At this time, the announcer was introducing the Valley Tournament's next set of fighters for the second round of the second stage, "These next contenders have yet to make an appearance in the ring, so we will be presenting them accordingly! After winning their battles in our secret tournament, they will be making an appearance before you now!"
The cheers in the colosseum were deafening. It had seemed they had immediately wanted the next match. So, the announcer complied and went on as he introduced the next contenders, "In your first corner, we have a boulder of a man. His massive stature has earned him names such as 'The Wall of the Valley' and 'The Desert's Titan'. He is a man who stands at a staggering nine-foot-five!" He is by far the tallest and largest contestant in the Tournament!"
As the announcer introduced him, he walked the hallways, almost meeting the walls and ceiling with a collision with one of his massive arms and even his head. The clothes he sported resembled those of a gladiator as they clanged with each step he took. They were an earthtone color with a bronze finish. His black hair was long and dreaded, ending at his shoulders, which were thick and cut like large boulders. His skin was a golden brown as they revealed in and out of the torches he passed by. And two giant axes stuck out from his back.
One could hear his giant footsteps from within the halls as the announcers went on. "Please help me introduce the Head of the Desert Guard…" Within the audience were some citizens from both the Forest and the Desert. Much like how the Forest had eagerly cheered on Polaris and Cecillia from the earlier matches, the Desert citizens had all roared at the sight of this man emerging from the shadows. "Rok!!" the announcer shouted, matching the roar of the audience.
As the giant had made his entrance, Nash was on the other side, within the shadows of the hallways he waited in, smirking to himself and flexing his well-earned muscles as he got fired up at his introduction.
"And in your next corner, we have a stunning male dedicated to the art of fitness!" As the announcer said this, many of the audience's women crooned at the mere mention. "He is well known in the Valley for his influence in the fitness community and his presence on social media!"
From the Black Wolves section, Havoc burst out laughing, spilling his fifth order of popcorn all over himself and Code at that mention.
"Some of you may even refer to him as 'Iron Nash'! But he is not just recognized in the Valley for his positive contributions… he has also risen in the ranks of the Black Wolves as one of their Aces! So please help me welcome 'The Tank of the Black Wolves', 2nd Ace of the Black Wolf Knights… Nash!!"
When the announcer finished his intro, Nash shot out from the halls, and his silhouette eclipsed the sun. He posed in the air in a front archer pose, his left bicep flexed behind, and his other arm shot straight out, reaching—right leg past the left like he had run and then leaped in the air. His shadow overlapped anyone who witnessed him there. And Rok just looked at him blandly all the while.
When Nash landed onto the ring before him, he flexed again into a different pose—a side chest pose, and then into a side tricep pose afterward. He wore his usual sleeveless Black Wolves jacket—a gilet much like Havoc's, only a skintight white tank underneath that revealed his toned core—black pants, and boots to finish, and those thick, gunmetal, broken cuff and chains on his wrists that seemed to reflect no light.
His yellow-orange hair was sleek, fixed, and combed back. And his light blue eyes glinted with each pose he made, along with the small diamond earrings he chose to wear on both lobes today.
His fans went wild at the sight of him.
I couldn't help but snicker as he did, wiping my nose all the while from where I watched in the Warriors' Keep.
"Whoa! Now that's how you make an entrance, folks!" the announcer said. "And as promised, the ring is back in order. We will now roll for the battlefield!"
Right then, the dice appeared again onto the ring, taking no time at all to roll and present to them what the environment would be.
When the face landed for all to see, it was presented on the screens.
"And it looks like face four! The Dunes!"
The crowd cheered once more, and as they did, they started chanting Rok's name over and over like the match had already been over.
"It seems we have a field advantage for Rok! Will Nash be able to hold out in this fight!?" the announcer commented.
The arena, then, began to change into a desert. Nash still posed all the while, ignoring the chanting from the crowd of his opponent's name and morphing terrain.
When the arena had become the Dunes, the announcer commenced the match, "Now, let the second match of the second round for the Valley Tournament BEGIN!"
As the crowds' cheering died down, the howls of the Dunes became clearer. Neither of the contenders moved from their positions. Nash remained flexing in place, going from pose to pose as he stood there.
"I see you crave the attention of the people. And yet they cheer my name." Rok said, his voice rumbled the sands.
Nash had stopped posing at this time and remained flexed in an abdominal and thigh pose, looking directly at Rok. He hadn't said a word.
"You mistake me for someone else," Nash said stoically like his mood had instantly changed.
"Am I not fighting Nash of the Black Wolves?" Rok asked.
"That is my name and that is my Guild, but the person you are referring to is not I," Nash replied.
Rok raised a brow to him, "You seem to be a complicated fellow."
"Not at all." Nash said, "What I am referring to is the type of man you think I am versus the man I actually am,"—he relaxed his muscles at last and lowered his arms—"I do this, not for the attention of the people… I do it for myself."
"Really now?"
Nash focused his glare upon Rok, his eyes studying as his large opponent overshadowed him completely, even from where he stood.
"Yeah," Nash said. "When I know the opponent will be a challenge, I hype myself up like a real man."
At this time, Rok's eyes flashed a gleam in his brown eyes. He whipped his massive arms to the side and said, "Then, let us not delay, Tank of the Black Wolves! Show me your strength!"
Nash readied his stance, and they both dashed at each other. The push from their feet into the sand absorbed most of the force, but a small earthquake was still emitted, causing the audience to stagger from every part of the colosseum.
"My…" Daz said, "I could only imagine what would have happened had the field not been sand!" joking as he staggered in his seat from high above.
The announcer nervously laughed and then focused back on the match.
When the two titans clashed, Rok met Nash with a heavy right hook, to which Nash responded in kind with a hook of his own. When Nash's strike connected, Rok's arm shattered into sand.
His arm disappeared, and the audience cheered, already knowing.
Nash's eyes widened as Rok's massive body moved past him now. Then, from behind Rok's shattered arm reformed and back-fisted Nash from behind.
Hit with so much force, Nash flew into the barrier to the nearest crowd there. They winced as he landed, looking like he had broken some bones.
"L—Lord Daz, was that legal? That was a devastating hit!" the announcer whipped his head to say.
Daz merely smiled and said, "My friend, do you not know the Black Wolves yet after their first two matches?" His eyes glinted. "He's their 2nd Ace… he is not called the 'Tank' for no reason…"
Back in the ring, Nash flopped onto the sand after hitting the barrier and rippling it from impact.
The audience chattered amongst themselves, wondering if he was alright after that strike from a giant such as Rok.
"Shit…"
"Is he, uh…"
"Dead?"
"Fuck, man…"
A group said near a section where the rest of the Black Wolves were sitting. When Star heard them, she shouted to Nash, who seemed lifeless in the ring.
"STAND UP, YOU IDIOT! THAT WAS PATHETIC!"
They looked at her with judgmental eyes, and Code was visibly irritated by the attention all the while.
It was at that time that they all heard a voice from the ring: "Okay, okay! Damn woman…"
The audience was shocked when they heard the voice, and it belonged to none other than Nash himself.
Reforming his broken bones and standing back up, he snapped his limbs back in place, ending with a simple neck crack at the end as he stood there seemingly unfazed.
"Eight left." He said to himself.
Rok smirked and replied, "I see. So that's how it works."
The crowd was in utter shock at the sight of Nash standing back up and reforming himself. His bones made cracking noises like they were putting themselves back in place, and he was once again in his pristine state. He then cracked his neck with his fist like it had been some kind of warm-up.
Even his fans had no idea that was what he could truly do.
"What kind of magic ability was that?"
"He just put himself back together like it was nothing!"
"Are we witnessing what the true Iron Nash can do!?"
They erupted.
Nash bolted again toward Rok. And instead of throwing another punch back, Rok crossed his arms to block.
As Nash arrived, he quickly jumped, flipping behind Rok, where he was wide open. He reeled back his fist and flexed, throwing a heavy punch into Rok's back. But when the impact was made a hole opened in Rok's center—the shockwave forcing it open.
"Futile, little wolf." His deep voice rang in Nash's ears intimidatingly.
Immediately after the impact, Rok turned into sand and disintegrated into the dunes they stood on.
Nash whipped his head around to find him, but before he could, a sand whip emerged from his blind spot and wrapped around his wrist—then another, and then another until all his limbs were bound completely.
Another whip shot toward him from the front and wrapped around his neck.
Right then, the sand below him began to sink, and he was going down with it.
Nash snickered as he sank into the sand, bound in place. His muscles relaxed, remaining as he was, letting the sand take him.
"Is this the end for you, Tank? Have you accepted defeat?" Rok's large voice rang ethereally to him.
Nash said nothing and bore a smile instead as his body sank deeper and ever deeper into the dunes.
The audience's eyes were locked, waiting for him to break free somehow… but still he remained, until he was completely submerged below.
There was nothing left except the Dunes.
Rok then reformed back from the sand feet away as he watched carefully. Something was not right… They would not declare him the winner at this time, even though the sand was telling him that he was still there, crushed under the dunes…
But too quick for him to follow, his senses had lost Nash from below.
Where did he go? Rok seemed to think as his eyes darted every which way.
Then, from directly below, something had blasted out from the sand underneath him, and like in slow motion, he witnessed a fist going right for his jaw.
Nash's fist had made impact. Rok, the massive giant, flew back from the strike, leaving Nash poised in the air with an arm and fist shot up like he had jumped for victory out from the crushing sand itself.
"Seven left," he said under his breath.
From the audience, Code commented, "Smart move, Nash."
"How so? He could have easily broken free of those sand binds the minute it happened," Havoc asked.
"This is why he is an Ace, and you are a mere member, Havoc." Code jabbed as Havoc's forehead tightened and he ground his teeth in response. Code went on, "He allowed the opponent to stack up on his attacks so that when he used one of his Lives, it all counted as one instead of multiple. He has a broken ability, but even it has its limits. Stocking up on moves the opponent uses and then using a Life is the best approach, especially in this Tournament."
"Yeah, yeah. Good shit though!" Havoc responded. "Bet Ophelia agrees… two muscled men on the field and all." He joked.
"Ew, not at all. Not my type. Neither of them." She replied.
"Really? Did I get your type in guys all wrong? Thought you liked them tone and muscular?"
"That could be a factor… but no, I like my men a bit… badder."
"Ah… like the Cap," Havoc said nonchalantly.
"Pipe down, would ya, Furry Freak? Not in front of the princess! Besides, that's in the past. I was just a plaything, and he was mine!" Ophelia whined.
"FURRY FREAK!? What the hell you mean by tha—"
"Ooo, looks like Nashy's opponent's not out just yet. That was a good punch but seems he's gonna need to do more to win this one…"
"Don't ignore me, you one-eyed bitch!"
"LOOK WHO'S TALKING, YOU BLIND BASTARD!"
Belle had overheard her comment but let go of the thought shortly after. Alice couldn't help but observe her sister's pouty behavior all the while.
Back in the ring, Rok had been lying down on the field with what seemed like a busted jaw. Nash adjusted himself for more, not letting his guard down. He knew that wasn't going to be enough to do him in, not this giant.
Right then, Rok submerged his whole body into the sand and burrowed all the way to where Nash was. When he appeared before him, he raised a hand to his jaw, grabbed it and locked it back in place; sand flicking as he did, like he was made of sand itself.
"Nice punch. And nice strategy. I knew something was off, but you played that out beautifully."
"Likewise. Your Sand ability is nothing to pass up either!" Nash responded. His opponent was in front of him now so casually.
Right then, the two men locked each other's forearms and shook in agreement. The announcer commented on their camaraderie, "Would you look at that, folks? That's what I call fantastic sportsmanship! Only the Valley produces men like this!"
"Let's give the audience a good show, shall we, brother?" Nash said.
"Aye, but know this…" Rok released his arm from Nash, and the two separated, hopping far and away from each other like that was their own signal to fight once more. "Every other move from here on will be with all I have. You best do the same!"
"Aye. I swear on it, like a real man!" Nash shouted with a wicked smile on his face. And as he did, Rok made a hand sign and chanted,
"Sand Creation Magic: Red Sand Sea!"
As he chanted his powerful spell, Rok split The Dunes—the arena in half. The once-sandy plains had turned into two massive walls that shrouded parts of the barrier and even the audience's view.
Immediately, Nash had lost his balance. Below him now, a deep and dark void where the sand had once been awaited to swallow him whole.
His instincts kicked in, and he propelled himself upward with nothing but the force of his legs and the air below him—the massive sand walls following as he did.
From where Nash had flown upward, the sand flew past and above him, becoming the sky. Rok then made another hand sign and chanted, "Rain."
And once the words had been uttered, the sand sky fell, and clumps of sand meteors roared down onto Nash.
His eyes flickered at the sight of it; the golden sand glittered in the sun's rays all around him, and he protected himself the best he could from the barrage. Hit after hit were devastating blows as he tried to withhold the blast so as to use only one Life, but the rain of sand was endless. Cuts and gashes decorated him, and though he endured, he did not know when it would end.
I have to use another… damn it, he thought as he let himself fall. Above him, golden skies, and below a dark void. Which would be worth the Life?
Choose. He thought to himself once more.
He fell into the dark void, and the barrage of sand meteors followed him into it. At that point, Rok released his hand sign and spread his arms wide. Once they were apart, he slammed them together, palms flat against each other, and the Sand Sea collapsed onto the dark void Nash had fallen into.
The sound echoed, and the colosseum shook. Everyone had staggered from the impact of the Rok's Sand Sea.
But just as everyone had thought he was done, Rok swayed his hands and the sand where he had trapped Nash whooshed like a wave, he did over and over as if stirring a massive pot until he had found Nash within it, the large clock behind Nash gonging as Rok made another move. "I won't let you stock like you did last time." He said.
Shit, I thought it was done! Nash thought as he had just recovered. Six left… I can't afford to use up more…
As Rok controlled the sands like water, creating waves from the field itself, Alice asked Belle a question from the bleachers, "Hey, sis, this guy's from the Desert Kingdom, right?"
"Yes, why?" Belle responded.
"Why didn't you recruit him into the Golden Rose Knights? His Sand ability is insane."
"I agree," Belle replied. "Well, to be frank, I did. And he declined."
"Really? He turned down the Valley's number one Guild?" Alice asked.
"He did not want to serve under a newbie."
"That's the reason?"
"I took no offense. He serves well as the Desert Guard and serves the Valley as a whole. He is deserving of his title and even more as a leader. He does not submit to anyone unless he sees them as worthy." Belle ended.
Nash surfed on the sand waves as they endlessly shifted and crashed, not allowing him smooth footing.
"You adapt to each spell—each and every strike infused with mana, meaning so long as my attacks are different each time, and threaten you, you are forced to adapt to it. My sand creations are endless; I can even become sand itself. I am the worst match-up for your ability, rare as it may be. If only you could adapt endlessly, the battle would be forever in your favor, but here against me… You will use up all your Lives," Rok said hauntingly.
Nash jumped from one wave to the other, continuously trying to force through and make it to Rok, but each time he was met with a wall of sand that blocked his path.
"I respect you as a man; your attitude is admirable. But as a leader of men, I cannot see you advancing further than me. Now fall, Black Wolf!"
Right then, a sand whip found Nash's ankle. He thought he'd break from it, but it was a thicker strand. Shit, he's right… Nash thought, I can adapt to as many of his attacks as I can, but he will always strike me differently regardless of what I do. And I only have so many Lives left… this is bad…
The sand whip threw him against a sand wave, and it swallowed him whole. Rok remained where he was all the while, biding his time with each move more powerful and different than the next.
***
Back in the Warriors' Keep, my eyes were glued to the screen. I watched as Nash struggled to even find his footing, constantly getting whipped around like a ragdoll within the Dunes.
The footage angle had been just right when I witnessed him crash into a wall and sit within the crater of it. His once fixed yellow-orange hair had now fallen over his face. The sand etched in each follicle. Shadows formed over his eyes.
Come on, Nash… Don't lose here… Not like this.