Redman's voice cut through the tension.
"Alright enough stalling. Time to move."
Their formation locked into place, clean and practiced:
Redman and Nathan took point at the front.
Babu and Ryo covered the rear, tanks steady and alert.
Seris, the healer, stood in the center with Syan, the barrier twin, shielding the group. Jaxx, ever the observer and recorder, held position just behind them.
Standard formation. For now.
They vanished into the Gate one by one.
Then, as if the world itself had exhaled, the roaring winds fell silent. The shimmering light of the portal pulsed gently still open… for now.
Some spectators drifted away, their earlier excitement dulled by the sheer pressure the Gate had unleashed. But others stayed, pitching makeshift camps along the perimeter. Streamers set up rigs, drones buzzed overhead, and virtual feeds lit up around the globe as audiences tuned in, hungry to witness history in real time.
Gin remained.
Rooted in place, he couldn't tear his eyes from the swirling vortex.
So that's what it looks like… the other side of the Gate. I wonder what it's really like in there.
His gaze flicked briefly to a nearby holo-display, where a popular streamer was already narrating with breathless enthusiasm.
"Team Redman just entered the Gate! Look at that formation—classic diamond split, full offense. That rookie Nathan's walking like a final boss, I swear!"
Gin blinked, the flickering screen casting pale light across his face before fading back into shadow.
He was still staring into the void when Iwaizumi finally spoke behind him.
"…We should head home, sir. It's going to be a while before they come out," he said, voice steadier now, but quiet—like the Gate had left something behind in all of them.
Nearby, Nanami leaned against his patrol car, giving a lazy wave.
"Be careful, alright? And try not to cause more trouble for the Han family than they already have, Sir Gin."
He gave her a crooked grin equal parts mischief and melancholy.
"I'll try," he said, without conviction.
"Key word being try," Nanami chuckled.
Iwaizumi's eyes flicked toward Gin with a trace of worry but let it slide for now.
As they turned to leave, Iwaizumi suddenly paused, patting his pockets.
Then he stopped cold.
"Oh. I totally forgot…"
Tabaki glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "Forgot what?"
"Tickets," Iwaizumi muttered, pulling out a crumpled envelope. "To the MPA Showcase. My mom gave me three said she'd be running late but didn't want us to miss it."
Gin's ears perked up at the mention.
MPA.
Exactly what he needed a chance to see Pulse in live action to test out his theories.
Tabaki gawked. "Wait… you've had those this whole time?"
Gin, walking just behind them, leaned in slightly.
"What's the deal with these tickets? Where are the MPAs?"
Tabaki gave him a look half disbelief, half amusement.
"Wait… seriously, sir? You need tickets to see the MPAs. You didn't know that?"
Iwaizumi gave a dry sigh as they moved. "They get us into the MPA stadium today. Showcase match. It's big."
Back in his old world, duels were sacred.
Fights between cultivators were expressions of will, defending of your sect, and inner strength. People didn't spectate for fun; they watched in reverence, or not at all. Sometimes, the pressure of two clashing cores could rupture the land, warp the sky. That kind of battle wasn't entertainment, it was danger.
So when Gin first heard about Pulse matches, he assumed the same.
A quiet field. A gathering of warriors. A test of spirit and belief.
But this?
This was nothing like what he knew.
You had to pay to get in. Spectators wore merch. Commentators shouted over speakers. Some matches were invite-only, streamed to subscribers. Some MPAs were so dangerous so unstable that the government restricted public viewing for safety reasons. But for the right price, access could still be granted to those willing to pay extra to see them in action.
Pulse wasn't a sacred trial here. It was a spectacle. A business.
Tabaki picked up the pace, practically jogging. "It's the Mixed Pulse Arts league! The real stuff fighters from every division showing off their Pulse styles. No staging. No censorship. Just raw, unpredictable combat."
Gin's steps slowed slightly as something clicked into place.
Mixed Pulse Arts.
Different abilities. Different techniques.
If there's a loophole… it'll be there.
Somewhere in how they fight how they adapt, survive, counter.
During his time in K Penitentiary, Gin had tried to gather information to understand Pulse. He asked cellmates, guards, even the medical Most of the staff gave the same answer:
"It's random, just something you're born with."
No one really knew how it worked and truthfully, no one seemed to care. People were obsessed with what their abilities could do, not why they had them. Power, to most, was just a tool. Nothing more.
Gin found it… unsettling.
In his old world, everything was rooted in something deeper. Even gifts from nature had a hidden logic there was always, somehow, a science behind the mystery. His master used to say: ""Behind every power, gift, or phenomenon in life, it's the lack of understanding that makes it feel random. You must study the chaos, Gin learn its rhythm. Understand its soul. Only then can it truly serve you… because even randomness has a pattern."
But here?
No one searched for the soul.
Only results.
Iwaizumi shrugged. "Personally, I'm not a huge fan. Gets too brutal sometimes. But it's… honest and real nowadays compared to dungeon raids."
Gin didn't answer. His mind was already racing.
It was a chance.
A window.
A possible answer.
Then it clicked.
His eyes narrowed in thought.
He cast one last glance toward the Gate now barely visible in the distance, still humming faintly then turned his attention to the glossy tickets in Iwaizumi's hand.
Excitement.
watching someone else fight often taught you more about your own flaws than a hundred solo drills ever could.
Style reveals intent. Mistakes. Limits.
And Gin needed to see it for himself unfiltered.
"…Yeah," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Let's go."
"So… what was that back there? You seemed off. And Nathan, he looked like he saw a ghost. Thought you two were friends? Did he bully you in school or something? He definitely wasn't happy to see you."
Iwaizumi hesitated, then gave a strained smile, trying to brush it off.
"It's nothing. We were just… classmates. I might have gotten him into some trouble a long time ago, haha."
But Iwaizumi kept walking ahead, deflecting their questions. His fingers tightened around the tickets in his pocket, now crumpled slightly. The past wasn't something he wanted to unpack here.
Gin stayed quiet, watching his new friend's back.
That guy… Nathan. What did he mean about never apologizing? What kind of trouble did they get into.