Silent Storm’s eyes melted into inferiority as he muttered, "Always taking the spotlight... I'll teach you a lesson." The announcer's booming voice cut through the tension, "Seems they're both ready! On three... one... two... three!" The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers as the fight officially began.
Adalard, with an air of confident nonchalance, stood unperturbed. Casually slipping his hands into his pockets, he quipped, "I'll beat you with my legs! It'd be fair to you, as someone who is below the top five." With a swift motion, he kicked the air, creating a vacuum that surged towards Storm. The nimble fighter leaped skyward, narrowly evading the invisible force, and agilely planted his feet against the colosseum walls, using them as leverage to propel himself forward. His attack, a lightning-fast roundhouse aimed directly at Adalard's left cheek, crackled with imminent impact. But Adalard, displaying great reflexes, deftly caught Storm's incoming kick, locking their positions in a tense standoff. Reacting swiftly, Storm executed a swift front kick aimed at Adalard's face, the force of impact sending shockwaves through the arena. It landed, but Adalard, unfazed, calmly remarked, "Your stats are just lower than mine, friend."
With Storm's leg firmly held, Adalard raised his leg, poised to deliver a devastating blow akin to the Colossal’s legendary strength. The crowd gasped, aware of the impending danger. Adalard's strength stat was known to be exponentially higher than the Colossal's, foreboding a dire outcome for Storm.
Yet, in a moment of desperation, Storm unleashed it.
From what I could discern, Storm's base stats hovered around a level comparable to mine—somewhere in the range of low sixties to low seventies. Aroha's voice cut through the tension, "There it is, Storm's about to activate his skill." With bated breath, I strained to observe every movement, eager to decipher Storm's next move. Suddenly, Storm vanished from sight, leaving a blur of motion in his wake, a swift and elusive presence circling Adalard. Perplexed, I turned to Aroha for insight. "What is that?" I inquired, my gaze fixed on what assumedly was Storm. Aroha explained, "He's called Storm for a reason. His active ability, Storm Entanglement, level 2. It involves dashing around the opponent, creating a powerful wind current capable of cutting through 'anything.' At least, that's what the ability's description suggests."
Adalard's voice pierced through the maelstrom, acknowledging Storm's prowess. "Good work, Storm! Your skill packs a punch—I'm starting to bleed and gather cuts. I've allowed you your moment of glory in front of the crowd. Now, it's my turn to shine." Despite being within the eye of Storm's swirling ability, Adalard moved deliberately toward the ring, a calculated maneuver that hinted at his next move. I get it now! This active skill is a double edged sword, until the skill ends, Storm is forced to follow the movement! A simple placed clothesline by Adalard could end this!
With precision timing, Adalard extended his arm, intercepting Storm's path. The collision sent Storm careening backward in an eerie and uncanny arch across the arena floor. Adalard, assessing the situation coolly, remarked, "That's a formidable skill you have, Storm. However, aren't you compelled to run in a circle until it's finished? True, my attire is a tad tattered, and I'm bleeding..." He casually stretched his shoulder before concluding, "But it's inconsequential." In a surprising turn, Adalard pivoted gracefully and exited the arena, his departure swift and without fanfare, leaving the crowd momentarily stunned in silence, their cheers stifled by the pure domination set by this conclusion. The announcer's voice boomed triumphantly through the arena, electrifying the atmosphere, "W-w-wow! The Heart is dominant as usual! He moves onto round two! Now the last fight of the day will start in five minutes!"
Amidst the fervent chatter of the crowd discussing the riveting bout, Aroha and I engaged in our own analysis of the match. The air was charged with anticipation, and Aroha, never one to mince words, asked bluntly, "Could you beat him?" Shaking my head, I replied, "No, I don't think so. His stats are higher than mine. Currently, I could probably overcome a 10 to 20 stat difference." Aroha, always the encouraging one, reassured me, "Don't worry, you've always come through." Her unwavering support never ceased to amaze me. "I did notice something," I interjected, my gaze fixed on the fighters in the ring. "Heart seems like he's been pampered. I could tell Storm's been through some rough times. If Heart fights someone on or even near his level, he'll crumble." Aroha, nodding in agreement, confirmed my observation, "Yeah, I was thinking that too."
Glancing at the time on my phone, I noted the approaching hour—nearing five. The anticipation for the next fight heightened as the names were announced. "The God Fist and The Blaze Dragon." I murmured, a faint smile crossing my lips. "Pretty cool names, if I say so myself." Aroha's curiosity remained unrelenting. "Who do you have in this fight? All 'higher ranks' have won each. I don't think there's going to be an upset." I nodded in agreement, "Yeah, Blaze is out of his depth here." The disparity in skill and prowess between the fighters seemed evident, hinting at a predictable outcome for the impending battle.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
I would soon find myself taken aback by the turn of events, having made a confident statement earlier, only to find it disproven within the next five minutes. Fist and Dragon made their grand entrance onto the stage simultaneously, their gazes locked in a fierce standoff. Dragon sported the traditional white Judo Gi, accentuated by a black belt—a stark contrast to Fist, who appeared in what could only be described as literal pajama pants and a black t-shirt. Confidence radiated from Fist, evident in his demeanor.
Amidst the anticipation, I overheard the murmurs of an elderly couple seated nearby. "Really, pajamas? Kids these days..." Their disapproval resonated with a sentiment I acknowledged—proper attire should be a given in a match of such significance. Meanwhile, Dragon, with an air of focused determination, tightened his belt as he addressed Fist, "Let's do this, God Fist!"
In response, Fist raised his hand nonchalantly and let out a sigh, a display of casual indifference. Curiosity gnawed at me, prompting a question to Aroha, "How strong are both of them?" Aroha's response held a hint of surprise as she relayed their stats, "God Fist and The Blaze Dragon are nearly evenly matched. God Fist boasts 130 strength and 120 speed, whereas Dragon stands at 115 strength and 110 speed." The revelation of their closely matched stats left me astounded; this duel could swing in either direction.
The announcer's voice resonated through the arena once more, commanding attention, "They're both ready! Let's begin! One... two... three... fight!" The tension escalated as the bout commenced, the crowd bracing themselves for what promised to be an enthralling clash between these formidable opponents. God Fist, radiating impatience, lunged forward with a diagonal straight, a powerful but easily counterable punch. Dragon, swift and calculated, sidestepped the incoming fist, swiftly seizing the opportunity to bring God Fist down to the ground and hold him there. Fist was surprised, "What the hell?! Get off me!"
A gleam of satisfaction shone in Dragon's eyes, "That punch held immense strength! It had the potential to end it in a split second, but your moves are somewhat predictable." Reacting swiftly, God Fist twisted his torso and delivered a forceful punch to Dragon's chest, sending him hurtling into the air. As God Fist followed up with an uppercut, Dragon somehow anticipated the move—he's a good Judoka. The stage was set perfectly for Dragon's expertise. Leveraging his Judo techniques, Dragon executed a swift turn, compelling Fist to assume a vulnerable position underneath. Soon, both fighters began descending toward the ground, amidst Fist's fervent protests for Dragon to release him.
With a strategic maneuver, Dragon capitalized on Fist's desperation. "Thanks for being an idiot, now I win." Dragon forcefully propelled Fist outward, initiating a rapid spin that culminated in Fist's back colliding with the unyielding black concrete—the very surface that even Adalard couldn't break. The resounding crunch echoed through the arena, signaling the end of Fist's participation in the fight. He lay sprawled on all fours, defeated and motionless. Dragon, displaying a composed demeanor, adjusted his belt and bowed ceremoniously, uttering, "OUS!" The crowd was captivated by his performance, witnessing not just a skillful move but a masterful throw.
Aroha's astute observation cut through the applause, "That's not his skill; it was a mere masterful throw." The announcer's voice reverberated through the bustling arena, resonating with excitement as she wrapped up the day's exhilarating battles, "What amazing fights! Judoka vs Striker, Noble vs Outcast, and Time vs Force! Come back tomorrow for the final fights of round one!" The crowd gradually dispersed, buzzing with chatter about the day's highlights and eager anticipation for the upcoming matches.
As the arena emptied, Aroha and I rose from our seats, disposing of our trash before joining the flow of people making their way toward the exit. Amidst the shuffling crowd, I turned to Aroha, breaking the post-fight silence, "Hey, Aroha. Wanna play some games when we get home?" "Sure," she replied with a smile, her enthusiasm evident even after the thrilling bouts witnessed today. After a leisurely walk, we reached the comfort of home. Settling in, we sprawled out and indulged in some video game sessions as the day gradually surrendered to the calming embrace of evening. The familiar sounds of the games filled the room, providing a welcomed distraction and a chance to unwind after the day's excitement.
As the night deepened, I couldn't shake off the anticipation brewing within me. Tomorrow marked my turn to enter the ring, and despite the relaxed atmosphere, a quiet determination simmered beneath the surface. With each game played and every moment of relaxation, I focused on preparing myself mentally for the challenge awaiting me in the upcoming fight. I knew that when the next day arrived, I'd be ready to step into the arena and give it my all.