The Over-Break System



Without saying a word, Brance, and Benny headed upstairs to their respective bedrooms, and only Cynrik lagged as he complained under his breath. 

If there were one thing Cynrik disliked to the point of avoiding it all cost, it would be dressing up in fancy clothes. The stuffy and stiff outfits, the ties, hell, everything about their restrictive nature spelled disaster for someone who relied on flexibility like Cynrik.

Just as he was grumpily about to head upstairs, Rikard suddenly appeared and caught him by the shoulder, rooting him in place.

"And no hoods. This is a fancy party; as such, you will wear the suit as it was intended to be worn, no alterations, do you hear me, Cyn." Rikard said forcefully, pressing down on his oldest Son's shoulder enough to get his attention. 

"Sigh, yeah, I got it, no hoods, no gloves, no fun to be had." Shrugging out of his father's grasp, Cynrik made a mad dash to his room to avoid further torment. 

Standing at the base of the long staircase leading to the second floor, Rikard snorted and returned to the living room to watch the footage from the previous two months. 

Luckily Roni and Cesar were still talking about VSFA. 

Much like MyrkLys had dominated Romeoville, they had done so with every other team they faced, only they never once dropped a single point. 

The showcase put on by Brance, Selene, Gabby, Benny, Melody, and Kurza was so overwhelming that no team they faced could stand their ground and win a single event. 

Unfortunately, without Cynrik making a move, they could not score another Record Break, but that didn't matter in the long run. All they did was secure the necessary points and even swept their Bracket, leaving the other teams in the dust. 

However, Cynrik's lack of action stunned audiences. From an overly dominant performance, where he brutalized his opponents, to sitting on the sidelines like a statue, the change in demeanor sent the interwebs into a tailspin. 

The result was two trending tags, #BringBackCynrik, and #PutMeInCoach.

Meanwhile, the young man in question struggled not to burst out laughing and keep an emotionless expression on his face at all times. 

Still, the question on everyone's mind was, "Why isn't he competing?"

Things got so bad that VSFA was eventually forced into making a statement at the end of the Fourth Round. Even so, it was quickly swept under the rug and viewed as Socially Acceptable Propaganda. 

It wasn't until Cynrik got backed into a corner by a flood of reporters that he finally stepped up and said a few words. 

When Roni and Cesar brought it up, Rikard couldn't help but shake his head at his Son's audacity. Thinking back and summoning the memory of that day, the replay flashed through his mind while a bitter smile crept unto his lips. 

---

:: One Month Ago::

"Cynrik, talk to us; the viewers are demanding an answer from you since VSFA is so lackadaisical and unresponsive." One reporter stated while shoving through the crowd and holding up a thin microphone resembling a pen. 

"Captain Cynrik, explain yourself. From your statements during the first round, we figured you'd continue dominating your opponents. But now you have either been benched or are no longer part of the competition."

"Cynrik, are you so scared by your future opponents that you refuse to step onto the battlefield?"

"Cynrik…"

"Cynrik…"

"Cynrik…"

"ENOUGH!" Releasing his Killing Intent, Aura, and pushing everyone surrounding him back to create a space with his Wind Mana, Cynrik uncrossed his arms and sneered at the reporters. 

It was clear to him that the majority were planted to stir up trouble. Still, after reading between the lines and examining the body language presented by a minute few, Cynrik finally made his move. 

Ignoring the offended glares he was receiving, he zeroed in on two reporters: a young man who appeared fresh out of college and a petite young woman. 

"You two, the two of you can stay; the rest of you have 10 seconds to get the fuck out of my face before I eviscerate you to the point that not even your parents will recognize your corpse. 

"HOW DARE YOU SPE *BANG*!" One reporter, a middle-aged man with blue hair, started to say only to receive a spinning kick to the face, launching him across the hallway before landing on the ground embarrassingly.

"Eight seconds." 

[Cyn, chill out…] Stepping up behind his older brother, Brance placed his hand on Cynrik's shoulder to stop him from hurting anyone else. 

This small act didn't go unnoticed by the dozens of drones and cameras pointed at them.

[Everyone but the two I pointed out is here to start trouble. Don't worry; I won't go TOO overboard.] Wearing a twisted smirk, Cynrik pulled down his hood and met the eyes of the furious and scared reporters. 

"5 Seconds." 

By this point, everyone realized Cynrik meant business and fell over each other to flee from the young monster. They had seen the footage from Round One, and not a single one of them was over Tier-4.

How could they be expected to stand their ground against someone who could easily rip them to pieces? 

Of course, the only two who didn't move, but could be seen shivering in terror, were the two reporters singled out by Cynrik. 

With the hallway clear, Cynrik nodded contently and tilted his head toward the two remaining reporters. 

"Off the record, you two were the only ones here actually to talk; the rest of those idiots were planted by different organizations to cause trouble." Shrugging his shoulders, Cynrik walked passed the two before stopping and looking over his shoulder. 

"Im hungry, so if you guys wanna chat, walk and talk on the way to a restaurant, your treat, of course." With that said, Cynrik walked out, but not before being followed closely by Selene, who smirked under her hood. 

---

Twenty minutes later, in a closed-off section of a fancy restaurant, Cynrik and the other members of MyrkLys, plus Garrison and Geralt, sat opposite the two confused and still scared reporters. 

Contrary to what he expected, the two reporters hadn't said a peep after leaving the arena, putting him in an awkward position where the group walked in utter silence. It wasn't until they had taken their seat that Cynrik, feeling stifled, spoke up.

Leaning forward and propping his elbows on the table, Cynrik smiled at the two.

"Now then, you have until our meal is finished, so ask away. But do keep in mind, if you go too personal with the questions, I will hit you with a No-Comment. Keep it professional, and I will as well."

"Setting things that touch my bottom line aside, I am a fairly open book. So long as the questions are targeted at me and no one else in my faction, I have no problem answering just about anything you wanna know." 

Light sparkled in both reporters' eyes as they pulled out tablets and pen microphones to record the conversations as if opening the floodgates. 

The young woman even went so far as to put a small video recording device, resembling a hockey puck, on the table before clearing her throat. 

However, before she could talk, Cynrik cut in one last time. 

"Oh, I forgot, I'd prefer if you two alternated each question. Since we don't have a lot of time, I want you both to have an equal opportunity to get what you want to know on the table. 

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