The First Men Chronicles

Draven's body radiated raw energy as he released an explosive burst of power. His eyes transformed dramatically, their appearance shifting into two interlocking triangles glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. The sharp golden edges of the triangles contrasted against his dark pupils, creating an almost hypnotic effect, as if ancient power itself resided within them.

In the VIP section, Cade leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he muttered to himself, "The All Creation eyes, huh? I didn't expect to see such a rare ability from someone so young."

He adjusted his coat slightly, his voice low but filled with curiosity. "The All Creation… an exceptional eye. Enhances every sense—physical and mental. Heightened speed, reflexes, perception. It carries the will of the past. Dangerous… and very, very rare."

His sharp gaze didn't leave the arena. "But he's young," Cade murmured to himself. "Too young. He doesn't know how to use it properly yet I can tell. What a waste of talent."

Draven's body blurred as he dwarfed forward in a zigzag pattern, his movements erratic and impossible to predict. His feet barely touched the ground as he circled around Sakamoto, his glowing eyes scanning every detail of his opponent with predatory precision.

Sakamoto's masked face turned rapidly, trying to keep up with Draven's steps. "What the—?! He's gotten faster! Way faster!"

Before Sakamoto could fully process what was happening, a powerful punch slammed into the side of his face. CRACK! His head snapped to the side. Another punch followed, this time from the opposite direction, sending him staggering backward.

The crowd roared in excitement, the sound of their cheers echoing throughout the stadium.

"Draven! Draven!" they chanted, some spectators standing in their seats and pumping their fists.

"Did you see that?!" a man in the stands shouted.

"He's unstoppable now!" another yelled.

Blood began to drip from beneath Sakamoto's mask, splattering onto the floor. He touched the edge of his mask, his fingers coming away red.

"Blood," he muttered. "Great. My own blood. This just keeps getting better."

Glancing at the large clock above the arena, Sakamoto saw the time: 10:38 PM. A realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"Grandma's meds!" he exclaimed. "I need to finish this quick before she skips them again. Damn it, why now?"

His grip on his axe tightened, his knuckles white beneath his gloves. He bent his knees and leaped into the air, the motion powerful enough to crack the floor beneath him but it wasn't him if was another of himself.

With a loud WHOOSH, he hurled his axe into the air towards Draven, watching as it spun rapidly, drawing everyone's attention. Draven's glowing eyes locked onto the spinning weapon, tracking its trajectory like a predator watching prey.

But the axe was a feint. As Draven's gaze followed the weapon, Sakamoto was already moving. "Sike!" he shouted with a smirk, closing the distance between them in a blur of motion.

Before Draven could react, Sakamoto struck him with the blunt side of his axe. BOOM! The impact sent Draven flying, his body crashing into the arena wall with a deafening CRASH! Dust and debris exploded into the air, and the crowd erupted in chaos.

"Sakamoto! Sakamoto!" they chanted now, their loyalties shifting in an instant.

"Who is this guy?!" a fan yelled.

"This is insane!" another screamed, their voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

But Sakamoto wasn't finished. Above Draven, a figure descended—the same eerie form as Sakamoto's transformed self. It held an identical axe, its intent clear as it prepared to strike a killing blow.

Sakamoto's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "No! Don't kill him!" He raised a hand toward the figure. "I only used you as a distraction. Go back!"

The doppelgänger froze mid-air, its axe poised inches from Draven's chest. Slowly, it dissolved into a shadowy mist, vanishing entirely.

The crowd gasped, their excitement turning into stunned confusion.

"What was that?!"

"Is he controlling himself? Or something else?"

Sakamoto, ignoring the noise, walked toward Draven, who was slumped against the wall. Stretching out a hand, he offered to help him up.

The crowd, still buzzing with adrenaline, began chanting a single phrase.

"Finish him! Finish him!"

Sakamoto paused, his hand still extended, but his expression didn't waver. "Not interested," he muttered.

Far above the arena, on top of the stadium itself, a figure in a black coat sat cross-legged, observing the battle. The number 5 was emblazoned in bold white on the back of the coat, barely visible in the stadium lights. The figure remained silent, it's head tilted slightly as if analyzing every movement below.

In the VIP section,

Cade chuckled softly to himself. "Draven doesn't know how to use those eyes properly, does he?" Laughs.