Not only did Mako's ability fail to give him a true second chance in the fight, but now the entire crowd believed he was defeated from the very first second.
No one in the stands—not the king, the queen, or the announcer—remembered the events of the battle.
Only two people retained their memories:
Mako and Catherine.
'This must be some cruel joke!' Catherine gloated in her mind. She didn't fully understand what was happening, but she could only grin wickedly.
'This idiot's ability only put him in an even worse position. It's unbelievable!' she continued to revel internally.
She began walking toward Mako, weapon already in hand.
Not only was history about to repeat itself, but now Mako's humiliation would be even greater.
The king, seeing Mako already on his knees at the start of the battle, stood to leave.
The queen watched impatiently.
The announcer kept doing what he did best—commentating.
The crowd, disappointed that the fight wouldn't last longer, braced for the end.
Mako trembled. A spectral chill coursed through his body, more sinister than death itself.
He raised his chin. In those moments of desperation, Mako thought he wanted to die with some dignity, with his head held high.
But as he lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of his executioner, Mako noticed something strange about Catherine.
She wasn't moving.
"W-What's she doing?" he wondered, stunned, as Catherine's hand released the handle of the Chain of Roses whip.
The hand that had gripped the weapon so fiercely during their battle let it fall as if it were nothing.
Then, Catherine's other hand went to her mouth.
"Ah… Ah…" Catherine let out a choked scream. Intense pain flared in her eyes and the right side of her jaw.
"Huh? Catherine Moon is… crying?" the announcer said.
At those words, the king, who was about to leave, turned to see the scene.
Everyone, shocked that this was how the fight began, witnessed something unthinkable.
With the sound of a cannon blast, it was as if an explosion in the air had manifested on Catherine's face.
Once again, Catherine Moon, leader of the Lunar House, crashed to the ground, kicking up a massive cloud of orange sand with the impact of her body.
"What the?!" the announcer screamed, losing his voice. "They haven't even gotten close to land a single blow, and yet Mako and Catherine look like they've fought an entire war!"
Mako, still on his knees, began to rise.
"Now… I understand…" he said with difficulty.
Though the scene had given him some resolve, Catherine's ability hadn't relented for a second. His entire nervous system begged for mercy under the pain.
Yet, he stood.
'It's not just me affected by my ability,' Mako thought, piecing together the puzzle. 'This is my chance!'
Charging at full speed, Mako ran toward Catherine.
She, struggling to get up, shocked and confused, saw him approaching.
Desperately, Catherine lunged for the Chain of Roses, but it was too late.
Mako, resolute, didn't run blindly at the Lunar House leader. Strategically, he reached the whip first and, mercilessly, landed a blow on Catherine that sent her reeling away from the weapon.
She didn't fall, but Catherine winced from the hit to her abdomen.
"You're a bastard, Mako Sol, striking a lady," Catherine said cynically, spitting blood.
"Funny," Mako replied. "I don't recall ever hitting one."
Catherine scowled.
Both charged at each other, reacting instantly.
The crowd's initial disappointment, thinking the fight was decided before it began, turned into energized cheers. They couldn't help it.
While systems with abilities weren't uncommon among nobles, it was rare to see ones so perfectly suited for battle.
"A right hook! Another left! My God! That kick was filthy—what a display of abilities!" the announcer exclaimed, nearly yanking his mustache off in excitement.
Mako tried to land a sequence of punches with both hands, but Catherine dodged his hooks by a hair.
Catherine countered with a powerful kick aimed at Mako's face, but he blocked with his arms, only to be shoved aside.
Still, he didn't let Catherine get near her whip. When she gained momentum to run for it, Mako grabbed her shoulder, shoving her back to her place.
"You're so damn annoying, scum!" Catherine growled, switching her fighting style. Her hands no longer formed fists—they now mimicked the claws of a beast. "You think I'm defenseless without my whip? Ha! Scum! Scum! Scum!"
The exchange of attacks was ferocious.
The constant pain made it impossible for Mako to dodge effectively. He could only defend, blocking with his arms, watching pieces of his robe fly as Catherine's nails slashed him.
Looking closer, Mako noticed the sun glinting off her nails.
They were coated in some kind of steel.
Still, Mako didn't just retreat. He sought the smallest opening to counterattack.
Most times, Catherine dodged effortlessly, but no matter how skilled she was, Mako managed to land a few blows to her sides.
No. It wasn't just a ferocious exchange—it was a brutal one.
Unfortunately, the physical pain exhausted Mako far more than Catherine.
Would the same outcome repeat, no matter what?
Was there truly no way to escape this cruel fate?
"No matter your trick," Catherine said as Mako could no longer respond to her blows, his muscles tensing and slowing his counterattacks, "it's too late for you!"
Mako, still determined, showed the unusual glow in his blue eyes.
"Trick?" Mako began, his arms shielding his face.
Catherine's attacks didn't let up for a second.
"It's no trick. I… have returned from the depths of hell to defeat you and everyone who stands in my way."
Catherine, used to belittling her enemies, felt the weight of those words.
Mako let out a powerful roar from deep within his lungs:
"I've conquered death! You're nothing but insignificant trash to me!"
Instead of attacking Catherine, Mako struck himself hard in the chest.
The crowd, until then stunned by Mako's determination, gasped in unison at him attacking himself.
"Mako?! He just attacked himself?!" the announcer shouted, holding two torn pieces of his mustache.
Catherine didn't understand.
The glow in Mako's eyes faded, leaving them white.
Mako realized something: it was all or nothing.
The spikes of the Chain of Roses were sharp, as were Catherine's nails. But what caused him the most pain were the blows.
He didn't know if it would be enough, but Mako struck his chest with one intent: to turn Catherine's ability against her.
◇◆◇
Mako returned to the past. This time, it was a shorter leap. They didn't start at the announcer's introductions.
This time, it began when Catherine dropped the whip, reeling from the phantom left hook Mako had landed.
The exchange of attacks started again.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Catherine screamed, disheveled, wounded, and exhausted.
"I told you!" Mako roared back, equally resolute. "Not even death can stop me!"
And so, over and over.
Mako tired faster than Catherine due to the pain, and they'd start again.
And again.
Over and over.
To the spectators, it was a singular, unprecedented battle.
For Catherine and Mako, however, they were trapped in a repeating pattern, one that seemed destined to loop for eternity.
Or so it seemed.
Mako wasn't just striking his chest out of desperation.
He was playing a game of endurance.
"I told you," Mako said for the thousandth time in that endless cycle, "my system… lets me see the future…"
Catherine knew this was a lie, but her entire body trembled. Each time he died, Mako only managed one or two blows on her, but unlike him, when they'd lost count of how many times they'd repeated this…
All those blows, one by one, returned like a torrent of strikes in an instant.
Ghostly blows from a future that never happened, their consequences carried back with Mako after each journey.
"No… It can't be…" the announcer said, incredulous. "Mako Sol has won!"
After each death, returning to the past became a matter of seconds.
It wasn't just the pain or the attacks. Catherine couldn't keep up with the time jumps. She'd lost all sense of the present.
Catherine, unable to laugh or say another word, collapsed to the ground, defeated.
The infernal pain in Mako's body vanished.
Without another word, Mako raised his victorious fist to the sky, accompanied by the crowd's roars.