**Volume 2: Upper World**

  **Chapter 61: Brother's End

  January 3rd, 4:12 p.m. – Central Arena (Ray vs Jay – Continued)

  Jay’s body hit the stone with a dull, final thud — knees first, then chest, then cheek pressed against the cold floor. The knife clattered away, spinning once before stopping near Ray’s boot. Blood pooled slow under Jay’s head, dark red spreading like spilled ink, soaking into the cracks Ray’s own rift energy had made earlier.

  The crowd noise — that constant roar — cut out for a heartbeat. Even the demons went quiet. The big screens froze on the moment Ray’s hand closed around Jay’s throat — the tear falling from Ray’s eye still hanging in mid-air in slow-mo replay.

  Ray didn’t move.

  He stood over his little brother — coat open, white hair catching the floodlights, purple eyes fixed on the body like he was seeing it for the first time. The aging touch lingered on his fingertips — faint gray veins fading — but he didn’t wipe them. Just stared.

  A single tear slipped free — fell slow — hit the back of his hand like rain on stone.

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  He didn’t blink.

  Didn’t breathe for a second.

  Then — soft, almost too quiet for the mic to catch — he whispered:

  “I’m sorry, Jay.”

  His voice cracked on the name — small, broken, the way it used to when they were kids and Jay had fallen off the roof trying to copy Ray’s rift-step. Back when Ray still laughed real. Back when “little brother” wasn’t a title he’d have to bury.

  Ray crouched — slow, careful — like he was afraid touching Jay would break something else. He turned the body over gently — Jay’s face slack, eyes half-open, mouth parted like he’d been about to say something. Blood trickled from the corner of his lip. Ray brushed it away with his thumb — gentle, almost tender — then closed Jay’s eyes with two fingers.

  The crowd started murmuring again — confusion, then anger, then cheers from the demons who didn’t care about the tears. But Ray didn’t hear them.

  He stayed crouched there — one hand on Jay’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat that wasn’t coming back. His shoulders shook once — barely — then stilled.

  He leaned down — forehead resting against Jay’s for a long second — and whispered something no one else could hear.

  Then he stood.

  Straightened his coat.

  Wiped the tear off his hand on the fabric — like it was nothing.

  Walked out of the pit.

  No wave. No look at the stands. Just slow steps — boots leaving faint red prints — until he disappeared through the gate.

  The announcer’s voice came back — flat, mechanical.

  “Match complete. Ray advances.”

  The screen cut to black for a second — then lit up with the next matchup.

  But in the dorm block — Sky, Frosty, Max, Cam, Hiro, Mira, Rita, Aoi, Kira — they’d all seen it.

  Sky stared at the blank screen — necklace Mara gave him resting heavy on his chest.

  Frosty’s hand found his — squeezed once.

  Max leaned forward — shadows curling tight around his ankles.

  “He cried.”

  No one answered.

  They didn’t need to.

  The chapter ended.

  To be continued…