Kenny's stomach growled loudly, the sound almost drowning out the roar of the crowd on the TV. He winced, glancing sideways at Marie, who sat beside him, deliberately chewing a slice of cake with her mouth open. She smirked, clearly aiming to taunt him. Cakes didn't growl, after all. But Kenny barely noticed. His eyes were locked on the screen, utterly absorbed by the match about to begin.
"On my left, I give you the man, the myth, the legend… Doctor Serbrus!"
The announcer's voice boomed, sending the crowd into a deafening uproar. Kenny leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the couch.
"This member of the Red Beetles organization entered the competition with only one Beastmere—and yet, he's dominated every match so far! But tonight, he faces his greatest challenge yet: Tristan 'The Mountain' from the Renaissance Trio! The question on everyone's mind is can Serbrus claim tonight's prize, the legendary Skypiercer? Or will Tristan?"
The crowd erupted again, their cheers and shouts spilling from the speakers. Kenny's fingers twitched with excitement. For someone who wasn't usually into fights, he was surprisingly invested in this one.
Marie pointed at the screen, her voice dropping to a whisper. "There it is… Skypiercer."
A massive two-handed sword rose from beneath the arena floor, its blade gleaming under the spotlight. The weapon was a masterpiece—its silver edge razor-sharp, its hilt embedded with glowing, tech infused lights. The crowd's roar intensified, but Kenny barely registered it. His eyes were fixed on the sword, mesmerized.
The announcer's voice cut through the noise once more. "Professor, with your expertise, who are you rooting for? Whoever you pick, that's where I'm putting my money."
An elderly voice, calm and measured, answered. "Ah, this is a fascinating match indeed. Brain versus brawn, strategy versus raw power. First, we have Serbrus, a tactical genius, and with that beastmere of his? He's truly remarkable."
Kenny's gaze shifted to Serbrus, the man in gleaming red armor, his glasses faintly reflecting the arena lights. Beside him stood his Beastmere—a sleek, four-legged creature with colorless fur and obsidian eyes. Four sinuous tails coiled in the air behind it. A single tattoo peeked out from under Serbrus's collar, hinting at his bond with the creature.
The professor continued, "And then there's Tristan. Pure brawn, as they say. That Beastmere of his… well, it's a mountain in every sense of the word."
Kenny's eyes darted to Tristan, the hulking figure in yellow armor. His exposed arms were covered in tattoos, each representing a tamed Beastmere. But it was the creature beside him that commanded attention. It was a monstrous, gorilla like Beastmere with grotesque protrusions jutting from its knees, anchoring it to the ground. It was a living fortress, its sheer size and strength almost incomprehensible.
"I have my suspicions about who'll win," the professor mused, "but I won't spoil the fun."
Kenny rolled his eyes. The old man was probably just as clueless as everyone else, so,
he just played it cool and claimed he didn't want to spoil the fun.
The sword descended back into the arena floor, leaving the two combatants alone in the pitch-black steel enclosure. The bell rang, its chime synchronizing with the clock in Kenny's living room. Midnight.
He jumped up, eager to grab a snack from the kitchen, but Marie yanked him back onto the couch. "You idiot!" she snapped, not even looking at him. "You're seriously going to miss this?"
Kenny groaned. The fight hadn't even started yet. If he hurried, he could eat and watch at the same time. But before he could argue, Serbrus's voice cut through the screen, sharp and deliberate.
"Tristan. Funny meeting you here. I always took you for an… introvert."
The crowd quieted, sensing the tension.
"I had other plans tonight," Serbrus continued, his tone icy. "But since things have turned out this way… I'm sorry, I can't spare you."
Tristan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the arena. "You? Spare me? All those books must be rotting your brain. Do you really think you and that little pet of yours can handle my Beastmere? Ha! It'll crush you to pieces."
Serbrus smiled faintly, stepping behind his creature as if to say, He alone is enough.
"Care to bet on that?" he said, snapping his fingers. "My Beastmere will take yours down in…ughh...one minute."
The air in the arena seemed to solidify. For a heartbeat, there was absolute silence. Then, chaos erupted.
[#!]
One moment Serbrus's creature was standing still, tail dancing in invisible winds, the next? The beastmere lunged forward like a tech missile, It's muscles, taut beneath the colorless fur, released a burst of energy that propelled it forward, straight for Tristan.
The air itself screamed in protest, tearing around its form as it became a silver-and-white blur. There was no roar, no battle cry but only the terrifying, silent efficiency of a predator striking to kill.
Across the arena, Tristan's mountainous Beastmere reacted with earth-shaking power. It wasn't fast, but it didn't need to be. It sank its weight lower, the odd, rocky protrusions on its knees grinding deeper into the arena floor, anchoring it to the very foundation of the structure.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from its chest, a sound of grinding stones and primal fury. It crossed its massive, tree-trunk-like arms in a defensive posture, creating a wall of muscle and hide so dense it seemed to blot out the light behind it. Tristan stood under the muscle of defense smirking.
Then the two forces collided.The moment of impact was not a simple collision; it was a cataclysm of opposing forces.
The blur that was Serbrus's beast didn't aim for a direct, overpowering blow. Instead, it struck the gorilla's crossed arms with pinpoint, scissoring precision. Sparks exploded into the air—not the sparks of fire, but brilliant, blue white flashes of kinetic energy being discharged.
The sound was a horrific shriek of metal on stone, a testament to the incredible density of both creatures. For a second, the smaller beast clung there, a parasite of pure speed attacking a fortress of pure strength, its four coiling tails lashing like energized whips, searching for an opening.
Tristan bellowed through the chaos, his voice thick with arrogant confidence.
"Ha! You see? You'll never get through my defense! Crush it!"
With a wave of his hand, the massive gorilla behind him uncrossed its arms with surprising agility. One arm swung in a devastating, sweeping arc aimed not at the agile creature still recoiling from its attack, but straight for Serbrus's head. The move was brutal and pragmatic—incapacitate the Tamer, and the Beastmere's coordination would falter. The fist, larger than a two men, moved with enough force to pulverize reinforced steel, threatening to smash the doctor into a red smear.
The two fighters' strategies became starkly clear. Tristan relied on overwhelming power, using his beast as both an immovable shield and a devastating siege weapon. Serbrus, however, was playing a different game.
The gorilla's fist didn't even reach halfway towards its target. Before the blow could gain its full momentum, the four-legged creature—having used the initial impact to rebound—whisked past Serbrus in another blinding streak.
It didn't attack the gorilla; it intercepted the attacking arm. It wasn't a block, but a redirection. Using its incredible velocity, it slammed against the gorilla's wrist, a calculated impact that subtly altered the trajectory of the blow. The massive fist sailed past Serbrus, missing him by inches, and instead smashed into the spot where he had stood.
The result was terrifying. The arena floor, made of pitch-black, supposedly indestructible steel, buckled under the force. A spiderweb of cracks radiated outwards from the point of impact, and a deep, groaning sound echoed through the stadium as the entire structure shuddered.
Serbrus hadn't even flinched. He stood calmly, adjusting his glasses as if reviewing data. His creature landed silently beside him, its obsidian eyes fixed on the off-balance gorilla, its four tails weaving complex, hypnotic patterns in the air. The first exchange was over. The mountain had been struck, and it had been tricked into damaging its own foundation.
The commentator's voice rose in excitement.
"What ferocity! What speed and strength! Who's going to claim the sword?"
The professor interjected, his tone firm.
"Do you really think this is about a weapon? For common folk, perhaps. But these two? They're fighting for something far greater."
The announcer paused. "A personal grudge?"
The professor chuckled. "No, no. Don't you get it? This isn't just a match between Serbrus and Tristan. It's a battle between the Red Beetles and the Renaissance Trio. Organizations, ideals, legacies—it's all on the line tonight."
Kenny's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. This wasn't just a fight—it was a war between two well known organizations.
Even though he was now starving, he just couldn't look away.