Rider and Zack stood in the center of the vast arena, their gazes locked in a tense, silent stare-down. The air between them crackled with an unspoken challenge, a simmering intensity that promised an explosive confrontation. After a long moment, Rider, his expression unreadable, began to turn and walk away, heading towards the contenders' area.
Just as he took a step, Azreal's voice, amplified by the arena's magic, boomed, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "And now, the winner of the tournament, Zack, the current Sword Master, would face Rider! And if Rider is to win, he would be the new Sword Master! So Zack isn't just fighting to wield the Red Katana, but to also maintain his title! Don't miss it! Thank you for coming, everyone. Their battle would commence in the next ten minutes!"
A collective cheer rose from the crowd, a mix of excitement and anticipation for the upcoming finale. People began to stir, ready to grab refreshments or use the brief intermission. Aingo, his hand on Rider's shoulder, guided him towards the entrance of the contenders' area, planning to use the ten minutes for a final strategy talk or perhaps a quick, calming breath.
But then, a voice, sharp and clear, cut through the dispersing crowd from the very center of the tournament ring. "Waaaaaaait!!!"
In confusion, everyone turned back. There stood Zack, a fierce, almost desperate glint in his eyes. He glared directly at Rider, his voice raw with impatience. "Rider! I can't wait ten more minutes before I get my hands on you! Come here and face me right now!"
A collective gasp rippled through the arena. King Neon, usually a picture of serene composure, stood abruptly from his royal seat in his private chamber overlooking the ring. A deep frown creased his brow as he looked down at Zack. "Are you mad?" King Neon's voice, though calm, held an undeniable edge of authority. "The break is especially for you to get treated. Your body is going to..."
"Shut up!" Zack interrupted, his voice an unhinged snarl that echoed through the stunned silence of the arena. The audacity of his outburst, directed at the King himself, caused a collective intake of breath from the entire stadium.
Immediately, Azreal, his face contorted in outrage, shot to his feet. "Excuse you!" he thundered, his hand going to his own sword. "Respect our King, you–"
But before Azreal could finish, King Neon simply raised a hand, a gesture that was both subtle and absolute. "It's okay," King Neon said, his voice quiet but firm, halting Azreal's furious retort. With that, King Neon turned his gaze from Zack to Rider, who was still standing near the entrance to the contenders' area. His voice, now laced with a rare blend of concern and diplomacy, carried across the arena. "If it's okay with you too, then would you mind dueling with Zack now? I would understand if your answer is no."
Rider remained quiet, his gaze fixed on Zack, his mind working furiously. The opportunity was immense, a chance to face a wounded opponent and claim the Red Katana without a prolonged, grueling battle. But the thought felt... wrong.
From beside Rider, Valen spoke up, reflecting the sentiment of many. "I mean, if it were me, I wouldn't. My opponent is not at one hundred percent, so I refuse to take the fight." His words were logical, strategic.
But Rebel, ever the contrarian, scoffed, his usual frown deepening. "Screw you, Valen! Zack is literally begging for this! I don't know about you, but I'd gladly put him six feet under if it was me. I also have a score to settle with that bastard!". Aingo, who had been listening intently, finally joined in, his voice softer than usual, tinged with a philosophical undertone. "Even I can't tell which one he would pick, Rider. I mean, this would be the greatest opportunity he would have to wield the Red Katana. But on the other hand, fighting Zack, who just came out of several wars with no time to rest, is somewhat cowardly. So I..." Aingo trailed off, leaving the decision squarely on Rider's shoulders.
The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of the moment pressing down on Rider. He looked from Zack's defiant, impatient stance to King Neon's expectant gaze, then to Aingo's thoughtful expression, and finally to his friends, their varied opinions clear on their faces. He thought of Bianca, lying injured, her unwavering faith in him. He thought of Dran, of his own dream to master the sword. And he thought of Zack's audacious challenge, a direct affront to his own honor.
Finally, Rider's voice, clear and strong, cut through the tension. "If he wants to duel it out now," Rider declared, his eyes locking onto Zack's, "then I'll gladly duel."
A collective gasp swept through the arena once more, quickly followed by a growing roar of excitement. Rider, without another word, stepped forward, entering the tournament ring, his posture resolute. Aingo's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing. (No way... is this really happening?)
Rider stood directly across from Zack, his voice ringing with a newfound confidence. "I'm going to fight you, Zack," he proclaimed, his gaze unwavering. "Anywhere, anytime, any place. Whether injured or not. As long as you want our duel to be now, I'll gladly give you a duel."
Zack's smirk widened, a glint of cruel satisfaction in his eyes. The tension was palpable. The crowd, realizing the final match was about to begin prematurely, immediately rushed back to their seats, not wanting to miss a single minute of what promised to be an legendary, spontaneous battle. King Neon, from his royal chamber, gave a subtle nod to Azreal.
Azreal, letting out a soft sigh that was more resignation than relief, waved his hand. With that silent command, a team of robed attendants carefully carried a magnificent, intricately designed display case onto the battlefield. Inside, resting on a velvet cushion, lay the legendary Red Katana, its blade glowing with a faint, crimson light, radiating an aura of ancient power. Rider and Zack's eyes were instantly locked on it, the ultimate prize now within their grasp.
Suddenly, Bell's voice, raw and thundering, sliced through the air from the pavilion, carrying his fervent conviction to every corner of the arena. "THIS IS THE MOMENT WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR! NOW, ZACK! WIIIIN!!!!"
With that fervent declaration, Zack dropped into his fighting stance, his twin katanas glinting ominously in the arena lights, ready to unleash their fury. Rider, in stark contrast, quietly drew his own katana, the polished steel reflecting his calm, determined gaze.
"You talked a big game, son of Dran," Zack sneered, his voice laced with venom. "Now show me what you can do."
And with that challenge, Zack charged. Without a word, Rider charged back, his own determination a fierce fire in his eyes. Their katanas met with a deafening CLANG in the center of the tournament ring, a single, explosive sound that signaled the beginning of their final, epic confrontation. Every eye in the vast arena was fixed on them, two warriors, two legacies, locked in a battle for supremacy and destiny.