The Clash of Lightning and Will
Hiratsu's heart pounded-not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the immeasurable power radiating from the arena. The atmosphere was electric, every competitor and spectator holding their breath in anticipation.
A deafening silence filled the grand coliseum, only to be shattered by a sharp, mechanical
"BEEEEEP!"
The match had begun.
The crowd erupted with excitement, their voices merging into a chaotic roar.
It felt as though every single person watching was ready to jump into the fight themselves.
But down in the arena, only two warriors stood.
Itsuki and Isamu.
There was no hesitation.
No drawn-out staring contest.
The battle began the very second the signal was given.
A blinding bolt of lightning erupted from Itsuki's fingertips, splitting the air with a violent crack.
Isamu barely had time to react.
He threw his arms up, forming a shimmering barrier just in time to block the attack-but the sheer force of the lightning sent him sliding backward,
his boots carving trenches into the stone floor.
The moment his barrier dropped, Isamu lunged forward.
A single punch-fast, calculated,
deadly.
But Itsuki was gone.
His speed was unreal.
A blur of motion, nothing but crackling streaks of electricity left in his wake.
He reappeared behind Isamu, lightning coiling around his arms like living serpents.
Isamu barely twisted in time to avoid the full force of the strike, but the shockwave sent him tumbling to the ground.
The crowd gasped.
Isamu gritted his teeth and rolled to his feet, his fingers tightening into fists.
He wasn't going down that easily.
Itsuki smirked.
"You're tough. I like that."
But before Isamu could move-he vanished.
One second he was there. The next, nothing.
A sudden, unnatural silence settled over the arena.
Itsuki's smirk faded.
His eyes darted around, his instincts screaming at him.
Where-?
A chill ran down his spine.
This wasn't right.
This wasn't just speed.
It was as if Isamu had truly disappeared.
For the first time in this fight, fear slithered into Itsuki's chest.
And he didn't like it.
His hand twitched.
No choice.
He clenched his fists, gathering all his remaining mana.
If he couldn't find Isamu, then he'd leave him no place to hide.
A violent storm of lightning exploded outward, covering the entire battlefield.
The ground shattered, arcs of raw energy streaking through the air, turning the arena into a crackling death zone.
Then-
A cough.
Itsuki's breathing was ragged as he looked ahead. The dust began to settle, and standing there
-**burned, bleeding, his leg barely holding him up-**
was Isamu.
He should have been unconscious.
He should have been broken.
But he stood.
Unshaken.
Unyielding.
A slow grin stretched across Itsuki's face.
This was a real fight.
He exhaled and finally lowered his fists. The battle was over.
He had won.
But winning didn't feel as important as what he had just witnessed.
He stepped closer, watching Isamu struggle to stay upright.
The match official was already rushing forward, declaring Itsuki the victor.
But he ignored them.
Instead, he placed a firm hand on Isamu's shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes.
"Isamu, thank you."
Isamu blinked in confusion.
"For showing me your bravery."
Itsuki's voice was quiet but steady.
"I've never fought someone like you. I am glad to have met you today."
For a moment, Isamu just stared at him. Then, despite his exhaustion, he smiled.
And the crowd erupted into deafening applause.
Ten minutes passed as the arena was hastily restored-shattered stone replaced, scorch marks erased, and the battlefield renewed for the next fight.
The energy in the stadium was still electric from the last battle, the echoes of Itsuki and Isamu's clash lingering in the air.
But the moment the next contestant stepped into the arena, the crowd's excitement shifted into sheer confusion.
A girl.
Not just any girl-a bright, cheerful, and undeniably adorable girl.
She practically skipped onto the battlefield, humming to herself, her golden hair bouncing with every step.
No killing intent.
No tension.
No aura of a battle-hardened warrior.
Just pure, unshakable happiness.
The audience murmured amongst themselves.
"Why is she here?"
"Is this a mistake?"
"She looks too innocent to fight!"
Yet, as puzzled as everyone was, no one could deny that her smile was infectious.
Even some of the more seasoned fighters found themselves lowering their guard, if only for a moment, as they watched her twirl in place with childlike wonder.
Then-her opponent entered.
And the entire stadium fell into stunned silence.
A towering figure stepped into the ring-muscular, broad-shouldered, and radiating an overwhelming sense of power.
His very presence seemed to shake the ground beneath him.
"There's no way he's 13."
The thought struck everyone at the same time.
He looked older.
Too old.
His body was built like a veteran warrior, with arms thick as tree trunks and a chest that belonged to someone twice his age.
Gasps rippled through the audience.
"How is this even fair?"
"How is he even allowed to compete?"
Even the girl tilted her head curiously, eyeing him up and down before giggling softly.
"You're funny,"
she said, flashing a warm, genuine smile.
"You look like you should be my dad, not my opponent!"
The crowd burst into laughter.
But the boy didn't laugh.
He simply rolled his shoulders, flexing his fists, his expression stone-cold.
The referee hesitated before finally raising his hand.
"Next match... BEGIN!"