Let It Roar

*yep, I'm alive. We got this going on. Enjoy. Peace out and Deus vult*

Time seemed to keep moving at a decent pace, perhaps a little more than he'd like. The memories of Samantha were a bit blurry, and yet he hoped for a good ending. No matter what was to come, he still said a whispered prayer for them, since they too fought a battle against their own flesh and instinct, one that was on a different plane than reality. He understood the struggle, perhaps more than his own wishes would seek. 

Luka's defeat when faced with Boothill was resounding, leaving deep scars on the boy, someone around his own age. Being put face-to-face with death for the first time is something rather traumatic, but an experience that makes one grow above the sky. Understanding yourself and the depth of your being is a difficult step towards the light. So, Mark did ponder, and ponder some more. He knew deep down that he was acting childish in a way, even if his decision was justified in the eyes of many. However, he disliked it too, thus harboring an ever worse will against himself. 

With the sound of Boothill's shots still resounding in his mind, ringing constantly in the back of his head, the matches went on, and somehow he had found himself paired up against the cowboy, one last match before the final. 

"Hm, strange. Perhaps my being in here altered the course of events a little. Bah, as if I didn't fuck the plot already to a certain degree. I need to wait for my memories of Fugue to return at the right time." 

Once again, Owlbert's voice rang out in the arena, and Five was to make an appearance once more. With slow, deliberate steps, the two were faced with each other—or more like stood before one another, for Mark's face was hid beneath the covers of the blanket-turned cloak. 

"Everyone, what a show! In the semi-finals for these two, we're witnessing a legendary battle! What is faster, lead or Five? We'll have to find out as the match goes on!" 

Boothill scoffed, bracing himself for the start, giving Five a quick run-down with a few glances, preparing to aim for a weakspot. 

"I'll make sure to cut up some holes in that cloak of yours so you can better breathe, mother fudger. Ain't no one faster than my bullets," scoffed Boothill, squinting his eyes ever so slightly, his fingers twitching with eagerness at the allure of the gun firing once more. 

Five just stood there, unbothered as the wind danced along the fabric of his cover, setting the scene as the public roared all around. The second the signal was given and the gong rang out, Boothill's gun was drawn, firing a few quick consecutive shots. Still, Five wasn't his average target practice dummy. 

The soles of his feet were firmly glued in place as the energy of the Stellarons within coursed through his body, fueling his muscles to the brim. The sight was something barely anyone in the public could follow, except for a few powerful people able to see such things. Boothill tried to reload, pumping out bullets at once, yet Five was already upon him, sending the cowboy outside the ring with a kick to the backside, slinging him up through the air and right on his butt. 

"Son of a nice lady! I'll kill you for that!" 

Mark smiled a tiny bit underneath the hood, listening as the crowd erupted in cheers. He was a powerhouse no one expected to see in the Wardance. 

"There is the answer! Bullets cannot match him! The winner is Five!" 

Mark walked closer to Boothill, who was grinning from ear to ear. 

"You're one tough motherfudger, that's for sure. I'll make sure to get ya next time, got it?" 

Five nodded, reaching out a right hand from an opening in his cloak. The two shook hands, and thus Mark, under his guise, was ready for the final foe, someone he had bested when he was weaker—Yanqing. 

Walking back to the lower levels to wait for the next battle was rough, with whispers all around, yet he was bothered by the images of happy groups celebrating together, singing, and enjoying themselves to no end. It had been a long time since he was able to enjoy something on that level, and his next chance wasn't coming anytime soon. With a heavy heart and ravaging thoughts, he leaned back against a wall, standing alone in the hall as eyes fell on him from all sides, but no one approached. 

Stelle and Luka strode down the hall a few more times, going on with his matches, giving interviews here and there. He had gone on to reach the finals too, and so it was time for them to take on the Luofu representative. For some reason, Five's match had been delayed, and thus Luka went first, taking the hearts of everyone on stage with his display. Mark too was proud of him for overcoming himself. 

"A true man indeed, bracing himself for anything and pushing through. Heh, that's good. Go back home and be happy, Luka. Belobog is in good hands with people like you to defend it." 

It was a loss by the book, but he had won so much more. Experience, growth, a name made for himself and his world. It was a message for the world to see. Still, it was Five's turn to show off and face the young prodigy of the Luofu. It was a familiar game, so he had no reason to worry. His steps were confident as he stepped into the ring after a short break, standing before the young boy. 

The public looked up, watching as someone leapt right to the middle of the ring, standing between them. It was none other than the General of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, the foxian he had fought before, but now she stood before him sane and completely in character. With a loud, somewhat obnoxious voice, she rang out in the whole place, prompting Stelle and Luka to come out and check. 

"I'm sorry, everyone, but for this particular guest, I would like to take a different approach. I wish to face him myself, since I know who is under the hood, right... Mark?" 

With a sigh, Five shook off the persona, reaching out and grabbing the rope that held the cover around him. He didn't toss it aside, but he did take it off and pack it neatly, tying it with the rope. One little habit of his, keeping trinkets from different events and periods of time. 

The man's worn-out appearance was shown to everyone, the torn pieces of his clothing revealing his toned muscles beneath. It was a nice body, but he hadn't reached it the old-fashioned way, so it felt a little off. Hoolay's sword was iced to his back, but not many recognized that weapon specifically. Owlbert shouted over the microphone without thinking much. 

"It's him! I have to call my boss! Wait, is this on?!" 

Mark scoffed, damn near shooting an ice spear at the puppet, but he held back. The IPC was bound to come for him sooner or later, but he didn't care at the moment. He took a glance over his shoulder at the approaching Stelle, who looked both glad that she found him and worried. Mark simply closed his eyes and focused back on the General. 

"Do you think that an all-out battle here in front of the public would be a good call, Feixiao?" 

She smiled, calling forth her waraxe, bracing herself for the battle with a few light stretches, the weapon resting over her shoulder as if it were nothing. Yanqing stepped forward, not really agreeing with this choice, despite the public roaring in extasy. 

"General, is this really a good choice? It's the honor of the Luofu that's on the line. I'm meant to represent it. At the very least, it should be General Jing Yuan who's here." 

She chuckled, glancing up at the boy while she was focused on stretching her legs. 

"Don't worry about that. I discussed with him already. It's just a match, after all. Plus... I have to be honest and say that you have no chance of taking him on." 

Her lips pursed after the words left her mouth, her fox-like stare fixed on Mark's hollow gaze, watching as they didn't even shake in front of her. The ice on his back cracked as he grabbed the oversized sword with a hand, holding it out with ease. 

"Fine, I'll be using this weapon for fairness. I'm sure my own weapon might cause a lot more destruction." 

She smirked at his audacity, standing up while moving her head around. 

"Don't you think you're underestimating me?" 

He scoffed, placing his free hand in his pocket. Stelle lingered around, watching from afar, his earlier reaction having put her in place—he didn't wish to talk to them, at least not yet. 

"I am only stating the truth. My sword might even cut through your own weapon, should I put my mind to it. But who knows? Good steel seems to be able to repel it to an extent. It's about who uses the weapon and infuses it with their energy, not the weapon itself." 

She kept on her casual grin, focusing fully on him as she stood still. The two were just watching one another, sizing the other with pure gazes filled with interest and understanding that the battle ahead was going to be unlike their little battle from before. They were both in peak condition. 

"Now this is a turn of events no one could foresee! What are we waiting for? Let the legendary battle unfold and see history be written. Who is going to win, the rising star Five, whose true identity is that of Mark, a member of the Astral Express, or the foxian General of the Yaoqing, the famous Merlin's Claw? Savior of the Dream, the man who repelled the nightmare in Penacony, versus the Lacking General, who has no rivals? Perhaps we'll witness the birth of her rival in this match." 

Feixiao chuckled as the entire public was in a trance, shouting and chanting, screaming as if they were watching history itself being written. Mark scoffed, unbothered, focused solely on his current opponent. Yanqing just walked away, looking at the two with a resigned look, joining Stelle so they could discuss while the battle could go on. 

"I seriously think we're a hazard in here that might lead to the people being injured," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, unimpressed by anything around him. 

"Is that what you're worried about? If I were you, I'd worry about making it out with the ability to walk," she chuckled, and as the gong rang out, she dashed at him mercilessly, bringing her waraxe in from the side with enough power to toss away people with just the wind pressure. 

Mark's body flared up at once, the energy shooting for a raw 50%, the highest percent that didn't take a toll on his body and could go on for drawn-out battles. He met the blow with Hoolay's sword, the clash monstruous, ringing out with a bang so loud that one could consider it a bomb going off. 

The public was silenced as the current of air reached them, only to roar louder, feeling the thrill of the battle from their own seats. 

"Not bad," smirked Feixiao, staring up into Mark's eyes. She could still see nothing in them—no fear, no excitement—just the robotic need to fulfill a duty. She frowned, hoping that maybe she'd be able to rekindle his thirst for life, something that seemed to be missing. 

She kept swinging, bringing in the war axe from all possible angles, aiming for his chest, head, and limbs, throwing feints, and switching angles at all times. Mark didn't even budge from his spot, meeting all the thunderous strikes with his own might, the weapons forming their own melody that shook the entire Skysplitter. 

"Why won't you take this seriously?" she asked with a grin, the battle giving her a thrill that she could rarely feel in other cases. Foes like Mark were rare, and thus she planned to enjoy their bout to the brim. 

"You're not taking it seriously either," he answered blankly, meeting her blow for blow. Their strikes kept connecting, their arms rattling along with the shock from each blow. 

"Oh, so you ARE holding back. Good, for a second I was worried that I got my hopes up for nothing. In that case, how about I show you a little of what this sly fox is capable of?" 

Her smirk turned borderline psychotic, and Mark could feel it as his heart throbbed the wrong way—she was serious, and it didn't look fine. His body recognized her as the hunter, not the prey. Thus, he matched her, going out with a 52% power surge. 

Meanwhile, the symbol on her back lit up with a strong blue glow, and she swung with what felt like twice the power. Mark's own body pushed forward, the Abundance within himself raging on as well to fix his muscle tissue on the go, the healing factor now faster than ever before. He could feel it in himself, in all his bones and nerves, that one wrong move could end badly. His training in the Simulated Universe was just half of the ordeal, since the feeling of death looming over was missing in there. 

"Come at me with all you have, boy!" 

That shout snapped him back to reality; his eyes focused on the incoming blade that was right in front of his face. In that split second, he decided to try a suicide trick, so he opened his mouth. Feixiao's eyes widened since she calculated the strike perfectly to stop it right in front of him should it go wrong, but she had never believed him to throw himself at the weapon like that. 

His jaw open, he felt the cold metal against his tongue as he shut his jaw shut, the energy from the blow rattling his skull, but he held on to his consciousness. 

"INCREDIBLE! HE STOPPED THE BLOW WITH HIS MOUTH! INCREDIBLE, EVERYBODY!" 

Owlbert's shocked shouts rattled the public even more, getting their adrenaline pumped up as the roars grew louder and hoarse, raging on with the battle. 

"Did you just go for the stupidest move in this context?! Are you insane?!" she asked, shouting at him, worried for a second. Still, Mark's empty gaze met hers, and for a moment she felt a cold chill run down her spine. The blade was clenched so tightly between his jaws that trying to pull it out would only work if she yanked his teeth out. Perhaps she was a beast on the battlefield, but here she was on the same ground as the opponent. 

He didn't let go, instead fueling his arm with a stronger burst as the blunt of his own sword flew at her in a blink, crashing against her side. She managed to block in time, and thus the first blows that connected only did so because they had allowed themselves to be focused on something else. Mark finally let go of the axe, staring at her with a cold gaze as he spoke calmly. 

"I won't lose my focus again. You have my apologies for that. Now, shall I go all out?" 

His body was engulfed by a crimson red fire, which quickly subsided and gathered in his eyes. When he opened them, she looked at her with a pair of crimson irises that glowed an ominous light. 

"If my will can become whatever I want it to, then I'll turn mine into a mental barrier to block off distractions and shut my mind up. That's my will for myself in this moment: to focus purely on the battle."