Ansel's eyes shot open. The mental feedback from the golden orb's integration into his mind wracked his head. A searing pain shot through his nerves with even the faintest bat of his eyelids. His vision was saturated to the point where his surroundings appeared bleached by a blinding white light. 'What the hell is going on?'
Just then, a dark object came into focus—hovering just above his eyeball. It was the silhouette of Dominic's pinky finger, about to come into contact. As the image of Dominic's face grew sharper within his line of sight, Ansel couldn't help but feel as if the Grim Reaper itself were personally advocating for his death.
Ansel let out a long exhale through his nostrils, waiting for Dominic's finger to reach him and end all his needless suffering. Yet, for some reason, the end never came. Ansel blinked—once, twice—his eyes darting around in utter confusion.
As his surroundings became clearer, Ansel realized the world was stripped of its color. He was suspended in a familiar monochrome landscape—the same colorless world he had witnessed many years ago. Caught in the black-and-white landscape, Ansel felt as if he were living a dream.
"Ha..." An exasperated sigh, carrying the utmost relief one could muster, escaped from Ansel's mouth. He threw his head back and laughed, the tears drying against his cheeks. "Heh... I'm not dead. I'm actually still alive."
Dominic's slowly approaching finger, less than a centimeter away from coming into contact with Ansel, felt as if it were on the other side of the sky completely. So close, yet so infinitely far away. Golden particles were fluttering in the air—like the blurry forms of honey-covered butterflies, imprinting a clandestine yellow on a stained photograph.
"Ahh..." Ansel breathed through his mouth. It was at that moment he realized his body was completely unscathed. All the traces of the brutal beating he had endured had simply vanished. His bones were snapped together in their proper places, and his skin was unblemished, as if he had just stepped out of a cold, cleansing shower.
"Thank you..." Ansel blinked, a fresh wave of tears welling within his eyes. The orb that he had so desperately wanted to forget ended up being the singular fragmented memory that saved him. The words that it spoke—so alien, so distant, yet so warm and loving. The memory was the sound. It refused to be forgotten, instead fusing with Ansel's very being.
"Shine." The word echoed across the monochrome field. Ansel closed his eyes, staring pointedly at Dominic's extended finger. Then, sucking in a breath, he closed his eyes. His infinite void stretched out before him, devouring the landscape and submerging Ansel adrift in a sea of endless oily black.
There was nothing in sight. It was dark. It was desolate. Yet, Ansel felt no sign of discomfort. The buzzing in his head was no longer incessant; it was tender. Smiling softly to himself, Ansel could feel an invisible barrier slowly approaching—just about to prick his skin.
His hand was moving before he could think. His right palm, moving in a perfectly diagonal line, cut through the void—sending vibrations through the space like ripples across the surface of a lake—before all the frequencies converged on the point of contact between Dominic and Ansel.
Drip. The sound of a single drop of water falling into an infinite ocean. The color of the world snapped back into place. Dominic's finger touched Ansel's forehead, and the whole crowd went silent—collectively awaiting the gory scene about to unfold.
*.* *
"Ansel!" Cerua screamed, pushing aside another student as she rushed toward the sidelines with Rotteger and Sven following suit.
Rotteger's face was already streaming with tears. He was using the last of his strength to chase after Cerua. The only thing he wanted to do at the moment was curl up into a ball and wallow in a fit of self-despair. He could have stopped this. He could have convinced Ansel to give up on the duel.
"Hehe," Ishi giggled, watching as Ansel's friends rushed to the scene. The only one who stayed put in her place was Eyra. Her head was turned toward the battleground, watching with wide eyes filled with an equal mixture of hope and terror. "You had faith in him," Ishi chuckled, "didn't you?"
* * *
"Lotus Style," Ansel's voice came out low.
The smile was wiped off Dominic's face. He peered down at the unblemished Ansel, whose eyes held a faint golden light that hadn't been present just moments ago. All the hope that had gathered inside Dominic's heart began to evaporate, engulfed by a feeling of sheer emptiness... and fear. 'I'm afraid.'
"Resonant Counter."
The stored energy from Dominic's attacks, about to be released across Ansel's body, suddenly sprang back to his palm, which was now pressed against the tip of Dominic's pinky finger. The air around the point of contact began to reverberate, as if buzzing with excitement.
Dominic tried to pull away, but he couldn't tell if the force was too great or if he was just slow. At that moment, time did not matter in the slightest. What mattered was the fact that everything he had lived for—the dream he had lived for since he was a little child—was about to be shattered by a single touch.
The force spilled out into the air in circular rings, vibrating out from the point of contact in deafening booms. One after the other, the air was split apart and mutilated in a beautiful, measured fashion. It was a physical artwork of gore hidden from the naked eye.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM...
The rings of air continued to vibrate. Dominic let out a pained gasp, feeling the strength seeping away from his muscles. "I—" Before he could even finish, the force exploded back out into an uncontrolled shockwave. Dominic was sent flying back at a dizzying speed, his eyes rolled back in his head—already unconscious. He thumped against the sandy ground, bumping and rolling until...
CLANG. His body crashed against the side of the arena wall, cooped up against the corner. His right arm was bruised from the attack and a few of his bones were broken, but Ansel was careful not to cause any major injuries. That was why he had chosen to release an uncontrolled shockwave rather than redirect all the force of Dominic's stored strikes back at him.
* * *
"I can't believe it," Eyra gasped, taking a step forward toward her friends. "He's already mastered the second apex... but how? I didn't even see him attack Dominic."
A thick cloud of sand had obscured the battleground. News of Dominic's defeat spread across the crowd, but Ansel's status was still hidden within the haze. The crowd had just witnessed an impossible feat.
"Ansel!" Sven jumped across the sidelines, not having the time to gawk. Alongside Cerua and Rotteger, he charged into the cloud of dust, gritting his teeth as his eyes desperately scanned for any sign of his friend—or his remains, for that matter.
And just then, as the dust began to die down, a silhouette appeared at the center of the arena. With nape-length, spiky auburn hair and a reddened palm billowing smoke, he stood. His eyes were hazel, adorned with mesmerizing specks of gold.
"Ansel..."
* * *
"My God..." The color had drained from Gunther's face. His eyepatch was stretched off to the side, revealing the glowing white of his left eye. He could feel every fiber of his being scream in a state of utter stupor at the sight he had just witnessed and the analytical data flowing through his brain. "That boy..." He turned to look at his former colleague.
Pengal stared down at Ansel with the happiest grin he could muster. "I told you it would be worth it," Pengal beamed, raising his hands. Then, the sharp noise of his clapping cut through the din. "Bravo! Amazing show!"
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause—everyone awestruck by Ansel's sudden victory. It was the most unprecedented event that had ever occurred in the history of Farrah's Unified Training Academy. It was a day that would go down in the Garden's history.
* * *
Iseul grinned, placing a hand on Xerxes' shoulder. "Seems like there was nothing to worry about. That boy sure knows how to make us worried, huh?" She lightly chuckled.
"There is no us," Xerxes gulped, staring at Ansel's silhouette breaking past the vortex of dust scattered through the air. "...Just what exactly are you hoping to make of that child?"
Iseul hummed, bringing a finger to her lips in thought. "...A ticket."
* * *
Dominic's eyes batted open. His body was covered with sand, and he could feel every muscle ache sorely. He almost wanted to dig at his own skin—but the pain he was experiencing was only a fraction of what Ansel had endured. Dominic couldn't help but feel utterly pathetic.
"Clara..." He stood up, slumping his back against the secluded arena wall. "Clara..." he repeated, his breathing beginning to grow heavy. He slammed his fist into the ground—bruising the knuckles—as he began to sob. "Damn it! Hic... I–I... am I not g-good enough, Clara?" His tears fell to the ground.
Drip, drip, drip.