Sunset Rebellion

Who is this man?! I analyzed every possible movement he could have made, yet somehow, he still managed to hit me! I was no rookie—I’d been through countless battles, studied a lifetime’s worth of tactics and martial arts, and yet, this man, this stranger, had landed a strike I couldn’t predict. I gritted my teeth, feeling the weight of my age creeping in. Sure, I was getting up there, in my mid-thirties, but my prime wasn’t that long ago. I was supposed to be sharper than this. And I’d heard about the other participants—how they beat officers, how they left a trail of bruised egos—but nothing like this had ever happened. Most of the other officers had put up a good fight against those seven, making them work for their wins. But now? Here I was, breathless and on the ground.

The man extended his hand toward me, his voice casual, as if he hadn’t just bested me in front of a crowd. "Need some help? You've been on your knees for a bit." His tone held no malice, no mockery. Just calm. I pushed myself up, ignoring his hand, forcing my pride to take control. "No... I'm fine." My voice was steady, but inside, my thoughts were still racing. I couldn’t afford to show weakness, not in front of my men, not in front of this crowd. I turned toward the gathering, the onlookers who had been waiting for this moment, and with a commanding voice, I yelled, "Soldiers!" Three of my men, who had been blending into the crowd, leaped into action. They vaulted over the civilians, their boots landing with precision in the open middle of the circle that had formed around us. Each of them dropped to one knee in unison, their eyes locked onto me, awaiting orders. "Yes, ma'am?" they responded in sync.

Reaching into my coat pocket, I pulled out a cigar, something to calm me. I twirled it in my fingers for a moment. I swiped the end, igniting it. The familiar scent of burning tobacco filled the air as I took a long drag, the smoke swirling around me like a comforting cloak. Exhaling slowly, I finally spoke, "Place the posters around—the final participant has been found." Vellin, the man who had struck me down so effortlessly, raised an eyebrow and asked, "Can I go now? Someone is waiting for me." His voice was casual. I took another puff from the cigar, my eyes narrowing as I regarded him. "Come back on the 11th. That's when the tournament will be held." I need to inform the Demon Buddha about this.

Thirty minutes later..

Someone I didn’t know stood beside Larry, a fellow officer, both of them guarding the entrance to Sun's accommodations. They looked vigilant. We should’ve gotten better housing for someone of Sun's fame, but ever since that war with Obsidian, things haven’t been the same. Our prestige, our influence—it all took a hit. We can't flaunt our power like before. Too many good men were lost during that war, and their absence left cracks in our foundation. Whispers had started—conspiracies about our strength. They said we weren’t the strongest Supreme Clan anymore. What an absolute joke. Those fools. Obsidian, our only true competition, lost that war! Yet here we are, still facing rumors and doubts. The audacity of these people… I clenched my jaw, feeling the frustration coil tight in my chest. How could they forget? How could they doubt?

I let go of the cigar, watching it fall to the ground. Its faint glow flickered weakly before I ground it beneath my heel, extinguishing the flame with a hard stomp. “I need to speak with the Demon Buddha,” I said, my voice firm as I turned to Larry. “the last participant has been found.” Larry gave a slight nod, no surprise in his eyes. He’d seen me like this before—angry, determined, ready to act. He stepped aside and opened the door for me, a small, respectful gesture. "Welcome back, Emma." he said. I slipped my hands into my pockets, my expression neutral as I stepped past him. "Thanks, Larry."

The place was still lavish, but not lavish enough for someone of the Demon Buddha's stature. Expensive tapestries adorned the walls, and the furniture was made of fine materials, yet it felt like a shadow of its former glory. Perhaps it was the aftermath of the war, or maybe it was just my growing dissatisfaction with the state of things. Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not for us. That's why we're holding this tournament in the first place. The Demon Buddha lay sprawled on a massive couch, a piece of furniture custom-made to support his immense frame. His large, muscular body seemed at ease, yet even in relaxation, his veins pulsed unnaturally. It seems power flowed through him at all times. He lifted a cup to his lips, sipping the last of his drink with an almost exaggerated slowness, savoring every drop.

With a satisfied sigh, he finally spoke. "What did you need, Emma?" His voice was commanding, despite the casualness of the moment. I took a deep breath and pulled the ten gold coins from my pocket. The cold metal clinked against the polished wood as I placed them on the table in front of him, a small but significant token. "The last participant has been found." I said, watching his expression carefully. He didn’t react at first, simply kicking his feet up, his enormous frame shifting as he sat upright. Even sitting, he was taller than me. His veins seemed to pulse even more as he stirred from his relaxation, placing the now-empty cup on the table beside him.

"Good." he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We can finally get this show on the road." His tone held anticipation. Then, his eyes narrowed, curious. "Who is the last participant?" "His name is Vellin, sir." I replied, standing a little straighter as I said the name. The effect was immediate. His eyes widened, shock flashing across his face, a rare emotion for the Demon Buddha. For a moment, I saw a vulnerability in him I had never seen before. "How old did he look?" he asked, his voice urgent. I hesitated, scratching my head. "His early twenties at best?" I answered, unsure of why he seemed so rattled by the name.

His massive hand slammed down onto the desk. The sound was deafening as the wood splintered beneath his force, the desk practically disintegrating under the pressure. My heart leapt into my throat, and I quickly straightened my posture, trying to mask my fear. "W-w-what's going on, sir?!" My voice shook despite my best efforts. He raised a hand, a silent command for me to calm down. "My bad." he muttered, his tone softer. "Someone I knew was named Vellin. The timeline matches up too." I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. Could it be the same person? "Do you want us to find more information on him, sir?" I asked, already running through the logistics in my mind. I could get the men on it immediately if needed. But he shook his head. "Nah. There's no way it could be him." he said, though his voice carried a hint of uncertainty. "Vellin is a fairly popular name."

The Demon Buddha snapped his fingers, the sound echoing through the lavish room. “Run by me all the participants again. It’s been a while.” he commanded, his tone impatient but focused. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, pushing past the tension from earlier. "There are eight participants, each incredibly strong." I began, choosing my words carefully. He casually plucked some wax from his ear, giving me a lazy glance. “Well, yeah, no shit.” he muttered, dismissing the obvious. I bit back a sigh, deciding not to engage with his rudeness. I couldn’t afford to lose focus. “The participants are at the highest level we've seen in twenty years.” I continued, my voice more measured, determined to get through the briefing. "I'll name them in alphabetical order.”

I took another breath, centering myself before starting the list. “Aiden—an ex-member of the Suits, a clan based out of Las Gran. He’s a wrestler, known for his brutal efficiency. During his fight, he submitted the officer he faced in under a minute.” The Demon Buddha raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for more. “Next, there’s Hal, 'The Wrecker'. He’s a fist for hire who became infamous after taking down a hundred bandits during an escort job—while still protecting his employer. He beat his assigned officer with a single punch.”

This time, the Demon Buddha let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. Hal’s reputation was something even he couldn’t ignore. “And then, Lucas—'Absolute Defense'. He’s the former second rank of the Fist of God, which, as you know, is helping us host the tournament.” I paused for a second, drawing in a steady breath. Each of these participants was a powerhouse in their own right, and Lucas was no exception. “Lucas is a master of Reinforced Fist, and somehow, he’s immune to blades. The officer who faced him tried to use bladed weapons, but Lucas just stood there, unmoved, until the officer got too exhausted to continue.”

The Demon Buddha smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Like me." he said, clearly enjoying the comparison to Lucas. I adjusted my glasses, maintaining my professional composure. "Yes, sir," I confirmed before moving on. "Then, there's Mason, 'The Horse', a registered mercenary with the endurance to fight for days at a time. During his match, he and his officer were nearly evenly matched, until Mason started deflecting every single attack with Silat. Afterward, he countered with a Muay Thai knee that knocked the officer out cold."

The Demon Buddha listened intently, his amusement growing. I continued, "Noah, 'Life and Death', is a pure master of Silat, and he beat his officer in a similar manner to Mason. Precise, methodical, and devastating." I paused for a moment before introducing the next name. "Then we have Oliver, 'The Pipsqueak.' Despite his size, he launched a relentless barrage of strikes at his officer while dodging every blow thrown at him. As far as I know, he doesn’t study any formal martial art." A smile tugged at the Demon Buddha's lips again. "Impressive."

"The most famous participant.." I went on, "is Ryan, the strongest student of Taekwondo Grandmaster Ryuha. He defeated his officer with a single, precise strike to the abdomen. It was over in an instant." The Demon Buddha’s smile widened. "Ryuha's best student, huh? Not bad. Ryuha gave me a good fight back in the day." I gulped and moved on to the last name. "And finally, Vellin—the man I fought just now. He only threw one punch, but if my hunch is correct, he’s on the level of a Flame." My words hung in the air for a moment, and I felt a chill at the memory of the punch that had brought me to my knees.

The Demon Buddha’s expression darkened, turning serious as he leaned forward slightly. "Are you sure, Emma?" I held my ground, unwavering. "Yes, sir. He threw a casual punch from point-blank range, and it brought me to my knees instantly. Even Hal, known for his strength, can't replicate that." He leaned back, his massive frame sinking into the couch as he let out a deep breath. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered. His gaze drifted upward to the second floor, where some of the officers' rooms were. "Even if he is on the level of a Flame, the other participants are nearing that level as well." His mood shifted, and a wicked grin spread across his face. He let out a low, rumbling cackle. "He’s in for a world of hurt if he thinks this will be easy for him!"