The laughter came first.
Low at the start, rolling like thunder in a cavern. Then higher, sharper, breaking into jagged bursts that rattled the sand. "Hhhnhhh… hhahhh… HAHAHAHAHAH!" The sound shook the coliseum, echoing not as one voice, but as dozens, layered over one another. Some swore they heard whispers tangled in the echoes—break… break… break…
And then came the haze.
It poured from Draven's body like tar boiling over. Black, thick, pulsing with crimson veins that throbbed in rhythm with his laughter. It surged outward, swallowing torch after torch, plunging the arena into unnatural twilight. The crowd screamed. Some clutched their throats, choking on the pressure. A few in the front rows fainted outright, collapsing into terrified silence.
Only Draven's eyes burned bright—twin embers glowing deep in the abyss.
Orin staggered in the middle of it all, sparks dimming, chest heaving. For a second, his grin faltered.
Then something inside him cracked.
His sparks pulled inward, compressing, condensing so tightly it looked like the storm itself was about to collapse into nothing. Then—
BOOOOM!
The storm burst.
A shockwave tore the ground beneath him, lifting sand and debris like a miniature hurricane. Black-and-blue lightning didn't scatter chaotically anymore. It orbited him, wrapping in arcs around his arms and torso, tethered like rings of fire made of storm. Mini craters lit faintly blue under his feet, static sparking with every breath.
The crowd fell silent. Not one voice dared scream.
Orin stood at the center, grinning wide, eyes shining with reflections of lightning.
"Woooah!" he shouted, staring at his hands as arcs danced across his skin. "I've got a toy tornado around me! This is AWESOME!"
Gasps, confused laughter, and horrified stares rippled through the stands.
Orin stomped a foot. Sparks blasted outward, cracking the stone. He howled in delight: "I feel like… like I'm the lightning king! No—better, I'm the Lightning Breakfast!"
"What does that even mean?!" someone in the stands shouted, half laughing, half crying.
Yullan gripped the railing, eyes wet, voice hoarse. "IDIOT! This isn't a game!"
But Orin just laughed harder, crouching low as sparks whipped around him. "Hey big guy, wanna play tag again? Bet you can't catch me now!"
And then he blurred.
BOOOM! His foot shattered stone, leaving a crater. Sparks streaked behind him, leaving glowing afterimages that looked like dozens of Orins flickering around the arena.
"Zoom zoom—kaboom! Peekaboo! Spark edition!"
He reappeared at Draven's side, swinging a wild punch. Sparks burst—ZZZRRRT!—before slamming into Draven's haze.
The haze swallowed it. Sparks fizzled into nothing, devoured like rain into tar.
Draven tilted his head. "…You're not blurring. You're flailing."
But Orin only laughed, vanishing again. "Missed meee!"
The clash began.
Orin appeared and disappeared in messy bursts, fists and kicks flying with sparks trailing like comets. Every punch cracked the air, every step left the ground scarred.
Draven blocked with ease. A backhand swatted Orin mid-air, a shoulder slammed him into the sand, haze arms sprouted like shadows to snuff out sparks.
Yet every time Orin hit the ground, he bounced back up, grinning, blood streaking his chin. "That tickled!"
Then came the storm of sparks.
Orin swung both arms wide, arcs bursting into whips of lightning. They lashed through the air—ZRAAASH!—leaving glowing trails like falling stars.
Slow motion.
Sparks shattered into fragments, drifting through the dark like pieces of a broken star. Each fragment spun slowly, leaving a thin comet-tail of light. The arena fell silent—crowd, torches, even the air seemed to pause—just sparks, hundreds of tiny meteors, falling against the backdrop of Draven's abyss.
And then the haze moved.
Draven lifted his massive hand, and the haze surged like a tide of shadowed arms. They reached upward, curling, devouring the sparks one by one. Each meteor vanished in silence, snuffed like a candle drowning in oil.
The crowd gasped, terrified awe etched in their faces.
"It's… it's eating the lightning…" someone whispered.
Yullan's hands trembled on the railing, tears spilling as sparks reflected in her eyes. "Orin… you'll disappear too…"
Code's gaze sharpened, his voice low. "…That storm of his… even in chaos, it's beautiful. But if the abyss keeps eating, nothing will remain."
Time snapped back to speed.
BOOOM! Sparks exploded, haze surged, the arena shook.
Orin lunged again, fists flying, sparks orbiting him like a planet storm. Draven stepped into him, haze swirling to smother everything in its path.
Lightning clashed with shadow. Sparks shrieked, haze hissed, stone cracked, and the coliseum trembled beneath the clash of storm and abyss.
Both of them smiled—one with childish joy, the other with predator's hunger.
"Storm or abyss…" Draven rumbled, voice rolling like thunder through tar. His grin twisted wider, crimson eyes blazing. "…let's see which swallows the other."
Orin spat blood, sparks spitting from his grin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glowing wide with childish glee.
"Heh! Let's keep going 'til one of us pops—like candy in the fire! Fizz fizz… BOOM! Or maybe like balloons—SPLAT! I wanna see which one of us bursts first!"
The crowd froze, then erupted in a mix of horrified screams and hysterical laughter.
"Is he comparing this fight to candy?!"
"A balloon?!"
Yullan clutched her hair, face red with fury and fear. "YOU'RE NOT A BALLOON, YOU MORON!"
Code exhaled through his nose, lips tight. "…Only he could make a death match sound like a carnival."