Raging Torrents of Boundless Rains

"Ketsu! Ketsu!" The group called on their distant Captain.

"Y-Yes?"

"We're going to check on Tersia in the Medical Ward." Vaceris walked off with Erai aiding her.

"We'll join them too, but we'll try to make it back for the final fight." Torren informed them while he made off with Sergei in tow.

Stephen had been looking upon the wreckage before deciding to join them...only to be stopped by Ketsu.

Stephen would have dismissed his sudden desire for mild chatter if it wasn't for the fierce grip Ketsu had on him, noticing the even fiercer look in his eye, he chose to hear him out. The pair went to the cafeteria as Stephen lent his ear.

With the repairs of the Arena made and the injured moved to receive treatment, the next battle was said to continue.

After arriving to check on Tersia, they chose to stay and watch the coming battle together, despite her protest, making for an odd exchange as Iris was resting in the same Medical Ward, before leaving with no more than bandaged scrapes and the ire of Tersia's classmates.

Returning to her group still seated on the stands, she found herself greeted by a shower of praise from Dusk, having her expression turn with a touch of relief despite how much she tried to disguise it. Joining them left a sour taste in Khrysos's mouth but Seleste was sure to prevent him from spewing any venom at her victor.

Now grinning absurdly, Seleste turned her championing praise to his next combatant:

"Make sure to follow up on Iris' act and this fight will be ours, Dirge." Taking the rising figure's nod as a sign of his capacity.

"Men of few words tend to speak more with their actions." Singing even more praise as he descended the stands, he leapt over the railing, landing with a heavy crash into the Arena.

Finding the referee already present, Dirge moved to stand alongside Ms. Yuria before she called out his opponent. From the darkened hall of the gates, he wandered out. 

"Stephen Markholdz. You will be facing Dirge Agnostra in this battle."

After entering the stage to the sound of unbridled bullying from the crowd, Stephen marched on until he reached Ms. Yuria and his opponent. Reminding the pair of the rules, both agreed to respect each other and her before she retreated from the Arena.

"The third battle between Dirge Agnostra of Class 1C and Stephen Markholdz of Class 1F will now— Begin!"

Cheers and rousing chants of support rained down from the stands, with the spectators anticipating an even greater struggle than that which came before and wishing for the new fighters to continue the streak of incredible displays.

So shocking were the previous fights that the stands were rumbling with the roars from the arrival of even more viewers than before, while some of the freshmen seated themselves beside their upperclassmen and teachers alike in increasingly cramped fashion

Though amongst the rousing chants, low groans of dismay and disapproval were included, aimed at a particular combatant. The same cry spread around the arena to hail the warrior as the "Noble Traitor-Noble Traitor. Noble Traitor-Noble Traitor. Noble Traitor-Noble Traitor."

"It seems word of your desertion has gotten around. Haha, no doubt the weak are exercising their thoughts through gossip. Though you cannot fight their gossip when there are many of them." Dirge pressed Stephen with a disgruntled look.

"...."

"I see, guess we can both appreciate the value of silence–"

"Stop wasting my time."

"...Alright then, Stephen Markholdz, come and face me." Bringing a chilling silence to the dissenting crowd and actually managing to arouse a smirk to Dirge's face.

"Lament: Forgotten Epitaph."

Dirge's words eroded the dirt in front of him in a blackened patch that he reached into...digging his hand into the black sands and drawing out a clothed scythe, covering the darkened blade with reddish tatters, the full breadth of the weapon was on full display as he flared it about.

Stephen seemed to kneel at the sight of his opponent's display, causing murmurs of surrender to come from the crowd, but Dirge standing in front of him found his actions even more confusing.

With the sounds of possible surrender filling his ears, he could only pity his opponent who seemed to just be scratching at the dirt. Once he finished the shallow pit, he dusted himself off, before returning to his feet, meeting eyes with the eager Dirge.

"I have to say, I didn't think you'd let me go about my business in peace." Stephen spoke up.

"...I am not really sure what it was you were doing, but the fact that you have not revealed your weapon lead me to believe you were to surrender"

"Tch! You can forget it, I've got a debt that needs to be paid." Stephen shot back with visible annoyance.

"Alright then, so be it." Dirge, growing quite tired of his opponent, called on his power.

Once again flaring his scythe about, unwrapping the loose cloth and revealing the holes and grooves carved into the weapon's blade began creating a fiendish wail.

A sound akin to muffled screams leaked out of the blade while an ominous aura filled the Arena, akin to smoke given life, it moved and spread about. Soon even viewing the battle from above was challenging as the shadowy cloak obscured the two of them in its grasp.

"Forgotten Epitaph: Midnight Harvest." Whispering the words as if blowing a sense of will into the shadowy veil, as an umbral mist began to emulate the wails of his SoulArm, screeching around and past Stephen, with a chilling sensation brushing against him each time the wails grew close.

Stephen noted the sensation of the wails, moving away each time he felt the sensation draw closer. Every step he took to avoid the cries, brought on more twisted cries in a charge towards him.

Pretty quickly, he was left with little chance to catch his breath that the disembodied specters were pushing him to move all around the Arena. Even though his bursts of speed were short, they were necessary when moving with little help from his sight.

As if he could feel him moving through the mist, Dirge chased after him. Working to cut off his escape each time the wails drew him out and put him into a corner, Stephen was forced to breach the veil of darkness to escape, only for the mist to stretch outwards, pulling him back and smashing him into the ground.

The impact surged through the Arena floor, catching the attention of those in the stands.

"Hmph. That moody freak is actually making me proud." Seleste voiced her praise with chilling glee as the darkening mist continued to spread.

"Noo, this...this is wrong." Dusk murmured to herself with her gaze flickering about the few visible pockets in the mist.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Their Captain's cheers were cut short.

Just as she did, a spiral of darkness formed in the center of the Arena, with the umbral mist wrapping around it and growing into a towering column that cast a shadow over everything.

The pillar of shadows quickly fell away as an unseen spring burst out of its center and rained down a constant stream. Weathering away the mist to only a part of the Arena, Stephen was once again seen under the shower, kneeling with but a single hand resting on the ground.

As the darkness thinned around him, Stephen got back to his feet, with the sensation of the cool rain reminding him of a time before the battle.

"We won't be able to win the next fight, the way I see it." Ketsu was blunt in his delivery as he sat by one of the tables in the cafeteria.

"What? Are you asking me to forfeit, after everything that has already happened...I don't think they will forgive me this time. This isn't something I can do, not even if it's for you."

"Oh, is that right? Have you come to value them so much? Dare I say, am I witnessing the infamous 'Markholdz' family devotion?" He teased as they received their order.

"No...I simply see no benefit in gaining their resentment."

"Well, I can see you're as headstrong as usual. But you can rest easy, I won't be asking you to forfeit, however it's as I've said, we won't be able to win this not the way I see things. So tell me what are you going to do?"

"You...you didn't, was all of this–"

"They spent their time forging a plan around our strengths, I spent my time forging a strategy around what my class could do. It's why I didn't hesitate in letting them know who would be fighting, or letting them choose what order they would fight, I knew in the end, there would be a chance it comes to this."

'Hmph, come to this he says.' Stephen thought to himself before turning his focus to Dirge emerging from the veil of the shadowy mist.

"Water Magic is it? Well, don't think this will be enough to stop me." Dirge mocked him while he stepped forward. Joining him were the source of the wails, bearing blades to honor their master with a bloody harvest, the specters, surrounding themselves in the embrace of the darkened mist as they charged to finish off Stephen.

"I've already told you."

You're In My Way!" Now standing with his hands firmly in his pocket, the shower of rain surrounded him, rising from the spring and crashing around him in a violent and gathering maelstrom of water which stood raged against the Midnight Harvesters, baring their assault.

Neither darkened mist nor the Harvesters could get close enough as contact with the shower resulted in them either being sucked in by the currents or torn to shreds as they attempted to swing against the stream.

Faster and faster would the currents rush about him, the whirlpool's size suddenly expanding, filling more and more the Arena with torrential waters that swirled about faster and faster, the higher and further they flowed.

When the emergent sphere of water suddenly collapsed, vast levels of water came crashing down, leaving Stephen in full view as some of the summoned water surrounded him in a swirling dome, as Dirge waded through the currents alongside the Harvesters to strike at his lowered guard.

Trying to temper himself before striking true, an opening in the dome was produced...large enough for Stephen to thrust his hand out of the swirling mass of water, before guiding the stream around his forearm before releasing a pressurized jet, shooting out into the darkened veil towards Dirge.

With mere seconds to react, he managed to raise his scythe in defense, the clash of the stream diverted the blast while Dirge and was driven clear out of the mist and crashed into the unoccupied stands, carving a trail along the way, ending where he had cratered.

Retreating behind the swirling dome, while the vapor of his blast overtook the darkened mist, quickly clearing the rest of the Arena with the only sight granted to everyone to see was Stephen awaiting his opponent in the heart of the oceanic dome.

Soaked and gasping for air, Dirge sat unaware as the remaining moments of his conscious flickered about, only gathering the sight of being knocked out of the Arena before a heavy feeling overtook his eyes:

"Th-the winner is Stephen Markholdz of Class 1F."

Delivering the verdict with a tone lacking any sort of expression as Ms. Yuria moved past the silenced masses to land in the Arena, requesting Medical Aid while everyone kept their sights on Stephen, neither cheering nor cussing.

Simply just in awe.

"I do not understand. It cannot be the same Stephen Markholdz! The information I had made no mention of any of this." Dusk spoke without noticing her words or her tone...while her class looked on at their defeated companion.

"Dusk, there's nothing we can do about it now, we just need to focus." Iris rested her hand on her, before getting up and heading down the stairs.

Stephen sights followed her through the stands, expecting her appearance next, he let down the whirlpool-dome in preparation.

After the Medical staff carried Dirge off to the Medical Ward, Iris was once again facing Class 1F, as Stephen took notice of her arrival, they were both rearing for things to begin, that even Ms. Yuria could sense the battle had already started.

So she moved out of the Arena and called for the start of the battle. The crowd's cheers for the last battle with their returning fighter brought the stands to a frenzy.

"I kind of get why those brown nosing nobles from 1A were so willing to take him, when he gets serious he's a little frightening." Torren commented on Stephen's unmoving stance while viewing the battle from the Medical Ward.

"Honestly, if he was always this serious, I wouldn't have to always be at his throat." Vaceris said, hiding her look of relief.

"It seems like he wasn't messing around when he told us that he was going to win." Tersia teased.

"Well...yeah, hmph. He had better win, or he's going to get it from the both of us." The two of them shared a menacing grin, unsettling Torren and Erai that they opted to go and get some snacks before the next battle had begun.