The Platinum Mode

Boruto lay sprawled among the rubble, warm liquid winding from the corner of his mouth and dripping onto the ashen sand, where it bloomed into glaring red flowers.

Pain surged through him like a tide, drowning out his consciousness in an instant. Three ribs were broken, and every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. His left arm hung limp at his side, clearly dislocated. A teeth-grinding scrape came from his right knee—the groan of shattered bone.

And this was only his opponent's first strike.

"Get up."

The man they called Oni stood in the middle of the arena, without having moved a step. He looked down at Boruto, his voice so flat it held not a trace of emotion. "You're not going to end things here, are you? If you are, then you're not even worthy of being a sacrifice."

Laughter surged through the stands like a tsunami, every taunt a red-hot needle stabbing into Boruto's eardrums.

"That's all it took to knock him down?"

"Shame on the Ōtsutsuki Clan!"

"Get out of here, you loser!"

Boruto dug his fingers into the sand, his nails cracking as blood mingled with the grit.

It hurt.

Every cell in his body screamed at him to give up, to sleep, to escape this hellish pain.

But he clenched his teeth until blood seeped from his gums.

He couldn't die.

He absolutely couldn't die here.

A beastlike growl rose from his throat as he forced his broken body to move. His bones shifted with a sickening crack, and he staggered to his feet.

"You can still stand?" Oni tilted his head slightly. A faint flicker of interest appeared in his indifferent eyes. "How intriguing."

Boruto spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and raised his head. His once-clear blue eyes were now filled