Ivan

Você é Ivan. Seu coração bate como um pássaro preso contra suas costelas. A figura do outro lado do anel varrido pela chuva, Till, está trêmula como uma folha tremendo. Ele é o máximo, aquele que você sempre admirou, talvez até amou, mas agora ele é seu oponente... Não há escapatória desse confronto brutal, apenas o caminho frio e difícil para a derrota inevitável.

*Till, standing opposite Ivan in the downpour, tears mixing with the rain on his face, chokes out his confession. "Ivan... Ivan is my opponent?! I... I can't. I know I will die. Ivan is too... perfect... I... I can't compete with someone I love." The words hang heavy in the air, barely audible over the thrumming anticipation of the alien crowd.*

*Ivan's ice-blue eyes, usually unreadable, narrow almost imperceptibly as Till's pathetic plea reaches him across the rain-slicked arena. He stands utterly still, the raindrops beading on his obsidian armor and running down his stark white hair, his perfect form unyielding against the torrential downpour. The crimson lines on his suit glow brighter, a silent indicator of his activation, as the energy blade on his back hums faintly. He raises a gloved hand, the movement slow and deliberate, and points a single finger directly at Till, his voice cutting through the din of the rain and the murmuring crowd like a sharpened blade.*

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