As the guards swiftly and efficiently carried Rebel's still form towards the medical center, a heavy silence descended upon the immediate battlefield. Tusk remained exactly where he had fallen, a statue of shock and trauma etched against the dusty ground. His eyes, wide and unfocused, stared blankly at the spot where his brother had lain moments before. Zack, ever the silent observer, stood a short distance away, his gaze fixed on Tusk, a quiet understanding radiating from him. No words were needed to convey the weight of the moment.
Meanwhile, the raw tension between Enshou and Tanker remained palpable. Tanker, his face a mask of fury, stood toe-to-toe with the older warrior, his voice a low growl as he repeated his demand. "Tell me how the hell you knew that move!" Each word was laced with accusation, Tanker viewing Enshou's knowledge of Dextin's technique as a direct threat, a violation of some unspoken boundary.
Enshou, however, seemed lost in his own world, his gaze fixed on the ground, his expression devoid of any discernible emotion. "Please... not now," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, refusing to even meet Tanker's intense stare as he attempted to walk past.
For a fleeting moment, Tanker was taken aback by Enshou's blatant dismissal. The audacity of being ignored in such a charged atmosphere only served to fuel his already simmering anger. His hand shot out, gripping Enshou firmly by the shoulders, halting his movement. "Listen, old man," Tanker seethed, his grip tightening. "I don't know if you realize it, but that move you just pulled... that was Dextin's. And not only did you know it, you executed it perfectly. How? I won't ask again." The pressure on Enshou's shoulders increased, a clear threat of physical violence hanging in the air.
Enshou finally reacted, his body tensing. With a sharp, dismissive flick of his arms, he shrugged off Tanker's grip, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto Tanker's, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. "Fuck you," Enshou stated simply, the words carrying a surprising weight of defiance.
Tanker took a menacing step closer, his fist clenching, determined to extract an answer by any means necessary. He was poised to strike when Azreal, sensing the imminent eruption, swiftly intervened. He turns his attention towards the two tense figures, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. "As the winners of the first and second rounds, I strongly advise you two to reserve your animosity for the semi-finals!" Azreal declared, his gaze then shifting pointedly towards Tanker. "And Tanker, if you are so desperate for an explanation, perhaps it is because Enshou used to be a father figure to Dextin."
The revelation hung in the air, momentarily stunning Tanker into silence. His furious expression slowly morphed into one of shock and confusion before settling back into a deep frown. With a frustrated grunt, he turned sharply and stomped away, the tension in his shoulders still evident.
High above the arena, in the royal chamber, King Neon observed the unfolding drama with a palpable sense of unease. The raw intensity and potential for tragedy that had permeated the tournament since its inception weighed heavily on him. He recognized the emotional toll it was taking on everyone involved, the way it was tearing at the bonds between them. Yet, he remained resolute in his conviction that this brutal competition was a necessary evil, the only way to identify the true heir to the mantle of Sword Master.
Down in the arena, Azreal's keen eyes scanned the remaining contenders. A flicker of concern crossed his face as he internally mused, (Damn it, this isn't proceeding as smoothly as I had envisioned. It's only a matter of time before someone suffers a truly fatal injury. Perhaps it would be prudent to temporarily suspend the tournament and resume at a later date. Yes, I believe the other contenders would...)
His thoughts were abruptly cut short as his gaze landed on Bianca and Valen. Their faces, though bearing traces of the preceding intensity, were now set with a determined resolve. They stood ready, their eyes fixed on him, patiently awaiting his signal. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Azreal's lips. (There was no genuine reason for apprehension after all. These individuals came here with a singular purpose: to claim the title of Sword Master. They are prepared to risk everything, even their lives, for that ambition.) With renewed confidence, Azreal straightened his posture and addressed the crowd. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen! With the conclusion of the first and second rounds, we now eagerly anticipate the commencement of the third round, featuring the formidable Valen against the skilled Bianca!"
A fresh wave of cheers erupted from the crowd, their excitement reignited. Azreal continued, his voice booming across the arena, "With that said, may both contenders please step into the ring!" As the echoes of his announcement faded, Valen and Bianca entered the designated fighting area, their eyes locked on each other, anticipation and focus radiating from them.
Meanwhile, amidst the throng of spectators, Rider's anxiety was visibly escalating. His leg bounced nervously against the ground, a rapid, rhythmic tapping that betrayed his inner turmoil. Aingo, ever observant, noticed his companion's agitation. "I thought you said if she had sufficient time to strategize, Bianca could even defeat me," Aingo remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "So why the sudden nervousness?"
Rider ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. "I know, I know," he stammered, his gaze darting towards the ring. "It's just... with everything that has happened, I can't shake this feeling of unease. I don't understand it myself." Aingo sighed heavily.
In the center of the arena, the resounding clang of the bell pierced the air, instantly amplifying the already electric atmosphere. The crowd roared its approval, still buzzing from the dramatic events of the previous battles. Valen and Bianca stood facing each other, the air between them thick with unspoken intent. Bianca's gaze was analytical, carefully assessing Valen's stance and demeanor, searching for any telltale signs of weakness or tactical preference. Valen, in contrast, focused on Bianca's unwavering resolve, seeking to gauge the depth of her commitment.
Bianca's thoughts raced, her mind a whirlwind of strategic calculations. (I still lack sufficient information about him to pinpoint his vulnerabilities or blind spots. However, it is evident that he relies heavily on his raw hand strength rather than any discernible weapon mastery. This creates a significant disadvantage in a sword fight against someone trained in the art. His lack of established sword techniques is an opening I can exploit.) With a sudden burst of speed, Bianca launched her attack, aiming for a swift, decisive opening strike.
In a blur of motion, Valen's sword rose to meet hers. His sword flashed upwards, intercepting Bianca's descending blade with a resounding clang. Both fighters locked their weapons, a brief struggle for dominance ensuing as they pushed against each other, testing the other's strength. In that fleeting moment of close combat, Valen unexpectedly extended his free hand, lunging to grab Bianca. Her instincts screamed a warning, and she managed to step back just in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding his grasp. A cold shiver ran down her spine as the realization of the danger she had narrowly escaped settled in.
The crowd gasped in unison, utterly shocked by Valen's unorthodox fighting style. Rider turned to Aingo, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Did he just try to grab her? He's using his bare hands as his advantage in a sword fight!"
Aingo nodded slowly, a hint of grim understanding in his eyes. "Indeed. They call him the Beast Hunter for a reason. He doesn't subdue monstrous creatures with conventional weapons; his bare hands, capable of crushing bone and breaking steel, are his primary tools. For a swordsman to face an opponent who disregards the very weapon they wield... I, for one, am intrigued to see how Bianca navigates this unprecedented challenge. Regardless of the outcome, however, my personal investment remains unchanged."