SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

The victory wasn't that great to be honest,they could have lost easily to the guy on white mask.

Team Revenant stood in the prep room, the cheerful, flashing "WINNER" graphic on the screen feeling like a mockery.

Miles was silent, his mind a battlefield of conflicting thoughts.

The Vanes' legacy is more than just a weapon.

The words echoed in his head, a cryptic, maddening refrain.

Who was that fighter? How did they know his parents' name? How did they have a system that could mirror his own?

"Okay, so that was officially the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me," Leo said, breaking the tense silence. "And I once tried to build a functional time machine out of a microwave and a box of old remote controls."

"He just… quit," Leo continued, his voice a mixture of awe and confusion. "It's like he was trying to teach you a lesson, not win a fight."

"And what was with the whole 'blade of light' thing? That was very dramatic. Very 'chosen one' vibes."

Clara was watching Miles, her expression a mixture of concern and a deep, analytical curiosity.

She knew this was more than just a strange opponent.

This was personal.

But before anyone could say another word, the screen on the wall flickered again, announcing the next round.

It was a series of one-on-one duels.

The system would "randomly" select one member from each of the remaining teams to face off.

Their opponent: The Ruthless Survivors.

And the name of their leader, the one selected for the duel, made the air in the room turn to ice.

Ryker.

Miles didn't know the name, but the reaction from his teammates was instantaneous and visceral.

Clara gasped, a sharp, tiny sound, her hand flying to her mouth.

And Leo…

Leo went completely still.

The easy-going, sarcastic humor drained from his face, leaving behind a mask of pure, cold, and deeply personal hatred.

His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of a table.

"Him," Leo whispered, his voice a low, venomous sound that Miles had never heard from him before. "It had to be him."

Clara rushed to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Leo, you don't have to do this," she said, her own voice tight with a shared, painful memory. "We can forfeit. It's not worth it."

Leo just shook his head, his eyes never leaving the name on the screen.

"Yes," he said, his voice as hard and as cold as steel. "It is."

He finally looked at Miles, and the look in his eyes was a perfect, chilling mirror of what Miles saw in his own reflection every single morning.

It was the look of a boy with a ghost to avenge.

The door to the arena slid open, revealing a simple, circular platform bathed in a single, harsh spotlight.

Leo walked toward it, his steps slow, deliberate, and heavy with a purpose Miles was only just beginning to understand.

His opponent was already there.

Ryker was a mountain of a man, with a cruel, sneering face and a network of scars that crawled up his neck.

He looked at Leo with a contemptuous, predatory glee.

"Well, well," Ryker boomed, his voice a gravelly roar. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Another little Martinez with a broken toy."

"I remember your brother," he sneered. "He was a screamer."

Leo's hands tightened into fists, but his face remained a cold, emotionless mask.

The duel began.

Ryker charged, his own system flaring to life, his skin taking on a tough, rock-like texture.

Leo met him, a faint, flickering blue energy surrounding his hands.

It was a low-tier energy manipulation system, Miles realized.

And it was unstable.

The two fighters clashed, and it was immediately, painfully clear that Leo was outmatched.

Ryker was a brute, a brawler, but he was powerful.

He landed a heavy blow to Leo's shoulder, and Leo's energy shield sputtered and died.

"That little toy was always a piece of junk," Ryker laughed, pressing his attack. "Just like him."

Leo was pushed back, taking hit after hit, his system failing him, the blue energy around his hands flickering like a dying candle.

He was losing.

Badly.

From the sidelines, Miles felt a surge of protective rage.

He started to step forward, the [Phantom Edge] already beginning to form in his hand.

But Clara grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"No," she said, her voice tight. "This is his fight."

It looked like it was over.

Ryker raised his fist for a final, crushing blow.

But then, Leo did something unexpected.

He smiled.

It was a grim, bloody, and deeply satisfying smile.

"You're right," Leo said, his voice a ragged gasp. "My system is a piece of junk."

"Good thing," he coughed, spitting a glob of blood onto the platform. "I brought my own."

He dropped the small, blinking device he had been holding in his left hand.

An EMP.

A wave of invisible energy washed over the platform.

Ryker's rock-like armor dissolved, his system shorting out with a surprised fizz.

He stared, his eyes wide with shock.

In that brief moment of confusion, Leo lunged.

He wasn't fighting with power anymore.

He was fighting with his brain.

He used a flashbang to disorient the bigger man.

He used his knowledge of anatomy, striking at nerve clusters and weak points with a brutal, scientific precision.

He was no longer a system user.

He was a surgeon.

And he was taking his opponent apart, piece by bloody piece.

In a final, desperate move, he slid under Ryker's clumsy, panicked swing, came up behind him, and jammed a modified, high-voltage taser into the base of his neck.

Ryker's body went rigid, his muscles seizing, and he collapsed to the platform like a felled tree.

Silence.

The crowd was stunned.

Leo stood over his defeated opponent, his chest heaving, his body a canvas of bruises and blood.

He had won.

He had avenged his ghost.

And then, his own adrenaline, the only thing that had been holding him together, gave out.

He collapsed to his knees, his own flawed system finally giving up, leaving him exhausted, trembling, and utterly, completely vulnerable.

The victory felt like a funeral.

Miles and Clara rushed onto the platform, a new, dark, and unspoken secret now hanging between the three of them.

Their team was moving on.

But they were more broken than ever.