4 Tidal Clash

Everything went silent. Nothing was heard. A pin could be mistaken for an explosion in the eerie soundlessness. All of the conflict surrounding the two males facing each other was blanked out.

Total elimination of auditory systematics.

Only visuals remained, however they were limited down to the two opposing individuals.

They both darted on the sand, sprinting at angles that would intersect at a fine point in the center of the arena. With each step did the opponents accumulate their thoughts.

In an instant, the figures intercepted each other.

Strikes were thrown, parried, evaded, and repeated. Movements so swift the audience couldn't keep up were executed as the two male contenders stalemated each other.

Exul performed a roundhouse kick, which was blocked by Michael's left arm. As Michael went to snatch his ankle, Exul pulled away, switched pivoting feet, and performed a spin kick with the other leg.

Stunned, it took Michael much of his core strength to withstand the vibrations of the kick that traveled through his right arm when blocked once again. Small shockwaves were emitted around the points of impact, blowing minuscule gusts of sand outwards in tiny rings.

Michael took the offensive, showering Exul in punching attacks, also throwing spontaneous kicks when there was an opening in order to break the teenager's sense of balance. No mercy was given for the young, and no sounds were made from the injured.

All of these attacks were either blocked or evaded by mere millimeters. Following the final blow, during Michael's swift retreat to catch his bearings, Exul immediately closed the gap, giving no time for leeway.

Michael retaliated by kicking up huge waves of sand. Because of the lack of wind, the sand lingered in the air, encompassing Exul completely.

A short gasp escaped his lips as he stumbled slightly. Keeping his eyes mostly closed, the distracting noise of loud men and women in the audience seeped into his ears, along with grains of sand.

*/Playing dirty, huh? Can't say I blame him but that's just cheap./*

A small chuckle emerged from Exul's throat as he realized what sort of predicament he was in, now holding his breath.

"Complaining on a battlefield. Typical teenager."

His thoughts ran aloud.

Out of nowhere, the ever-closing-in sound of airborne grains of sand making way for a moving object pierced Exul's ears and his world was returned to silence.

"Gotcha," he whispered triumphantly, reaching out his fist in an attempt to incapacitate Michael with a destroyed nose.

Too bad this was a dummy.

For the first time in a long while, Exul's heart sank as the measly canteen that was thrown completely fooled him, exposing himself to his opponent absolutely by facing the wrong direction.

His eyes widened and the violet orbs that resided inside constricted, while the creases in his facial expression displayed just how dire his situation was. The approaching mountain that was located directly behind him made of muscle and psychological supremacy sent shivers down the poor teenager's spine. He could almost feel the blow that was about to be given before it was about to even occur.

*/The audience... *helped* him?!

...

No. I won't...

I won't lose... like *this*./*

Exul's thoughts screamed inside of his own head. Behind him, Michael launched his final departure of punches. A fist with stones for knuckles flew straight at Exul's nape... but never made contact.

The teenager was gone.

In the next moment, Michael was propelled through the arena. Gusts of air blew through the stands behind his body as it shot like a torpedo. Before anyone could perceive the figure that just became an organic missile, the said missile made contact with the opposite side of the arena, which was to the far left of the Queen's perspective.

*BOOM!*

The point of impact was replaced with a crater in the wall, as well as a now-unconscious contender who wore blindingly illuminated armor. Unfortunately, the assets to it were completely crushed... against him. Michael lay there, probably rethinking life choices in a daze, looking up at the sky with squinted eyes, while a near-dead competitor remained squashed behind him inside the crater. If anything, the rich boy mildly "cushioned" Michael's "landing".

Not even a second passed before the audience made as much noise as possible. Entire families roared so loud that it was deafening for individuals near the coliseum.

As it turned out, everybody that was exchanging blows while Exul and Michael duked it out was defeated, with a single exception being a coward clad in white armor that was just crushed like a bug by sacrificial artillery.

Michael's head fell and his chin stuck to his collarbone. Sweat soaked into his shirt in every possible crease and wrinkle while a small trickle of blood originating from the scalp explored its way down his nose.

The sand began to disperse and a silhouette remained inside, making its way toward the incapacitated fighter. As the opal-haired combatant emerged from the sandstorm, his eyes were narrowed dangerously and the violet that shined in his eyes glowed like miniature stars.

In other words, he was pissed.

Michael had no strength to move. The muscles that have been so trustworthy up to this point failed him, just like the dirty tricks he used to gain a victory. Disappointment oozed out of the audience for his defeat, Exul, and the especially the Head Chief Warrior, who was disgusted with the tricks he used to gain an advantageous standpoint.

As Exul's shadow loomed over the immobile fighter, the realization of how much time had passed dawned on him. A defeated sigh escaped Michael's lips before a shoe was plunged into his stomach, inducing him to pass out.

No noise was made from the injured contender.

He was officially unconscious.

The fight was over. Nonetheless, it was no battle.

*/Fights can be contained in a battlefield. Battles strike the hearts of the living./*

This saying that was engraved into Exul's personality as a whole was the guideline to his lifestyle. Every conflict was just another step.

Another step to his goal.

Right now, this step required his alias to be renown.

"Alan Clementine IS VICTORIOUS!"

The crowd unleashed the sheer destructive power of their voices, shaking the entire coliseum. The teenager known as "Alan Clementine" was quickly recognized as an underestimated warrior capable of defeating Michael Doreno himself in a one-on-one confrontation.

The Queen, imperial knights, and Royal Guard applauded, except for Emilia, who seemed to be analyzing the extraordinary fighter below in the arena. It wasn't unusual for unexpectedly strong combatants to attend the Annual Battle Royale, so performing some sort of thorough investigation involving his background and affiliations on the boy wasn't really validated. There was always a bigger fish in the sea, and that was illustrated today.

On the other hand, Emilia seemed worried as the young man waved at the audience. Even at an age no older than her, it was impossible to not display some sort of pressure from such a massive body of people.

Exul turned on his heel and walked to where he entered from, his back facing his witnesses. As he stepped out of the coliseum, Emilia briskly walked away, bumping into her advisor's shoulder in the process, making an ungrateful *clank*.

"Where are you going, ma'am? I shall-."

"No, you're fine, Frederick. I'll be on my own."

"But-."

"Don't follow me."

At that, she took off, leaving Frederick with a nervous expression. Quickening her pace, she flew down the stairs and then down the hallway connecting to the exit's passageway perpendicularly. When she arrived she scanned her surroundings, with the massive structure above her and a beautiful wilderness in front of her. Hills sang and small colonies of trees peppered the scenery as cool breezes tickled Emilia's hair.

But, the boy was not to be seen.

"Where could he have gone? Something's not right with him..."

His silhouette and vibrant eyes flashed back into her head sporadically. Distracted, she shook it rigorously before setting her eyes on the horizon.

Somewhere, out there, was a boy, who fought like a warrior, yet seemed to disappear, as if he was not real to begin with.

Almost like a ghost.

Hello guys! I hope you're enjoying this story so far, even a little bit. If you have any critiquing you would like to perform then PLEASE feel free to do so! Meanwhile, don't forget to go check out my buddy's story: Between Two Tides. I personally edited the grammar and writing style of the recent chapter and both of our ideas are quite similar. Go leave him a review as well 👍🙏

Happy reading!

— Clockmaker