The First Men Chronicles

Chapter 23: Into the Lion's Den and a New Match

The chapter opened with a soft ripple of energy as Mujin, along with Madagascar and Portgas still encased in his Restricting Order: Roman Cube, appeared in the grand Lannister House Building. The fortress loomed majestically, with its intricate stone architecture and massive flags bearing the iconic Lion's Head crest fluttering proudly in the wind.

The trio landed directly in the training ground, a wide, open space surrounded by rows of weapons, training dummies, and observing balconies. The air was crisp, heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and faint traces of Shen energy lingering in the atmosphere.

Inside the cube, Madagascar and Portgas floated silently, still recovering from their fight. Mujin approached the floating prison with an amused expression, holding a seal etched with the word "Tobu" (meaning to fly). With a casual snap of his fingers, the cube shattered into glowing shards, and both fighters dropped to the ground with an audible thud.

Madagascar winced as he clutched his bleeding chest, but before he could speak, Mujin stepped forward, placing a glowing hand over the wound. The injury instantly sealed, the pain fading as warmth spread through Madagascar's body.

From the fortress gates leading into the training ground, a young man dressed in sleek, combat-ready gear approached. His sharp features and focused expression radiated confidence as he stopped and greeted Mujin with a respectful bow.

"Master Mujin," the boy said. "It's good to see you."

"Ah, Soji!" Mujin greeted with a wide grin. "You're not slacking off, are you?"

Soji smirked. "Never. Are these the new recruits?"

Mujin shook his head with a chuckle. "Not exactly. Let's just say they needed a little… guidance."

Portgas, still seated on the ground, rubbed the back of his head. "How the hell did you bring us here so fast?"

Mujin tilted his head playfully, pointing to the seal in his hand. "This? It's a little trick I call Tobu. It lets me jump wherever I want. Neat, right?"

Madagascar remained silent, his expression pensive, until finally, he spoke. "Why did you stop us? I don't know what came over me… I just didn't want to lose to him."

Mujin laughed. "It happens. But the tournament isn't a death match—it's a selection process. You boys almost froze and blew up the whole crowd. Not exactly the best way to impress anyone."

He turned to Portgas and Madagascar, crossing his arms. "That said, I've already got Tito in the Lannister House. But if either of you wants to join, I wouldn't mind adding another strong fighter to my roster. What do you say?"

Madagascar's face lit up. "I've always liked the Lannister House. Count me in!"

Portgas, still hesitant, shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm more interested in the Shadow House."

Mujin shrugged. "Suit yourself. Welcome aboard, Madagascar . And don't worry, Madagascar—you'll be back to full strength soon enough."

With that, Mujin clapped Soji on the back. "Take care of these two while I head back. Oh, and Portgas? Madagascar? A word of advice: don't piss off Soji. He may be an A-ranker, but he hits like an S-ranker when he's mad."

Soji smirked. "I'll keep them in line."

Mujin raised the Tobu seal, muttering the word aloud. Instantly, his body dissolved into shimmering light, vanishing from the training ground. He reappeared in the VIP section of the tournament arena, landing smoothly in his chair next to a glowing Tobu seal etched into the floor.

"Back already?" Thomas teased, leaning lazily in his seat. "What a showoff."

Mujin grinned, leaning back casually. "What can I say? It's all in the flair."

The Next Fight: Tag Team

The crowd buzzed with excitement as the commentator's voice boomed across the arena. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE NEXT MATCH IS HERE!"

The screen displayed four names in bold letters:

Lee and Sakamoto vs. Wang and Silva.

The crowd erupted into cheers and frantic whispers, but this time, it wasn't just murmurs—it was full-blown conversations between the fans.

"Wait a second! Did they just say Sakamoto? Is that the same guy who had that crazy transformation earlier?" one fan asked, leaning toward his friend.

The other replied, wide-eyed. "I mean, who even is that guy? He's a total wildcard!"

"Wildcard? Try a walking death wish.

"Okay, but don't sleep on Wang," another fan chimed in from the row behind. "The guy's never lost a fight in the tournament so far. He's got speed, precision, and Shen manipulation that's practically high-grade. He's dangerous."

"Pfft, doesn't matter. Sakamoto's transformation alone was enough to give me chills. And he's partnered with Lee. You know, the guy who practically lives to fight? He's failed multiple times in different timelines trying to get selected."

The second fan leaned forward, whispering dramatically, "I heard Lee's only flaw is that he's reckless. If they can't sync as a team, Wang and Silva might tear them apart."

The fan from behind laughed. "That's if Sakamoto doesn't end the fight with one swing of that creepy axe of his. Did you see it? That thing looks cursed!"

Another fan in the next row chuckled, leaning over. "This match is going to be insane. My money's on Wang and Silva, though. They're too disciplined to lose to a sloppy team."

The first fan waved him off. "Nah, Sakamoto's got this. Just watch. He's not normal."