“THRONJAWWWWW!!!!! YOU WANTED A FIGHT! I AM HERE FOR IT!” Arata's voice echoes through the warehouse, cutting through the tension like a knife. He steps forward, his presence almost mythical, like a hero straight out of legend arriving at the eleventh hour. His transformation abilities may be stripped away, but in his hand is the sword his sister made, a symbol of his determination and resilience.
Thronjaw sighs, a look of boredom crossing his monstrous features. “You? Wolf? Are you for real?” he says, his tone dripping with disdain as he sizes up Arata. The hulking villain appears uninterested, his earlier anticipation fading.
Arata’s eyes blaze with unyielding resolve. “I will fight you, Thronjaw, and I promise you will not be bored,” he declares, his voice steady and confident. His grip tightens on the sword, its blade gleaming with a deadly promise.
Thronjaw raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. “Really now? Bring it on,” he taunts, but there is a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
Arata shakes his head, his expression serious. “First, let the people go. I have already given you my word that you will enjoy this battle, and I won’t break it,” he states, his voice calm but firm. His eyes, filled with a mixture of compassion and determination, lock onto Thronjaw’s.
Thronjaw hesitates, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. Then, a slow, sinister smile spreads across his face. “Fine, your eyes are different than when we first met, so I will believe you,” he says, his voice carrying a grudging respect. With a snap of his fingers, a brilliant flash envelops the room, and all 240 captives vanish.
“I sent them outside Hex’s headquarters. Everyone should be able to meet their family now,” Thronjaw says, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of satisfaction. Though his face remains impassive, the satisfaction in his voice reveals a twisted sense of amusement.
The warehouse, now devoid of captives, feels both empty and charged with impending conflict. Arata stands ready, his heart pounding but his resolve unwavering. He glances briefly at the spot where the captives once were, feeling a surge of relief and renewed purpose. The stage is set, and with the weight of the sword in his hand and the memories of his sister’s words in his heart, Arata steps forward to face Thronjaw, the air crackling with anticipation. The showdown is about to begin, and the fate of many hinges on this epic confrontation.
In room 309, the tension was palpable. “ARATA! THAT IDIOT!” Alex’s voice was filled with frustration, his face contorted in anger as he slammed his fist on the table. The sudden outburst startled everyone in the room.
“Oh no…I need to go help him!” Jennifer exclaimed, panic evident in her eyes as she darted towards the door with Vamby fluttering anxiously around her. Just as she reached for the handle, a familiar figure stepped into the room, blocking her path.
“No one goes anywhere,” said the stern voice of Squad Leader A Taylor. The authoritative tone sent a shiver through the room. “Sir Taylor?” Alex’s surprise was evident, his eyes widening. “Dad?” Both Elio and Lila echoed, confusion lacing their voices as they looked at their father.
“You can’t stop me—” Jennifer began, her determination shining through, but before she could finish, Taylor moved with swift precision, chopping the back of her neck. She collapsed into Dan’s arms, unconscious. “What the fuck, dude?!” Dan yelled, his voice filled with a mix of shock and anger. He and Elio rushed to Jennifer’s side, checking her condition.
Taylor’s expression remained cold and unyielding. “Commander Williams has already made his decision. Ryuki Arata has been banned from Hex’s organization forever. He shall no longer be part of our organization and will no longer have the authorization to transform into a Ringmaster. We will also be taking his ring after the battle, whether he is alive or dead.”
A heavy silence fell over the room, the weight of Taylor’s words sinking in. Dan’s face twisted into a bitter smile. “Man, you guys are so full of bullshit,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. Taylor’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?” he asked, his tone icy.
Dan’s anger boiled over. “You guys talk about protecting people, providing security, all this BS, and then when someone is out there doing your fucking job, you strip them of their authority.” He stepped closer to Taylor, glaring into his eyes with fiery intensity. “Sounds like you guys don’t actually want the Undergrounders stopped. Almost as if you’re part of the group,” Dan spat, his accusation hanging heavy in the air.
Taylor smirked, a condescending glint in his eyes. “If you can talk the talk, then show me you can do shit with your actions as well. The whole organization knows you can’t do jack shit against the Undergrounders who are on top of the food chain.” His words were sharp and biting. “That’s a fact.”
Dan’s frustration erupted. “If that’s the case, where is the squad when people need them the most? Why are you alone? WHERE IS YOUR SQUAD?!” His voice was loud, filled with righteous indignation.
“They are busy with more important stuff,” Taylor replied nonchalantly.
“Important stuff? You—” Dan began, but Elio interrupted, his voice tinged with bitterness.
“There is more important stuff than saving people?” Elio chuckled, but it was a sound devoid of humor. “You know, maybe Mom was right about you. Not caring about a single shit except for having a strong gene kid…You had two of us, one a genius in battle and one a genius in research, but other than that, you never cared about anything else…No wonder…Mom left you.” Elio’s words cut deep, the room growing tense.
“ELIO!” Lila tried to stop him, her face a mask of worry.
Taylor laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. “You’ve grown some balls, boy, but you’re still weak no matter how you look at it.” He scanned the room, his gaze cold and judgmental. “All of you are.” His eyes bore into Alex. “And because of your stupidity, Alex, you will lose a member. Even if he survives, he will be crippled for life.”
Dan’s anger flared again. “Yeah sure, buddy, that’s Arata we’re talking about. He won’t go down without a fight.”
Taylor’s smirk returned. “So you’re saying he’s going to throw away his life.” The statement hung in the air, heavy and ominous.
Dan had no words, his frustration boiling over as he let out a frustrated “Tsch!” and looked away, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
Taylor smirked, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “Let’s make a bet, young boy. If your little Ryuki Arata can win, he gets to stay. I will ask Commander Williams personally to keep him at our headquarters. But if he doesn’t, Hex will provide him no help.” His words were taunting, dripping with confidence.
Dan hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. But before he could respond, Elio stepped forward, his voice steady and resolute. “Bet!” Elio declared, his gaze unwavering. “I believe in Arata… He has only won once so far by himself, but that one time when he won, he didn’t look scared, just like today. He will not lose, and I can bet my life on it.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Taylor laughed, the sound echoing with condescension. “Whatever you say, my son. Your cockiness will be his doom.” He sauntered over to join the others, his presence exuding a sense of smug superiority as he settled in to watch the livestream.
The atmosphere was electric, a storm of emotions swirling around them. Doubt, hope, frustration, and determination all clashed, creating a scene charged with intensity. They all knew that the outcome of this bet would change everything, and all they could do now was wait and watch, their hearts pounding with anticipation.
Arata and Thronjaw both stood poised, ready to fight. Arata, untransformed, gripped the sword his sister had given him. Its simple, pure katana design belied the strength it held within. Thronjaw, on the other hand, held his menacing weapon—a sword so sharp that anything it met would be sliced as effortlessly as a shark’s teeth through flesh.
Arata’s eyes were intense, his focus unwavering. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the katana in his hands. This sword was more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of his sister’s belief in him, a testament to his determination. He moved into a fighting stance, his muscles coiled and ready to spring.
Thronjaw’s expression was one of twisted amusement. He relished the anticipation, the thrill of the imminent battle. His sword glinted wickedly in the dim light, a reflection of his cruel intent. He mirrored Arata’s movements, his predatory eyes locked onto his opponent.
The air between them was charged with tension, each second stretching into eternity. Arata’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He could feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his ears, a rhythmic reminder of the life he was fighting for. His mind was clear, every thought focused on the battle ahead.
Thronjaw sneered, his confidence unshaken. He thrived on the fear and despair of others, and he saw Arata as just another victim to be crushed. He twirled his sword with a flourish, the blade whistling through the air. His stance was aggressive, every movement exuding menace.
Arata shifted his weight, testing the ground beneath his feet. He felt the solidity of the earth, grounding him, giving him strength. He glanced at the katana, remembering his sister’s words, feeling her support even in her absence. He knew he had to win, not just for himself, but for everyone counting on him.
The two warriors began to circle each other, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The crowd of captives watched with bated breath, their hope flickering like a fragile flame. Each movement was measured, deliberate, a dance of death waiting for the first note to play.
A sudden flash and the swords collide. Loud clangs echo throughout the warehouse, the sound of steel against steel resonating like a war drum. The force of Thronjaw's strikes sends shockwaves through the air, each one a testament to his immense strength. He doesn't hold back, his sword slashing through the space with deadly precision, aiming straight for Arata's head.
But Arata's defense is unyielding. His katana meets every attack, each block a testament to his resilience. He moves with a grace and determination that belies his untransformed state. His sister’s sword feels like an extension of himself, each deflection a reminder of the promises he made.
Thronjaw grins, a twisted expression of satisfaction. He relishes the challenge, his attacks growing more ferocious. He spins and lunges, each move fluid and deadly. Arata’s defense, however, remains impenetrable, a maxed-out shield against the onslaught.
Thronjaw’s eyes gleam with a sadistic thrill as he presses harder. His strikes come faster, aiming to break through Arata’s defenses. Yet, every time he goes for the head, Arata’s katana is there, unwavering. The force behind each block reverberates through Arata's arms, but he holds firm, his resolve unshaken.
The battle intensifies, Thronjaw’s frustration growing with every failed attempt to land a killing blow. He shifts tactics, aiming for Arata’s torso. A swift strike cuts across Arata’s shoulder, the pain searing through him. Blood oozes from the wound, staining his clothes. Arata winces but doesn't falter. He tightens his grip on the katana, his determination burning brighter.
Thronjaw takes advantage of the injury, launching a barrage of attacks. A cut slices across Arata’s chest, another gash opens on his back. Each wound is a testament to Thronjaw’s dominance, but Arata refuses to fall. His movements grow slower, his breathing labored, but his spirit remains unbroken.
Arata's eyes blaze with unyielding resolve. He pushes back against Thronjaw's relentless assault, every deflection and parry a testament to his tenacity. Despite the injuries, despite the pain, he stands tall, his will unshaken.
As people watch the livestream, their initial despair begins to transform into hope. They recognize the young man fighting with such determination. "That's the kid I knew from my high school, Ryuki Arata," someone murmurs. The words spread, the recognition igniting a spark of hope among the onlookers.
The livestream captures every moment, broadcasting the battle to the world. People watching from their homes, offices, and public squares begin to cheer. "Ryuki Arata!" they chant, their voices growing louder with each passing second. The name echoes across the city, a chorus of support for the young hero.
Thronjaw’s smile widens, a twisted expression of excitement. "You’re still standing," he says, almost in disbelief. "You’re more resilient than I thought."
Arata wipes blood from his face, his eyes never leaving Thronjaw. He stands, battered and bruised, his body screaming in agony. But his spirit remains indomitable. "I won’t give up," he mutters, more to himself than to Thronjaw. "I can’t."
Thronjaw’s amusement turns into genuine excitement. "Good," he says. "This is going to be fun." He readies his sword for another attack, the thrill of the fight coursing through him.
The crowd’s cheers grow louder, their voices a tide of support for Arata. "Ryuki Arata! Ryuki Arata!" they chant, their hope rekindled by his unwavering resolve.
As the battle rages on, Arata stands tall, his body battered but his spirit unbroken. He faces Thronjaw with the same determination he had at the start, ready to fight until his last breath. The world watches, their hope resting on the shoulders of the young hero who refuses to give up.
Even at the headquarters, the tension is palpable. “Sir, Ryuki Arata…” an officer begins, his voice filled with a mix of astonishment and concern.
Commander Williams, his eyes glued to the livestream, shakes his head slowly. “This kid… He is special…” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. His normally stoic expression betrays a flicker of admiration and disbelief.
In room 309, the atmosphere is electric. “Unbelievable…” Alex mutters under his breath, his eyes wide with shock. “Since when was he able to hold his own against a calamity class? That should be impossible in ages… A complete rookie fighting against this calamity class Undergrounder…” Taylor, the seasoned Squad Leader, is in disbelief. His normally confident demeanor is replaced with a stunned silence.
Everyone in the room shares Taylor’s astonishment, their faces mirroring his incredulity. Carly’s usual nonchalance is gone, replaced with a look of pure awe. Lila’s fingers hover over her phone, forgotten in the excitement. Alex’s reports lie abandoned as his eyes remain fixed on the screen.
But amidst the shock and awe, two faces stand out with expressions of pride and satisfaction. Dan’s grin stretches from ear to ear, his eyes shining with a mix of relief and pride. He can barely contain his excitement, his fists clenched in silent celebration. “That’s Arata for you,” he whispers, his voice trembling with emotion.
Elio, standing beside Dan, shares the same look of proud disbelief. His eyes are locked onto the screen, watching every move Arata makes with a sense of personal investment. “He’s doing it,” Elio murmurs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “He’s really doing it.”
The room’s atmosphere is charged with a mixture of emotions. There’s shock, disbelief, and above all, a growing sense of hope. Arata’s tenacity, his refusal to back down, has sparked something in everyone watching. The disbelief begins to give way to admiration, and the initial shock turns into a burgeoning sense of faith in their unlikely hero.
As the battle rages on the screen, the people in room 309 are no longer passive observers. They lean forward in their seats, their breaths held in anticipation. Every block, every parry, every strike is met with a collective intake of breath. The room, once filled with doubt and resignation, is now alive with a renewed sense of hope, all because of the young man fighting valiantly against seemingly insurmountable odds.