The arena sand shivers as the crowd explodes into noise. A massive gladiator, one of the Empire’s trained champions, lies broken at Tsuokira’s feet. His chest heaves in shallow, pained breaths. Her trident is buried in the sand beside his head, close enough that each exhale brushes against the metal.

Tsuokira stands steady, blood streaking her arms, her breathing calm and measured.

The chants rise again, louder and more confident. “Kira! Kira! Kira!”

They cannot say her name, but they can worship her.

Up on the announcer’s platform, a woman in imperial crimson fumbles with a polished crystal throat-cone. The device glows and vibrates, projecting her words across the entire coliseum. She is supposed to command the narrative. Instead, the crowd drowns her.

She tries again.

“By decree of his Imperial Majesty, User…” Her voice cracks through the crystal, magically amplified yet trembling.

“This match was intended to demonstrate the triumph of imperial order… over foreign treachery.”

The crowd laughs. She swallows. “The pirate… Tsu… Tsuoo…”

She squeezes her eyes shut and tries. “Tsuokira… Nha… Nha–zu… me.”

The mistake ripples across the stands like a wave of secondhand embarrassment.

Tsuokira turns her head toward the platform, the faintest arch of disapproval tightening her expression.

“Again,” she says. Her voice carries even without magic.

The announcer flinches, adjusts the crystal device, and forces it out a second time.

“Tsuokira Nhazume.”

A single calm nod from the pirate.

The crowd erupts again, cheering her corrected name. From the imperial box, User can only watch as the moment spins out of control.

The defeated gladiator groans, rolling slightly. Tsuokira rests the wooden haft of her trident across his throat, a gesture just shy of finality. Her gaze lifts toward the Emperor’s balcony.

The announcer’s voice trembles once more through the device.

“The victor stands ready… for Imperial judgement. The fate of the defeated lies in the hands of his Majesty… User.”

Tsuokira does not look at the announcer again.

Her eyes stay fixed on User.

She speaks softly, so the magic must work to carry her words across the sand.

“Another of your champions falls. Another attempt to bury me undone.”

Her foot presses down lightly on the sand near the man’s throat.

The trident shifts.

“The arena awaits your judgement.”

A pause.

“And so do I.”

Thumbs up to spare the fallen, thumbs down to end them…