Tusk looked up at Zack, his face a mask of utter shock and disbelief. "Wh-what?" he stammered, the single syllable laced with confusion and a palpable fear he hadn't displayed before. His eyes darted around the arena, as if seeking an explanation for Zack's unexpected and brutal words from the stunned faces of the crowd.
Zack's gaze, however, remained fixed on Tusk, a distant, almost haunted look clouding his usually stoic features. An image flickered in his mind – a fleeting snapshot of his own brother, a figure etched in his memory with a complex blend of love and resentment. "Big brothers stand for their family," Zack began, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the lingering silence. "They protect their siblings. I had a big brother once." His eyes dropped to the dusty arena floor, a swirl of emotions playing across his face. "He would kill or die for me. But eventually… he left me." A bitter edge crept into his tone. "I hated him for that. But…" He paused, drawing a shaky breath before meeting Tusk's bewildered gaze again. "I wouldn't actually blame him. He still did his role."
A sudden shift hardened Zack's expression, his eyes now cold and dismissive. "You're a waste of time," he stated bluntly, the words hanging heavy in the air. Tusk recoiled as if struck, his trembling intensifying, his mouth agape in disbelief.
Zack pressed on, his voice relentless. "Your siblings rebel carried you and him as he fought. I can tell." He gestured dismissively. "He also kept you intact and does what you're supposed to do. So, in truth, you aren't even supposed to be called a big brother."
A spark of anger finally ignited in Tusk's eyes, overriding the initial shock. "Shut up!" he retorted, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and confusion. "You don't even know anything about our family! What's your deal?" The question hung in the air, a desperate plea for understanding in the face of Zack's harsh judgment. Neither Tusk nor anyone in the arena had anticipated such a personal and scathing attack.
Zack remained unmoved by Tusk's outburst. "All you do is hide around," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "Your brother protects you from the world while it should be the other way around. You have no fighting experience. Why?" He paused for emphasis. "Because your brother had to train extra hard to replace for you. Am I right?" He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Look, you, when it comes to family, I understand. But you're becoming an asshole."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Zack's words were a brutal accusation, laid bare for everyone to witness. Tusk's eyes darted around, taking in the shocked and disapproving expressions on the faces of the spectators. A wave of shame and anger washed over him, directed squarely at Zack.
Fueled by a desperate need to prove Zack wrong and a surge of protectiveness for his brother, Tusk roared, charging towards Zack with his sword staff held high. The weapon descended in a swift arc, aimed to silence the relentless accusations. But Zack moved with lightning speed, effortlessly intercepting the blow with his own blade. The clang of steel echoed through the arena.
Without missing a beat, Zack's foot shot out, connecting with Tusk's chest and sending him sprawling across the dusty floor in a disoriented roll. Tusk scrambled to regain his footing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Pathetic," Zack sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "You know, I don't blame you anymore, right now I blame your brother."
Something inside Tusk snapped. The relentless insults directed at him he could almost bear, but the attack on his brother, the one person who had always shielded him, was too much to endure. Struggling to rise, his face contorted with a raw, untamed fury. "Don't you ever say my brother's name ever again!" he screamed, tears welling in his eyes, blurring his vision. "You can insult me, but not my brother!"
Zack remained impassive, his gaze unwavering. "Oh, so now you want to protect him?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But even you have to admit it…"
"SHUT UP!!!" Tusk bellowed, launching himself at Zack in a frenzy of weak, desperate attacks. His movements were clumsy, fueled by pure emotion rather than skill. Zack, with practiced ease, deflected each wild swing, the metallic clashes a stark contrast to Tusk's uncoordinated efforts.
With a swift, brutal movement, Zack used the end of his sword handle, slamming it into the bridge of Tusk's nose. A sickening crunch echoed through the stunned silence as Tusk was sent flying backward once more, landing in a crumpled heap. Blood gushed from his nose, staining the arena floor crimson.
For a disorienting moment, Tusk's senses swam. The roar of the crowd faded into a muffled ringing in his ears, as if he were submerged underwater. Sounds grew distant, the edges of his vision darkening as he teetered on the brink of consciousness.
As Tusk's world threatened to fade to black, he felt a strong hand grip his arm. Zack had sheathed his sword and was now lifting him from the ground, his expression unreadable.
"If your brother wasn't so soft on you," Zack said, his voice surprisingly devoid of emotion, "then you would have taken your role more seriously. Even he and you know you're pathetic."
Tusk, dazed and bleeding, instinctively tried to pull away, his weak hands grasping at Zack's arm. He struggled to speak, his breath catching in his throat. "Don-don't say my…" He gasped for air, the pain in his nose excruciating. "Brothers name…" More tears streamed down his bloodied face.
Zack's grip remained firm. "If you are denying what I'm saying, then where is your brother right now?" he asked, his voice sharp and accusatory.
Tusk's eyes widened in a fresh wave of shock and realization. The question hung in the air, a stark and undeniable truth.
Zack didn't wait for a response. "He's in the hospital. He was fighting for your family, and you were hiding behind everyone's back. You could have come to this tournament and saved him the stress, but yet he came knowing you can't do nothing. I don't blame him at the same time, I do." With a dismissive shove, Zack sent Tusk sprawling back onto the arena floor.
This time, Tusk didn't try to get up. He lay there, a broken figure amidst the dust and blood, his body wracked with sobs. He didn't attempt to stifle the tears that flowed freely, a torrent of shame, guilt, and a dawning understanding of Zack's brutal assessment.
The crowd was stunned into silence. The earlier excitement had evaporated, replaced by a palpable unease and shock at Zack's ruthless display. The young women who had proudly displayed posters of their beloved Zack slowly lowered them, their expressions a mixture of confusion and disappointment. The others exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to reconcile the seemingly cold-hearted brutality they had just witnessed with the image they had formed of the skilled but reserved fighter.
Only Zack seemed unaffected by the shift in the crowd's sentiment. His gaze remained fixed on the weeping figure on the ground, his mind racing. (This is the only way I could think that I can fuel him. He has to fight with his full potential. His brother told him he leaves the rest to him, and it's up to me to make sure he fights me with everything he's got so he wouldn't disappoint his brother. I'm also fighting for my brother and mother, and if I was acting like Tusk, I wouldn't have gotten anything done so…)
Lost in his thoughts, Zack momentarily let his guard down, his focus entirely inward. He didn't notice the subtle shift in Tusk's demeanor, the way his sobs gradually subsided, replaced by an unnerving stillness. The tears stopped flowing, and a chilling silence descended upon the fallen fighter.
Then, with a suddenness that caught everyone off guard, Tusk exploded from the ground, propelled by a force that seemed to defy his previous weakness. He launched himself at Zack, a fist connecting with brutal force against Zack's jaw, sending the stoic fighter staggering backward, his feet skidding across the arena floor.
Zack blinked in surprise, a trickle of blood escaping his lips. He looked up at Tusk, a flicker of something akin to respect in his eyes. The entire crowd erupted in a roar of disbelief and renewed excitement. Tusk, silent and resolute, moved with a newfound purpose, retrieving his fallen sword staff. His wide, unblinking eyes, devoid of any discernible emotion, were fixed on Zack with a terrifying stillness. He began to advance slowly, each step deliberate and menacing.
"I'll kill you," Tusk said, his voice low and devoid of inflection, a chilling contrast to his earlier cries. "I'll kill you."
Zack wiped the blood from his lips, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yes," he said, his voice regaining its usual confident tone. "This is what everyone wants. And now, show me how much you…"
Before Zack could finish his sentence, Tusk moved with an astonishing speed that defied comprehension. One moment he was several feet away, the next he was upon Zack, his sword staff a blur of motion. The entire crowd gasped, many believing for a fleeting instant that he had teleported.
Rider, watching from the pavilion, was awestruck. "I don't know what is more impressive," he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief, "the fact that Tusk moved so fast we thought he teleported, or the fact that Zack stopped that attack!"
Aingo, his detached observation shattered by the sudden turn of events, muttered under his breath, a hint of apprehension in his voice. "This is it. The two young warriors that have showed more potential in raw energy and incredible agility are going head to head. I don't think nobody can take their eyes off… damn it." The thought of either of these transformed fighters facing Rider if the win sent a shiver of unease down his spine. The comfortable distance he had maintained as an observer had suddenly vanished, replaced by the stark reality of their formidable power.