I watched as Azarⱬum calmly stepped forward into the makeshift arena, his black eyes fixated on Haruko. Haruko, a boy with a reputation for being rough and aggressive, smirked, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.
"Ready to lose, Sevar?" he growled, his words echoing through the silent crowd.
Haruko lunged forward, his right fist flying towards Azarⱬum's face. But Azarⱬum sidestepped the attack, evading with an almost casual grace. It was as if he could predict Haruko's every move before it even happened.
Anger flashed across Haruko's face. He was used to intimidating his opponents with his size and strength, but Azarⱬum was different. Unfazed, Haruko charged again, this time aiming a brutal kick. But again, Azarⱬum moved effortlessly to the side, avoiding the blow.
The onlookers were stunned into silence. It was like watching a cat toy with a mouse.
Haruko's frustration boiled over.He created a sword from his own Nexus. He swung wildly, no longer caring about strategy or technique, just wanting to land a blow, any blow. But each attack was dodged with infuriating ease. Azarⱬum's calm exterior was unyielding, seemingly bored as he avoided Haruko's increasingly desperate attacks.
Azarⱬum went on the attack. His eyes shone with excitement. His every movement is accompanied by a blue-hued nexus glow. He didn't hit him hard, just knocked him down.
Haruko hit the hard dirt with a thud, coughing and gasping for air. He had never faced someone so fast and unpredictable. He had expected to dominate this fight, but Azarⱬum had made a fool out of him.
The crowd watched, dumbfounded. No one had expected such a swift and effortless victory. I found myself staring at Azarⱬum, fascinated by his unusual fighting style.
Haruko struggled back to his feet, his pride wounded but his determination not broken. He knew he was outmatched, but the thought of losing to Azarⱬum was more than he could handle.
Bracing himself, he charged for the third time, his fists clenched tightly.
Azarⱬum dodged and weaved with incredible agility, effortlessly evading Haruko's increasingly desperate attacks. The crowd watched in amazement as the two combatants exchanged a flurry of punches and kicks, creating bursts of Nexus energy. It was like watching a well-choreographed dance, each move flowing seamlessly into the next. The sounds of impact echoed through the quiet battlefield, accompanied by the soft hum of Nexus energy.
Haruko's Nexus techniques were powerful, but Azarⱬum seemed to expect every move, countering with an almost uncanny precision.
The fight dragged on. Haruko was starting to tire, his movements becoming sloppier as exhaustion set in. Azarⱬum, on the other hand, looked as though he had barely broken a sweat. His dark eyes were fixed on Haruko, analyzing every minute movement.
Azarⱬum rushed at Haruko, his smile a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He pulled out the Nexus Threads from his left hand, the long, white threads gleaming in the artificial light, and turned them into a blade. With a flick of his wrists, he countered Haruko's sword, the blades clanging off each other in a sparking display of speed and precision. The air seemed to crackle with energy as the two fighters danced around one another, both pushing themselves to the limits of their abilities.
Haruko charged, sword low, hoping to knock Azarⱬum off his game. But those odd white threads of Azarⱬum's moved like they were alive, twisting into a shield. It glimmered just enough to turn Haruko's blade aside. Azarⱬum didn't even bother to move his feet. Looked like he didn't need to. His face was a mask, hard to read, almost like he was bored. As if this whole fight was just something he had to get through.
Haruko bit down, faked a move one way, then swung his sword upward with everything he had. For a split second, it seemed he'd broken through Azarⱬum's guard. Nope. Just as his sword found an opening, Azarⱬum disappeared. A slight whoosh of air behind him, and then—
A kick slammed into Haruko's ribs, sending him staggering. He gasped, the pain stealing his breath. Azarⱬum was standing right behind him, those threads now formed into a blade shape, humming softly with contained power.
You're working too hard, Azarⱬum said, his voice cool as ice. Quit trying to do too much.
Haruko spun around, yelling, but his next strike never landed. The threads shot out, wrapping around his sword like snakes, locking it tight. Azarⱬum didn't finish him. He simply pushed, and Haruko went down hard, his weapon yanked from his hands and flung across the floor.
Azarⱬum turned, real slow, deliberately slow, to face it: the pulsating energy core. This thing was enormous, like a giant, glowing heart that throbbed rhythmically, just sitting there in its ornate case crafted from stunningly beautiful crystals. It was positioned in the very center of the vast arena, pulsing with an overwhelming power, an energy so palpable that you could almost feel it against your skin, like the heartbeat of the whole place resonating through the air around them.
He raised a hand, careful and precise, as if he were attempting to navigate a delicate balance.
Right away, in an instant, the core exploded with a dazzling burst of light—red light, vibrant and fierce. It flooded the room, enveloping everything in its glow, and everyone in the stands felt a sudden jolt move through them, a tingling sensation that raced across their skin, electrifying the atmosphere.
Haruko was on the ground, struggling to push himself up, gasping for air that felt thick and heavy, but the core wasn't paying him any mind anymore; it was focused solely on the display of its power.
Azarⱬum took his hand back, deliberate and measured.
The red light shut off abruptly, just like a switch being flipped. The room fell quiet, an eerie stillness settling in.
Up in the stands, the Three Elders were suddenly on their feet, their expressions contorted as if they'd just seen a ghost materialize before their eyes. One of them mumbled, barely loud enough to hear amidst the tension, "He silenced the core… That's not something you can do." His voice was filled with disbelief and awe.
The Teacher, perched up in the fancy box above, observing everything with keen interest, took a step forward, his expression serious. He opened his mouth to speak, to perhaps impart some wisdom or instruction, but then just shut it tight, the words evading him. There were no words that could adequately capture the gravity of the moment. Not yet, anyway.
The new Judge, clad in impressive armor and who had been completely expressionless the entire time, suddenly grabbed at his weapon in a swift motion, but he didn't pull it out. Azarⱬum didn't even glance at him, his focus unwavering and resolute.
Instead, he pulled up the hood on his robe, so his face was deliberately hidden in shadow, cloaked in mystery.
Then—you could hear the steel in his voice, firm and unyielding—he turned to the other fighters, who were still standing back at the edge of the arena, unsure of what to make of the spectacle before them. His voice was loud and clear, ringing out with authority.
"You see that? The Nexus isn't here to protect something. It's for fighting, fierce and unrelenting. I'll see you all in the finals."
And that was it, just like that. He turned and walked off, not like he was just another fighter lost in the crowd, but like he was a warning, a herald of the challenges yet to come. The tension in the room hung heavy in the air as the audience processed his words, the energy of the arena still crackling all around them.