The Steel Citadel

[Ten Minutes Later]

The tent’s flap unzipped with a soft zrrp, and Shinzo stepped out, now fully awake and geared up with his backpack slung over his shoulders.

Hiroshi looked at him immediately. “Where’s the cube?”

Shinzo pointed casually to his bag. “Inside my backpack. Relax, it’s safe.”

He then pressed a small button on the back of the tent. With a high-pitched fwip, the entire structure collapsed inward, shrinking rapidly until it returned to its compact toy-sized form. Shinzo picked it up and tucked it away.

“So,” he said, brushing dust off his hands, “why did you wake up so early?”

Hiroshi’s expression was firm. “I sensed danger.”

“Danger?” Shinzo raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Hiroshi inhaled deeply. “I had a nightmare. About… Ryumi.”

It took Shinzo a second. And then—the realization hit him like lightning.

“Wait… Ryumi? Your team member?”

Hiroshi let out a slow, tired sigh. “Not just my team member. She’s my girlfriend.”

Shinzo froze.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

“The—the legend Hiroshi,” he whispered dramatically, “has a girlfriend?!”

Hiroshi gave him an incredulous look. “Am I… not supposed to?”

“N–No! I mean—yes—you can—of course!” Shinzo sputtered, cheeks heating up. “I’m just… surprised, okay?”

“There was a time,” Hiroshi said with a faint smile, “when even I couldn’t believe it.”

Shinzo pouted thoughtfully, then his eyes widened again. “But wait… it’s been 200 years. Is she even… alive?”

“She is.” Hiroshi nodded confidently. “Back when we were kids, Ryumi had an accident during training. She lost a lot of blood. I had O-negative blood, so I gave her mine.”

He paused, then continued.

“My blood has certain… properties. With it, one doesn’t age, she can’t die naturally and can heal to some extents. Anyone who gets my blood inherits those traits. So unless she was killed, like in that nightmare… she’s alive.”

Shinzo listened carefully—and then snapped his fingers.

“Ohhh! Healing! That’s how you recovered from that punctured lung!”

“Yeah,” Hiroshi replied. “But it’s limited. I can’t heal anything major. Not until I regain the green ember. But right now, finding Ryumi is more important.”

Shinzo nodded, fire returning to his eyes. “Then we’ll find her. No matter what.”

Hiroshi met his gaze and nodded back.

And with that quiet vow hanging between them, the two began walking together toward the unknown streets of the Fourth Ring.

They walked through the advanced city in quiet stillness. Tall buildings rose on both sides, their glass windows catching the early daylight.

 Residential blocks stood beside neatly arranged homes, and even the malls—though large and well-designed—rested silently with their shutters down. Morning mist lingered around the edges of the structures, drifting lazily across the empty walkways.

Since people were not awake at this hour, the streets felt almost hollow, leaving only the soft sound of Hiroshi and Shinzo’s footsteps echoing through the open space.

“This is the most modern Ring on our entire planet,” Shinzo said, observing the clean pavement lines and polished surfaces. “Its technology is similar to that of 2028.”

“I can’t believe that these Varkonians made us so behind in technology…” Hiroshi muttered, staring at a dormant tram line. “It’s the year 2396 now… The technology is 368 years behind! That’s a shame…”

They continued forward until they reached a crossroads—two different paths stretching into silence.

“I’ll take left. You take right,” Hiroshi said. “Give any signal once you find the tyrant’s residence.”

Shinzo frowned. “How will I know the exact place??”

“Always remember,” Hiroshi replied calmly. “The Villain’s lair is always something that stands out from the rest. Find the black sheep amongst the regular ones. That’s our target.”

“Alright.” Shinzo said with a thumbs up, and started walking away.

The two separated.

Hiroshi moved left. As he walked, the buildings gradually changed.

Homes became larger, their curves smoother, their walls coated in clean, pale colors. Small gardens appeared in front of the houses—well-maintained, with trimmed hedges and stone paths.

The road curved to the right slowly, leading deeper into an area that looked tidier and far more structured.

“This must be the Varkonian section of this ring,” Hiroshi thought. “Only Varkonians reside here…”

Shinzo took the right path. Unlike Hiroshi’s side, the structures here became simpler with every step.

Houses shrunk into small huts and cramped single-room shelters. Metal sheets patched some roofs, and narrow walkways split between uneven walls.

The road curved left, bending into a quieter, more worn-down neighborhood.

“This must be the poor worker section of here…” Shinzo realized. “Only humans reside here…”

They walked for some time, each moving deeper into their respective paths—one getting cleaner and richer, the other rougher and more silent—yet both equally empty under the slow rising light of the morning.

Both roads curved forward until they finally merged into a single path. Hiroshi and Shinzo walked from opposite sides, each focused on scanning the area rather than paying attention to where they were going.

Which is why neither of them noticed the other.

They crashed into each other so perfectly it was almost comedic.

Shinzo bounced backward like a startled squirrel and fell flat onto the ground.

“Oww—hey, watch out!” he groaned dramatically, rubbing his head. “You hit my head!”

“I’m sorry…” Hiroshi said, leaning over him.

Hiroshi grabbed Shinzo’s hand and pulled him back up with one swift tug—so swift that Shinzo wobbled like he was trying not to fall a second time.

He dusted his clothes quickly, muttering something about early mornings being dangerous.

“Did you find it?” Hiroshi asked.

But Shinzo wasn’t listening. His eyes were frozen, mouth hanging wide open as he stared past Hiroshi.

Hiroshi turned around—and understood why.

A colossal fortress dominated the road ahead.

Huge metal walls coated in pitch-black paint rose from the ground like a fortress built for giants. Massive pillars guarded a towering main door. The structure looked so ominous and out-of-place that it practically screamed villain headquarters.

“That’s it,” Hiroshi said. “Let’s go.”

They walked toward the gate. Shinzo hesitated.

“So… do we knock or…?”

Hiroshi clenched his fist, muscles tightening. Then he punched the door.

BOOM!

The entire metal slab blasted off its hinges and crashed onto the ground with a deafening boom.

Shinzo stared at it, impressed. “Well… that’s also a way to enter.”

They stepped inside together.

The huge exterior walls were nothing more than a protective shell enclosing a two-storey metal building—a compact, reinforced stronghold clearly hiding something important.

[Inside a Room]

Deep within the fortress, the fourth tyrant, Gorokko, stood before a wall-mounted CCTV screen. His steel-plated body reflected the dim lighting, and the mechanical hum of his movements filled the silent room. On the screen, Shinzo and Hiroshi were already inside.

“So,” Gorokko rumbled, his voice metallic and cold, “they have arrived… It’s time I get the cube for my master…”

A huge sword rested in his hand—dark, perfectly smooth, and heavy. With a single swing, he brought the blade down on the CCTV control panel. Sparks burst out as the screen and its console shattered into pieces.

Without another word, Gorokko turned and marched away, the echo of his iron footsteps resonating through the fortress.

[Back Outside]

The moment Hiroshi and Shinzo stepped out of the broken gate, the ground trembled.

Hundreds of guards had already surrounded them—forming a shimmering metallic circle that glinted under the faint morning light.

They weren’t ordinary soldiers.

Half of them were towering humanoid figures with the muscular bodies of men but the heads of bulls, each sculpted entirely from pure silver. Their polished surfaces reflected the world around them like twisted mirrors.

The other half were small golden archers, almost adorably tiny—yet unnervingly sinister—with bows forged from the same radiant metal as their bodies.

Hiroshi and Shinzo instinctively took combat stances.

Shinzo broke the silence first.

“So, what do we know about this Tyrant?”

Hiroshi narrowed his eyes. “Speciality: Metal. That means he can create metal minions. Looks like he’s using silver and gold this time.”

Shinzo smirked. “Good. Because I brought something just in case.”

He swung his backpack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and pulled out the massive hammer he’d taken after Kurumi’s death.

Hiroshi stared. “You did not just steal that from Kurumi…”

“Hey, it isn’t stealing,” Shinzo argued with a shrug. “It’s a souvenir of our victory. Besides—gold and silver are malleable.” He glanced at the bull-men and tiny archers. “Let’s see how malleable this artificial gold and silver is.”

Hiroshi’s daggers blazed alive in his hands.

“I’m going to the Tyrant. Be safe and handle these guys.”

Shinzo raised his hammer, eyes gleaming. “Don’t forget to use your improved moves.”

Hiroshi nodded, confidence radiating off him. “Sure. Let me do some of your work.”

He inhaled—and unleashed.

“FLAMING SLASH ’N DASH — CONTINUOUS FLOW!”

Hiroshi shot forward like a comet. His sprint carved through the metallic army in a curvy serpentine pattern, leaving behind a blazing trail of Orange-Blue fire. Every Bull-Man he slashed instantly melted, collapsing into liquefied puddles of silver.

Shinzo watched Hiroshi disappear in the blazing streak.

“Aww man, he killed all of those bull guys… I wanted to beat those guys…”

He looked down at the tiny golden archers, who barely reached his waist. They all stared back like shiny, angry dolls.

Shinzo grinned and lifted the massive hammer onto his shoulder.

“Alright, little guys… I’m playing whack-a-mole after a very long time. So please—don’t ruin this for me, okay?”

The archers exchanged side-glances.

One archer mouthed: “Is he serious?”

Another one rolled his tiny golden eyes.

A third one flexed his tiny arm like he was some kind of gym bro.

Then—all at once—they raised their bows with slow dramatic menace… but because they were so small, the movement looked more like a cute toddler trying to grab a cookie jar.

They smirked up at Shinzo, as if saying, “You’re done for, human.”

Shinzo stared back.

Then he casually lifted the giant hammer with one hand.

All the tiny archers’ smirks evaporated at the same time.

One archer squeaked.

Another’s bowstring slipped from shock and snapped into his own face.

Shinzo slammed the hammer down with the enthusiasm of a professional carnival worker:

WHACK!

The ground shook like thunder.

The archers screamed in cute metallic voices.

“ABORT!! ABORT!!” One exclaimed, rushing first.

“I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!” Another screamed while circling.

One archer was close to Shinzo, he tried to pick him up. The archer shrieked.

“MOMMY—” He paused. “But wait... I don’t have a mother—BUT STILL!” and he ran away.

they scattered like a swarm of terrified golden chickens.

Shinzo pointed at them as they ran.

“HEY! Don’t run! This isn’t whack-a-run! Come back!!”

Shinzo watched the golden archers flee in all directions, their tiny metallic legs pattering like a panicked swarm of wind-up toys.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Oh no you don’t… You’re NOT escaping my childhood nostalgia!”

He hoisted the hammer above to hit and sprinted after them.

Except Shinzo didn't run like a normal human.

He ran like a raging uncle chasing kids who broke his favourite scooter—arms flailing, hammer whacking dangerously, eyes wide with determination.

The archers screamed as they scattered wildly.

“HE’S COMING!!”

“HE’S TOO FAST FOR A HUMAN!”

“WHY DOES HE LOOK SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS?!”

“SAVE YOURSELVES!!”

One archer dove into a flower pot.

Another tried to hide behind a single pebble—as if that would work.

A third pretended to faint dramatically and fell flat on the ground, hoping Shinzo wouldn’t hit ‘unconscious’ targets.

But Shinzo skidded to a stop, looming over them.

“Oh-ho-ho… Found you.”

The fainted archer opened one golden eye.

“…Oh come on.”

WHACK!

A soft metallic ping! echoed as the archer shot into the air like a golf ball.

Shinzo pointed at the remaining ones:

“Your turn! Don’t make me come over there!”

They screamed again.

“HE KNOWS WE’RE FRAGILE!”

“RUNNNN!!”

“THIS ISN’T WHAT I WAS BUILT FOR!”

Shinzo laughed, twirling the hammer.

“This is the best cardio I’ve had in years!”

While Shinzo fought— I mean... Played, Hiroshi had reached the upper floor.

The moment he stepped in, he was swallowed by darkness.

A silent, breathless, suffocating dark.

The air felt dense, almost metallic, as if the entire room itself was holding its breath. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.

But then—

THUD!

A heavy footstep echoed through the chamber.

Then another.

And another.

The floor trembled beneath Hiroshi’s feet with each thunderous step, dust falling from the ceiling like snow. A chilling metallic screech filled the room—

the unmistakable drag of a massive sword across the ground.

Hiroshi froze.

That presence…

It pressed against him like a mountain. Dense. Violent. Ancient.

Hiroshi quickly pulled out the Varkox meter Shinzo had given him.

He aimed it toward the source of the aura.

The meter blinked.

The readings loaded in.

800,000

Hiroshi inhaled sharply. “Eight hundred thousand?! No wonder he’s a grade-γ Tyrant… This pressure is insane!”

The footsteps came to a halt.

Hiroshi clenched his fists. “Show yourself, Scrap Man!”

A loud click echoed above him as a spotlight dropped from the darkness.

The beam slammed onto a giant silhouette.

A towering figure—three times Hiroshi’s size—stepped forward.

Gold spikes jutted out from his armor like lethal thorns. A polished silver chestplate gleamed ominously under the light. His helmet—made entirely of silver—hid his face completely, turning him into a faceless metal monstrosity.

And in his hand…

A sword twice Hiroshi’s size, thick, perfectly smooth, and heavy enough to cleave a truck in half.

The giant’s voice rumbled like grinding steel.

“You dare call me that? I am Gorokko—the Tyrant of Metal. Ruler of the Fourth Ring. Show respect, Pest… or I will show you your end.”

Hiroshi’s eyes narrowed.

“So what? You planning to kill me? Fine. I’m here to end you anyway.”

Gorokko laughed—a deep, metallic roar that rattled the room.

He swung his enormous sword upward, pointing its tip toward Hiroshi with absolute arrogance.

“I admire your confidence…

It will make crushing you far more entertaining.”

Suddenly—

BOOM!

Gorokko stomped his foot.

And in the blink of an eye—

they got teleported.

[Inside the Arena]

Hiroshi and Gorokko materialized inside a floating metal arena.

Everything around them gleamed:

Silver pillars laced with ancient engravings.

A titanium floor polished like a mirror.

A domed roof of pure gold reflecting their silhouettes.

The Tyrant smirked, lifting his enormous blade with effortless ease.

“Now then…”

His voice reverberated through the arena.

“Let this duel commence.”

To Be Continued...