Ryū planted his feet. He drew in a sharp breath, chest expanding, then he clapped.
Not a gentle meeting of palms. A violent collision, every muscle in his arms and shoulders driving the motion.
He didn't just mimic the sound—he poured his own elemental control into it, shaping raw vibration through the air with the same precision he used for fire or wind.
CRACK-BOOOOOM.
Two walls of sound collided in the space between them.
The impact was cataclysmic.
The air itself screamed.
A visible shock dome expanded outward from the clash point, shattering every remaining window in the nearby buildings.
The ground heaved violently, cracks spiderwebbing across the plaza in every direction.
Chunks of concrete and rebar launched skyward. The half-collapsed building groaned louder, a support beam snapping with a metallic twang as the structure shifted.
Ryū felt the backlash slam into his body like a tidal wave.
His feet slid backward several meters, heels digging trenches.
His arms vibrated painfully from the force. But he held.
Ken staggered too, eyes wide with surprise as his own attack rebounded partially.
Dust and debris swirled in a violent vortex between them.
For a moment, the only sound was the distant patter of falling rubble and the low rumble of settling earth.
Ryū lowered his hands, flexing his fingers. A thin trail of blood dripped from one ear, but he ignored it. "Your sound is raw power. Mine is shaped. Focused."
Ken wiped sweat from his brow, light flickering erratically around his shoulders. "You… copied that?"
"Not copied," Ryū said, stepping forward through the settling dust. "Adapted."
Ken snarled and attacked once more, refusing to yield momentum.
He bent light aggressively this time, creating a bright flash right in Ryū's face to blind him, then followed with a sweeping kick infused with a laser edge along his shin.
Ryū shut his eyes at the exact right instant, relying on other senses.
He felt the displacement of air, the shift in temperature. His hand snapped down, catching Ken's ankle mid-swing.
The light edge burned his palm, but he squeezed, elemental reinforcement turning the grip iron-hard.
Ken twisted free with a grunt, using another clap to blast himself backward and gain distance.
The shockwave rippled out, but weaker this time—fatigue setting in.
Ryū pursued.
He shouted this time instead of clapping— a short, guttural cry channeled through his throat and diaphragm. The sound wave burst forward in a focused cone, slamming into Ken's hasty block.
The boy's arms shook from the impact. His feet left the ground for a split second before he landed hard, skidding.
Ken retaliated with light. He thrust both palms forward. A thick beam erupted, no longer a needle but a solid cylinder of white-hot energy, bending and weaving as he guided it manually.
It carved a molten trench through the ground as it homed in on Ryū.
Ryū didn't try to control the light.
He knew his limits there.
Ken's manipulation was too refined—bending photons on the fly, focusing them into coherent beams that acted like solid matter one moment and pure heat the next. Instead, Ryū layered his own energy over his body like armor. He stepped into the beam.
Heat engulfed him. Smoke billowed instantly, thick and black, wrapping his form.
The beam scorched across his chest and shoulders, fabric disintegrating, skin bubbling and charring on the surface. Pain roared through him—intense, blinding for a heartbeat.
But he kept walking forward.
The beam pushed against him like a physical wall, yet his reinforced frame held.
Superficial layers burned away. Deeper tissue remained intact.
When the beam finally dissipated, Ryū emerged from the smoke cloud, body steaming, clothes in ashes, fresh burns painting red and black across his torso and arms. His hair was singed at the edges. Yet his eyes were clear, steady.
He looked… almost appreciative.
Ken's chest heaved. Sweat poured down his face. His light constructs flickered, less stable now. "How are you still moving? That should've—"
Ryū cut him off by moving in close again.
No flashy light steps. Just raw, grounded speed and positioning.
He threw a series of measured strikes—jab to the face, hook to the body, low kick to the knee.
Ken blocked the first two with light-hardened forearms, but the kick landed, buckling his leg.
Ken clapped desperately.
The shockwave erupted between them at close range.
Ryū answered with his own clap, perfectly timed.
The dual explosions merged into one deafening thunderclap.
The ground bucked like a living thing. A nearby lamppost toppled with a crash.
Windows that had somehow survived earlier shattered in a glittering rain.
Both fighters were thrown apart—Ryū rolling smoothly to his feet, Ken tumbling harder, catching himself on one knee.
Smoke continued to rise from Ryū's body in thin wisps. Burns covered him now like war paint, but none slowed his movements.
He could feel the limits of his fortification; each light strike chipped away at it, forcing him to constantly reinforce. But it held. For now.
Ken rose slowly, light gathering once more around his fists, though dimmer.
Sound hummed faintly in the air around him, ready for the next clap.
The fight stretched on, uninterrupted. Blow after blow. Light lances cutting through the haze.
Sound waves clashing in visible ripples that shook the foundations of the ruined plaza.
Ryū blocked, absorbed, adapted. Ken struck, burned, pushed with everything he had.
And still, the boy pressed as if victory was just one perfect combination away.
Ryū watched every motion, every flicker of light and distortion of air.
He mimicked where he could—shaping his own sound waves with shouts and claps that grew sharper, more directed.
When Ken tried another spiraling laser barrage, Ryū fortified and closed the distance, forcing the fight into brutal close quarters where light bending became harder to apply perfectly.
The plaza trembled again as another dual sound clash erupted.
Dust choked the air. The half-collapsed building finally gave up a section of wall, crashing down in a roar of masonry that neither fighter paid attention to.
Ryū's burns stung with every movement.
Smoke curled from his shoulders. His ears rang constantly now.
But he was learning.
And the fight continued, fierce and unbroken, under the fractured sky.