A surge of energy explodes through Ken. His mind feels sharper, and he can only see opportunities.

  The crowds start chanting loudly, their cheers echoing around the city. Gold coins and poker chips fall from the black sky; they clink melodically upon impact. From Byron's lack of acknowledgement, it appears Ken is the only one who can see what is going on.

  “It's time for the grand finale!” The announcer shouts. “Will 798 lose it all?! Let's watch his final gamble!”

  Before Byron can take a step forward, Ken says, “I can land 1 punch in 5 seconds.”

  “Wh–” before Byron can argue, Ken appears before him and lands a powerful right cross on Byron's chest, throwing him back.

  Ken feels his arm growing stronger, but he doesn't have time to stop.

  2 punches, 5 seconds!

  Before Byron can regain balance, Ken throws a combination of two punches, both at blinding speeds.

  4 punches, 5 seconds.

  He throws four more, then eight, sixteen, and barely pulls off thirty-two punches. Each punch makes his heart beat faster, but he isn't making any progress. Byron's skin is tough, and his body is recovering from the bruises.

  The crowd roars with excitement, and the announcer maintains the tension. Ken jumps back to create distance between himself and Byron so that he can make a plan.

  He recalls what has happened during the fight until now.

  The only time he was hurt was when I cut him.

  He pulls out the multi-tool and activates its blade function. He suddenly jumps to the left, dodging one of Byron's blasts, focusing on his plan.

  Will this hurt him?

  Ken glances at the timer as he readies the weapon. Two minutes and twelve seconds.

  I can't bet money, but I can bet what I own, right?

  His grip tightens, and he says, “I bet the multi-tool I can cut Byron once in ten seconds.”

  “Deal!” the announcer shouts.

  The blade of the multi-tool becomes serrated. Taking this as a sign, Ken quickly steps toward Byron and lightly cuts him, a thread of blood painting the floor. The cut heals slowly before closing.

  Found it!

  With a way to hurt Byron, Ken continues. “Four cuts in ten seconds.”

  The multi-tool changes again, the tool changing shape and the blade becoming that of a dagger.

  The expression in Byron's face continues to twist in anger. He charges at Ken again, but is unable to keep up with his speed. He dodges Byron, and four deep cuts appear on his sides. The cuts heal more slowly than previously.

  This fight is over.

  “No…NO, NO, NO–” Byron shouts in anger. Eight cuts appear on his skin as Ken jumps back. They slowly close; the previous cuts still haven't closed.

  The multi-tool has changed in shape; the blade is a small saber.

  Byron stumbles to the floor, grunting as he gets up.

  “IT CAN'T END LIKE THIS! YOU HEAR ME! IT CA–” Byron is interrupted by sixteen cuts opening across his body. He stops himself from falling.

  Ken is holding a sword.

  “This is a sick joke!” Byron curses as he stumbles towards Ken, his body unable to hold in the air anymore. “Of all people I had to lose to…”

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  The cuts aren't healing anymore.

  In a flash, thirty-two cuts open on his body, his arms falling to the floor helplessly as they were cut through. Byron falls to his knees, unable to stand anymore.

  “I was destined for greatness…” Byron says. “To die like this…to a nobody?”

  Ken slowly approaches Byron, readying the sword.

  “But if I lost to you…that doesn't mean you're a nobody then.” Byron continues to ramble as Ken walks toward him.

  A minute remains on the timer.

  “To think you could always do this…heh…Now I see what they saw in you.”

  Ken feels his hand slightly tremble at the thought of killing Byron. Once he is gone, things can't return to where they once were.

  If only this moment could last forever.

  Byron and Ken's eyes meet as Ken stands in front of him, ready to deliver the final blow.

  Forty-five seconds left.

  The clink of poker chips and coins fills the air around him, numbing his thoughts. His heart lies still.

  “I know I don't deserve pity, Ken… but as a final request…” Byron struggles as his consciousness slowly slips away. ”Keep Senzo and Phenton’s will going.”

  “And why would I do that for you?” Ken asks.

  Thirty-five seconds remain.

  “Not for me…for them. You are the only one of us that's left.” A tear runs down Byron's cheek. “Phenton had Senzo write him a journal. He hid it in some cafe or something… You should take it.”

  Twenty seconds left.

  Ken raises the sword and prepares to put him to rest.

  “Good luck, Ken,” Byron says, closing his eyes.

  “As much as I hate you, I thank you guys for taking me in.” Ken takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

  Nine seconds left.

  His grip tightens on the handle.

  Eight.

  The world becomes silent, and he can only hear his heartbeat.

  Seven.

  His eyes slowly open.

  Six.

  “Goodbye, Byron.”

  Five.

  Ken's sword slices through the air. After a few seconds, he hears a heavy object hit the floor.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Our 798 proved that he is a true high roller. True to the name! As he won the bet of a lifetime, he will be getting more of it as well!” the announcer shouts, the crowd cheering and shouting. It's strange, he doesn't like it, nor does he hate it. “Let's see what he won!”

  A large billboard flies in, showing the results.

  ‘0 Remaining Years To Wager.

  45 Years Wagered.

  20 Years Lost.

  Major Stake: Won.

  Final Result…’

  Final result?

  The numbers on the board suddenly start spinning as if in a slot machine. The crowd becomes silent as the results are calculated. After a couple of seconds, the numbers slow down to a halt.

  ‘Congratulations!

  45 Years Won!’

  “AND OUR LUCKY PLAYER HAS WON HIMSELF 45 YEARS OF LIFE! GIVE HIM A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!” the announcer shouts louder than before. The crowd claps and whistles upon the result.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen. That is all for tonight! We hope you join us next time when our high roller joins us on the floor! Until then, good night!” The announcer says.

  The boards fly into the dark sky. After a few seconds, the black veil covering the sky slowly fades away with the cheers from the crowd. The coins and poker chips change into rain.

  He is unsure if any of that was real.

  He looks at Byron's decapitated corpse behind him and the transformed multi-tool in his hand; it is still a decorated sword.

  Ken kneels before the corpse and pulls a necklace from it. It has a small, strange sphere hanging from it. He keeps it to remember him.

  “May you finally find that peace you always needed,” Ken mutters.

  His thoughts are interrupted as a bright light shines from one of the nearby ruins. His battle concluded, he quickly walks toward it, curious about how the others are doing.

  As he walks, he realises his body healed during the fight. Perhaps one of the bets he made healed him unknowingly.

  Arriving at the ruins, he finds a tired-looking Agami. As he gets closer, it doesn't look like he notices him

  “Agami!” Ken shouts. “What happened to Baltro?”

  Agami slowly looks at him and answers, “He was vanquished.”

  Vannquished? They defeated him?!

  “Ken, I–”

  “He was!” Ken interrupts, surprised by the news. Without forethought, he quickly walks over the rubble to find Sora and Imino celebrating.

  Sora sees Ken standing there and shouts, “Yo, Kenken! We finally got Baltro!”