette storm. Numbers flashed rapid-fire — too fast to track — the crowd gasping as the orange aura pulsed with each spin. Sky watched from the stands — heart racing, tears falling slow down his face. He looked down — hands clenched in his lap — knowing one of them wasn’t winning. Not both. Not today.

  Max started punching Cam fast and hard — supersonic circles closing in, fists blurring orange-black, each hit landing with wet thuds that echoed through the dome. Cam blocked one — took another to the jaw — blood spraying from his mouth in a colorful arc that caught the floodlights like red mist. He staggered — green aura flickering — but kicked Max in the face mid-combo. Boot connected with chin — Max’s head snapped back, tears flying from his eyes in the impact.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Then — 12 lots unlocked at once.

  The wheels stopped — numbers flashing bright: 223, 582, 273, 739, 878, 629, 692, 242, 630, 831, ??????, ??.

  Jackpot.

  Max’s aura exploded — orange-black flames turning golden-red, strength surging like a dam breaking. Narration echoed in the dome's speakers, Josh’s voice flat but awed: "This Max's jackpot state is stronger than most SS+ from the Edo era and modern era. Until Max’s fight is done, he does not run out of will energy. He can move faster than speedsters — which Sky is above that level when he is in his mode. Max is using all of his energy that can't run out. He can heal instantly. And he can also Azure Flash at will."

  Max moved — a blur — punching Cam very hard, very fast. Each hit landed with bone-crunching force — Cam’s green aura cracking under the assault. One punch to the gut — Cam doubled over — another to the jaw — blood flying in colorful sprays that glittered under the lights like crimson fireworks. Cam got flinged into a hard metal bar at the arena edge — body slamming with a clang that rang through the dome. He hit the ground hard — green aura weakening, wolves whimpering as they reformed around him.

  Max’s aura grew brighter — strength swelling with every breath, every step. He picked up the sword from the ground — transferred some of his will energy into it — blade glowing orange-black, pact edge flaring like molten steel.

  He cut — clean arc — slicing one of Cam’s arms off at the elbow.

  Cam screamed — high, raw — stump spraying red in a vivid arc that painted the stone. His green aura weakened further — flickering like a candle in wind — but Max’s grew stronger, brighter, orange-black flames roaring higher.

  Each time Max picked up the sword — memories hit them both, hit Sky in the stands, colorful flashes exploding in their minds like old home movies played on fast-forward.

  The park — kid Max, Cam, Sky racing on swings, laughing under green trees, sun dappled on their faces, Max yelling "legends forever!" as they jumped off mid-swing.

  The pool with the girls — summer splash fights, Max dunking Cam, Cam splashing back, Sky in the background with Frosty, water droplets glittering like diamonds in the sun, everyone smiling like the world was theirs.

  Out to eat — greasy diner table, three of them sharing fries, Max stealing Cam’s milkshake, Cam fake-punching him, Sky rolling his eyes but laughing, neon lights from the sign outside casting colorful glows on their faces.

  Playing the game — late night in the dorm, controllers in hand, Max and Cam yelling at the screen, Sky on the bed watching, popcorn spilling everywhere, room lit blue from the TV glow.

  The memories stopped.

  Max’s eyes filled with tears — hot, burning — as he looked at Cam on the ground, arm gone, blood pooling under him.

  He lifted the sword higher — orange-black energy pulsing along the blade.

  Cam smiled — weak, blood on his teeth — looking up at Max.

  “I don’t regret it. Being your friends. Nor helping you in basketball back then.”

  Max’s tears started falling — hot tracks down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his face.

  “No… don’t say that.”

  Cam lifted his remaining arm — shaky — grabbed Max’s jacket, pulled him down close. Max knelt — sword still in hand — leaning in so Cam could whisper his last words.

  “You and Sky were the true friends. My favorite.”

  Cam’s hand dropped.

  He fell back — eyes open — body still.

  Max sat there — sword clattering away — looking at what he’d done. Tears falling faster now — splashing on Cam’s chest. The green aura faded — wolves dissolving into wisps that curled around Max for a second before vanishing completely.

  Max released the jackpot state — aura dying down to nothing, orange flames flickering out. He felt empty — will energy drained for the first time in the fight, broken ribs throbbing like knives, headache pounding like his skull might split. But the pain in his chest was worse. He looked at Sky in the stands — tears still falling — eyes begging for it to not be real.

  The announcer’s voice cut through — flat.

  “Cam vs Max complete. Max advances.”

  Max stood a few seconds — swaying — then walked out. He looked at the "new" people in the stands — the ones who’d left right after the fight started, hoods up, faces shadowed. Something was up with them. He knew it. But he couldn’t care right now.

  Who won Jackson vs Jamie? Jackson — gravity crush ended it quick, Jamie’s memory wipe never landed.

  7-minute break.

  Max walked back to the dorm tunnel — slow, feet dragging — and saw them: Frosty and Sky waiting, Kira, Hiro, Mira, Aoi, Taka close behind.

  Max looked at Frosty first — then Sky.

  They had a group hug — all of them pulling in close — arms around shoulders, heads bowed together. No words. Just quiet sobs from Hiro, a shaky breath from Mira, Aoi’s silent tears. Max in the middle — held tight — like they were trying to keep him from falling apart.

  Mara got his fighting clothes on — black shirt and blue pants, both baggy — and sat down on the dorm bench. He looked at the group — void eye glowing steady.

  “Well… it’s time to get real from here.”

  The chapter ended with the start of the **Man Killer Arc** — the tournament's final phase, where the remaining players turn on each other in 2v2s, 3v3s, and all-out fights with no rules, 24/7, until only 1853 are left from the 1907 still breathing.

  To be continued…