"Ready, set, FIGHT!" S.E.I.D.'s announcement echoed through the arena, and Yoku immediately sprang into action.
"BULLET WHEEL: DUAL PISTOLS!" he called out, his signature weapons materializing in his hands with streams of yellow energy. The pistols gleamed with supernatural polish, their barrels seeming to shift and flow like liquid gold as his spirit energy coursed through them.
"And the battle starts to heat up!" the first announcer declared as the crowd leaned forward in anticipation.
"Do you really think you can hit me with those lousy guns?" Osore asked with casual dismissal, his unremarkable appearance making his confidence seem almost surreal.
"Of course I can—can't embarrass myself in front of everyone," Yoku replied, though his grip tightened on his weapons as he studied his opponent's relaxed posture.
"I'm glad you think so. TRICK ROOM!" Osore announced.
The arena floor suddenly erupted with a shimmering dome of energy that enveloped both fighters, cutting them off from the outside world. The transparent barrier pulsed with an otherworldly light that made everything within appear distorted to the watching crowd.
"Woah, what's going on? The ring is covered in some kind of force field!" the second announcer exclaimed.
In the stands, Kamira gripped the railing with white knuckles. "I hope Yoku is OK in there."
"He'll be OK. He's got this," Romaji said with forced confidence, then whispered under his breath, "*I hope.*"
---
### **Inside the Trick Room**
"What is this?" Yoku demanded, spinning around as the world inside the dome took on an unnatural quality. The arena floor seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions, and the air itself felt thick with illusion.
"This is my room, where I control everything," Osore replied, his voice now coming from multiple directions at once. "Like twelve of me. Hahaha!"
Suddenly, the space filled with identical copies of Osore, each one moving with perfect coordination and malicious intent.
"Huh! BULLET WHEEL: SUBMACHINE GUN! HAAA!" Yoku transformed his pistols into a rapid-fire weapon, unleashing a torrent of spirit-enhanced bullets at the army of clones.
"It's cute that you think you can stop me with this! You can't even find the real me!" Osore's laughter came from everywhere and nowhere. "The more clones you kill, the more I make!"
Indeed, for every clone that dissolved under Yoku's gunfire, two more seemed to take its place, like a hydra of illusion.
"Come out, coward! Take this thing down!" Yoku shouted, his ammunition beginning to run low.
"Hahahaha... No," came the mocking reply.
"Woah, woah, there's too many of them," Yoku muttered as the clones began to surround him in an ever-tightening circle.
The assault was sudden and overwhelming. Dozens of hands grabbed at him, pulling him down into a writhing mass of identical attackers. Fists and feet struck from all angles, each blow feeling completely real despite their illusory nature.
"AHHH! VANTAGE POINT!" Yoku screamed, activating his teleportation ability to escape the pile of clones.
He materialized several feet away, breathing heavily and clearly injured. Blood trickled from his nose, and he favored his left arm as he assessed his situation.
"Damn, feels like my arm is broken and a few broken ribs too," he gasped.
"Did you really think I'd let you get away to breathe?" Osore's voice came from directly behind him.
Before Yoku could react, a devastating kick struck him in the back, sending him sprawling face-first onto the illusory ground.
"*Cough, cough*... blood, huh?" Yoku said, wiping crimson from his mouth as he struggled to his hands and knees.
"Why do you get back up? I don't want to kill you—that'll mean I'd be disqualified," Osore said, though his tone suggested he was considering whether disqualification might be worth it.
"I don't like you," Yoku wheezed, forcing himself to stand despite the obvious pain. "Like, at all. I really wanna stop fighting now, but my friends are depending on me to win this."
"Why would I care if you do or not? This is a tournament!" Osore replied with genuine confusion.
"Huh... this is gonna suck. RICOCHET BULLET!" Yoku called out, firing a single shot that bounced wildly off the invisible walls of the Trick Room.
"I told you this before—you can't hit me or my clones!" Osore laughed.
"Wasn't supposed to. It's a distraction for this!" Yoku replied with a pained grin.
Suddenly, explosions erupted throughout the Trick Room as hidden charges detonated in sequence, creating chaos among the army of clones.
"What are you doing?" Osore demanded, his confidence finally cracking.
"Improvising! CLUSTER GRENADE!" Yoku announced as more explosions rocked the illusory space.
"When did you have time to make those?" Osore asked, genuine alarm creeping into his voice.
"While you and your clones were beating on me, I was busy making them," Yoku explained, blood still dripping from his injuries but his spirit burning brighter than ever.
"Impossible! My clones won't come back!" Osore exclaimed as his duplicates failed to regenerate from the explosive damage.
"I also put a bit of gunpowder on you before the fight started, so I could find you! CLUSTER GRENADE!" Yoku called out, another explosion erupting dangerously close to where Osore stood.
"You still can't hit me in my room!" Osore protested, but uncertainty had replaced his earlier arrogance.
"Don't have to," Yoku said quietly.
Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around Osore from behind, holding him in an unbreakable grip.
"How'd you get behind me? Let me go!" Osore struggled frantically.
"A second Vantage Point, of course! I'm not losing this!" Yoku declared, his voice carrying the determination of someone who had found his second wind.
"No, no, no!" Osore pleaded as he realized what was about to happen.
"Ready! SULFUR CLUSTER GRENADE!" Yoku shouted, the explosive materializing in his free hand with a distinctive yellow glow.
"NO!" Osore screamed.
The explosion that followed was catastrophic within the confined space of the Trick Room. The illusory dome shattered like glass, its fragments dissolving into sparkles of dissipating energy as both fighters were engulfed in smoke and flame.
---
### **The Aftermath**
"Woah, the field fell! Who won?" the first announcer called out as the smoke began to clear.
"They're both still standing," Mīgan observed, though her voice carried concern for both combatants.
Indeed, both fighters remained upright, though barely. Yoku swayed dangerously, his clothes singed and his face blackened with soot. Across from him, Osore stood with obvious effort, his previously pristine appearance now reflecting the battle he'd just endured.
Then Yoku stumbled, taking a single step backward.
And Osore collapsed completely, falling face-first onto the arena floor.
"And the winner is Yokudan Baka!" both announcers declared simultaneously.
"WOOOOO!" the crowd erupted in appreciation for the spectacular display they'd just witnessed.
"Ms. Mīgan, please get me to the nurse," Yoku said weakly before his legs finally gave out and he collapsed beside his defeated opponent.
"Spirit South strikes first with a win under their belt!" the announcers continued as medical personnel rushed onto the arena floor.
"Is he alright?" Kamira called out with concern.
"Yeah, he just used a lot of spirit energy, is all," Mīgan replied, though she was already coordinating with the medical team to ensure both fighters received proper attention.
As Yoku was carried away on a stretcher, his teammates could see the satisfied smile on his unconscious face. He'd gotten his revenge against the illusion user, but more importantly, he'd proven that determination and tactical thinking could overcome seemingly insurmountable odds.
"Now for the next match," the announcers continued, allowing the crowd's excitement to build for the next confrontation.
"The next match will be... Aoi Raitoningu from Spirit East," S.E.I.D. announced.
"Don't remember seeing her," Mashū observed, scanning the competitor area for their next opponent.
"Versus Sans Kemuri from Spirit North," S.E.I.D. concluded.
As the arena was prepared for the next battle, the Seishin South team felt a renewed sense of confidence. Yoku's victory had proven that their unconventional tactics and unwavering determination could compete with the more experienced schools.
But the tournament was far from over, and each victory would be harder-earned than the last.
The real tests were still to come.