Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 88: Deadlock.

Chapter 88: Deadlock.

Tobias leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes casually surveying the crowd below. "So—catch me up. What’ve I missed so far?"

The girl glanced over. "You missed everything. This tournament’s been a complete mess."

Her father nodded. "Strongest fighters we’ve seen in years. And also, the most chaotic."

Tobias chuckled under his breath. "Figures. I always show up when the dust’s already flyin’."

They talked for a while—about the cracked arena, the disqualifications, the favorites everyone assumed would make it but didn’t. And when they mentioned the boy with the chains, Tobias leaned forward slightly.

"Wait. That fighter earlier—you two were talkin’ like he mattered. What’s his name again?"

The girl answered without hesitation. "Amari."

Tobias nodded slowly. "The disqualified one."

"Yeah," she said. "He fought Ivy and—well, Ivy had to be carried off. Amari didn’t even flinch."

Tobias tilted his head, clearly more interested now. "How would someone meet a kid like that?"

The girl blinked. "I met him by accident... he was headed to the bathroom."

Before she could even finish that sentence, Tobias straightened.

"Which bathroom?"

She paused, a little confused. "Uh... the one behind the west concourse, next to the—"

Tobias was gone.

No sound. No shuffle. Just the gentle sway of his seat where he’d been.

The girl stared at the empty spot.

"...He’s strange."

Her father didn’t even look surprised. "Might be. But sometimes, strange folk know what they’re looking for."

Tobias moved like a man stitched together by pain and patience—limping through the stone corridors with his coat dragging slightly and his hat pulled low. Every few steps, he’d glance into a room, eyes sharp beneath the brim. No Amari.

Yet.

He turned a corner and paused, letting the dull ache in his ribs settle. Still too many footsteps. Too many unfamiliar faces.

Down another hallway, Apollo pushed open the medic room door, stretching his shoulders and rolling his neck. Ready for the next match.

He stepped out—and bumped directly into someone.

The man didn’t stumble, but his voice was sharp, dry, and oddly familiar.

"Watch where you’re goin’, kid."

Apollo froze mid-step.

That voice.

That drawl.

He looked up—but the man was already gone. Nothing but air and a soft clink of spurs disappearing around the corner.

Apollo stared after him, silent.

"...No way."

Tobias kept walking.

Still no Amari.

Then—two guards stepped into his path, hands up.

"Excuse me, sir," one said. "This hallway’s restricted. Official personnel only."

Tobias blinked at them slowly, then tilted his head just enough to let the brim catch the light. "Now I know I ain’t supposed to be wanderin’, but I’m lookin’ for a kid from my school. Name’s Amari. Little too serious. Chain-slinger. Ya might’ve seen him wreckin’ someone’s boy earlier."

The guards glanced at each other. One shrugged. "You mean the Moor?"

"Yeah," Tobias said, voice steady. "That’s him."

They looked him up and down, clearly guessing he must’ve been some kind of visiting instructor from whatever strange place trained someone like Amari.

The taller one nodded toward a hallway. "Second door on the right. They’ve been in there a while."

Tobias gave a small, crooked smile. "Much obliged."

He walked off—slow, casual—but he caught it.

The snickers.

"What kind of school hires a guy like that?"

"These teacher types are getting weirder every year..."

Tobias heard every word, but it didn’t bother him.

He only has his mission to focus on.

"Who’d you say you were?" Milo asked, squinting a little as he leaned against the doorframe.

The voice came back—smooth, gravel-dry, unmistakable.

"Tobias. Lookin’ for a chain-slinger. Heard he was in here."

Amari stood so fast his chair scraped across the floor.

"...That voice," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He pushed past Kenneth, Shylo, and Johnny like a man chasing a memory.

When he reached the door and saw the man leaning casually in the hallway—long coat, crooked smile, eyes calm but unreadable—Amari froze.

"You..."

Tobias tipped his hat just slightly. "Been a minute, huh?"

The whole room went quiet.

Milo looked between them, clearly confused. "Wait... you know this guy?"

Amari didn’t answer right away.

He was staring too hard. Not out of fear—something else. Something like recognition. Like the ghost of an old lesson finally stepping out from the shadows.

"Yeah," Amari said, voice steady now. "Yeah, I know him."

Tobias smiled.

"Good. Then we ain’t strangers."

The air in the room went thick.

Nobody said a word—but everyone felt it.

Tobias had one hand resting just above the revolver at his side. Not aggressive. Not subtle either.

Amari’s fists clenched at his sides, quiet tension rolling off him in waves.

"Milo," he said calmly, eyes still locked on Tobias. "Don’t let that man in too far. He’s not just here to talk."

Everyone’s eyes snapped to Amari, then back to the stranger in the coat and hat.

Tobias didn’t flinch. "Easy now, chain-slinger. I ain’t here for all of you. I just came for the one name I gave at the gate."

Maverick stepped forward, arms folded, gaze sharp. "Amari doesn’t have to go anywhere if he doesn’t want to."

Tobias raised an eyebrow beneath the brim of his hat. "That’s the problem, ain’t it?"

Maverick’s voice dropped. "Yeah. It is."

Around them, the others started shifting—hands creeping toward hilts, eyes narrowing. Johnny stayed low, Shylo barely blinked, and Milo positioned himself just enough to block the path.

Everyone was choosing their stance.

Tobias didn’t move.

But his fingers curled a little closer to the grip of his gun.

The room didn’t breathe.

"You sure you can even fight?" Amari said quietly, eyes never leaving Tobias. "You’re limping. Breathing heavy. You’re covered in bruises."

Tobias let out a slow, rasped chuckle, one that scraped like worn leather.

"These?" he said, motioning to himself. "Just reminders I’ve lived long enough to know pain ain’t the problem. I can still pull the trigger faster than anyone in this room can blink."

The weight of his voice cut through the air. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just cold.

"I don’t want trouble," Tobias continued. "But I ain’t afraid to make it. If any of y’all get in my way—friend, stranger, doesn’t matter—I’ll drop every single one of you."

He turned to Amari last, eyes sharp behind the brim of his hat.

"And you—since you’ve got that little curse of not dying properly—I won’t even hesitate. You’ll just stand up again... eventually."

Tobias starts laughing...