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 are ready to stand before you now, eager to show you what they're made of!"
The cheers in the colosseum were deafening as the crowd demanded the next match.
The announcer complied to their request, introducing 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 an incredible nine-foot-five—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 simple collision from his massive frame.
The clothes he sported resembled those of a gladiator, clanging with each step he took. They were an earth-toned color with a bronze finish that gleamed dimly—nearly matte. His black hair was long and dreadlocked, ending at his shoulders, which were thick and cut like large boulders. His skin was a golden brown, flickering in and out of the torchlight. And he had two giant axes slung and sticking out from his back.
One could hear his giant footsteps from within the halls as the announcer 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 bellow of the audience.
The giant had made his entrance, and Nash was on the other side, within the shadows of the hallways, waiting, smirking to himself as he flexed his well-earned muscles; he had gotten fired up from 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 cooed 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 part.
"Some of you may even refer to him as 'IronNash'! But he is not just recognized in the Valley for his positive social 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, leaping into the air as his silhouette eclipsed the sun. He postured, looking as if he were one with the sky, left bicep flexed behind, and right arm shot straight out—reaching. His right leg passed the left like he had been running prior to his leap; his front archer pose positioned, and his shadow shrouded anyone who witnessed him there.
Rok just watched 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—mostly the women—went wild at the sight of him.
Greed couldn't help but snicker at his entrance, wiping his nose proudly from where he watched in the Warriors' Keep.
"Whoa! Now that's how you make an entrance, folks!" the announcer commented. "And as promised, the ring is back in order. We will now roll for the battlefield!"
The dice appeared onto the ring, taking no time at all to roll and present to everyone 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 vigorously once more, and as they did, they started chanting Rok's name over and over like the match had already been won.
"It seems we have a field advantage for Rok! Will Nash be able to hold out in this fight!?" the announcer remarked.
The arena, then, began to change into a desert. Nash still posed all the while, ignoring the chanting of his opponent's name and the morphing terrain as the sand had slightly sunk his boots into it.
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!"
The crowd's cheering died down, and the howls of the Dunes became clearer. Neither of the contenders moved from their positions. Nash remained flexing in place, still going from pose to pose.
"I see you crave the attention of the people. And yet they cheer my name," Rok said, voice rumbling the sands.
Nash stopped posing then, remaining in a flexed abdominal and thigh pose, looking directly at Rok. "You mistake me for someone else," he replied stoically, mood instantly changed.
"Am I not fighting Nash of the Black Wolves?" Rok questioned.
"That's my name, and that's my Guild, but the person you are referring to is not I," Nash said.
Rok raised a brow. "You seem to be a complicated fellow."
"Not at all," Nash went on. "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, eyes studying his large opponent who overshadowed him completely, even from where he stood yards across.
"Yeah," Nash said. "And when the odds pile up against me, that hypes me up even more. You and this whole crowd could be against me all you want. You are all wrong!"
Rok's eyes flashed a gleam in his brown eyes. And then Nash concluded, "That's the type of man I am—a real man!"
Rok then whipped his massive arms to the side, flexing his palms as he called out to him, "Then, let us not delay, Tank of the Black Wolves! Show me your strength!"
Nash readied his stance, and they dashed toward each other. The push from their feet into the sand absorbed most of the force, but a small earthquake still emitted, causing the audience to stagger from every part of the colosseum.
"My…" said Daz. "I could only imagine what would have happened had the field not been force absorbing!" Even 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; the audience cheered, already knowing…
Nash's eyes widened as Rok's massive body maneuvered behind him. Then from behind, Rok's shattered arm reformed instantly and back-fisted Nash on the side of his face.
He was hit with so much force, he flew into the barrier just before the nearest row. And they winced as he landed, looking like he had broken some bones.
"S—Sir Daz, was that legal? That was a devastating hit!" the announcer said to Daz only, whipping his head to him.
Daz merely smiled. "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, still rippling from the impact.
The audience mumbled amongst themselves, looking at Nash's lifeless body and wondering his condition after that strike from Rok's giant fist.
"Shit…"
"Is he, uh…"
"Dead?"
"Fuck, man…"
When Star heard them, she shouted at Nash, who still looked lifeless in the ring, "STAND UP, YOU BIG IDIOT! THAT WAS PATHETIC!"
They looked at her and cringed; Code looked visibly irritated by the attention.
"Okay, okay! Damn woman…" said Nash, surprising those watching.
The audience was shocked when they heard his voice. And when they witnessed him stand, his broken bones were reforming—limbs snapping back in place with a simple, finished neck crack by the end. "Eight left," Nash said to himself, looking completely unfazed now.
Rok smirked, speaking, "I see. So that's how it works."
The crowd was in utter bemusement at the sight of Nash; he was once again in his pristine state. 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 IronNash can do!?"
They erupted.
"Oh, don't change sides now!" Nash shouted to them when he heard their chatter. "Keep cheering his name! Live with your choice"—he whipped his eyes back to his opponent, and smiled, still speaking to the audience—"So I can witness your reaction once I beat him to a pulp!"
Nash bolted again toward Rok, and Rok welcomed him with a wide stance and determined eyes. And rather than throwing another strike from his outstretched arms, Rok crossed them to block instead.
Nash arrived, quickly leaping, and flipping behind Rok; he was wide open there. He reeled in a 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 intimidatingly in Nash's ears.
Immediately after the impact, Rok turned into sand, disintegrating into the dunes below.
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 completely bound.
Another whip shot toward him from the front and wrapped around his neck, and the sand below him began to sink, taking him with it.
Nash snickered as he slowly descended. Still bound in place, his muscles relaxed, remaining as he was, and letting the sand take him.
"Is this the end for you, Tank? Have you accepted defeat?" Rok called from sight unseen.
Nash said nothing and bore a smile instead, as his body continued to sink 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.
Then Rok reformed back from the sand feet away, watching carefully. Something was not right… They would not declare him the winner yet, 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 sight of Nash from below.
Where did he go? Rok thought as his eyes darted every which way like he was scanning below the Dunes.
Then, something had blasted out from the sand right underneath him, and like in slow motion, he witnessed a fist on a direct course for his jaw.
Nash's fist made impact, and the massive giant, Rok, flew back from the strike, leaving Nash poised in the air with an arm and fist shot up like a leap of victory out from the crushing sands.
"Seven left," he said under his breath.
From the audience, Code commented, "Smart play, 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, grounding 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 counted as one adaptation 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 against an opponent like Rok."
"Yeah, yeah. Good shit though!" Havoc waved a hand. "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.
She felt Raeyn's presence in her head.
"What are you scowling about?" she spoke to her, but Havoc thought she was referring to him.
"Why do you think!? 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 earlier comment but let go of the thought shortly after. Alice couldn't help but observe her sister's pouty behavior all the while. And then she asked, "Hey, sis, this guy's from the Desert Kingdom, right?"
"Yes, why?" Belle responded, shaking her head as if she was ridding a lascivious thought after what Ophelia had previously said.
Plaything… Belle thought lastly as Alice went on, "Why didn't you recruit him into the Golden Rose Knights?"
"Well, to be frank," Belle replied. "I did. And he declined."
"Really? He turned down the Valley's number one Guild?"
"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."
"Hm…"
"You'll see why soon. His magical power nearly rivals mine," Belle concluded.
Alice opened her mouth to speak, but then focused back to the ring. She decided she would see for herself, then.
Back in the ring, Rok had been lying down on the field with what seemed like a busted jaw. Nash adjusted his stance, not letting his guard down. He knew that wasn't going to be enough to do him in, not this giant—and not with that ability.
Rok submerged his whole body into the sand and burrowed all the way to where Nash was. He rose out from the sand, appearing before him, raising a hand to his jaw, and grabbing it to lock back in place; sand flicking about 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," he commented.
"Likewise. Your Sand ability is nothing to pass up either!" Nash responded with his opponent now in front of him so casually. "I don't quite know exactly if it's Full-Body or something more, but you handle your own like a real man."
"Much appreciated. I have awakened Sand Creation magic. Works like Grand magic, but not quite."
Nash held out a palm and closed his eyes. "No need to explain, let me witness it firsthand." He opened his eyes and reached out that same hand, and 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?" said Nash.
"Aye, but know this…" Rok released his arm from Nash, and the two separated, hopping yards away from each other like that was their own signal to fight once more. "Every move from here on will be with all I have. You best do the same!"
"Hell yeah! That's the kind of shit I like to hear!" Nash bellowed with a wicked smile on his face. And as he did, Rok made a hand sign, chanting,
"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 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 installment hand sign and chanted, "Rain."
And once the words had been uttered, the sand sky fell; clumps of sand meteors roared down onto Nash.
Rok's Sand Creation magic was a branch of Elemental Summon subtypes within the Creation category; it allowed him to construct nearly anything out of sand. Normally for Elemental Summon mages, a sigil is formed by spell to bring their inherited element to life, but because he was awakened, his magic no longer needed sigils to come forth and took on a property that appeared similar to Grand Sand magic. This awakening enabled him to change the terrain into sand within a certain radius and perform Full-Body techniques so long as he was consciously activating his magic as such.
Nash's eyes flickered at the sight of the falling sand sky. 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, devastating blows delivered upon him 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 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 over the dark void Nash had fallen into.
The sound echoed, and the colosseum shook. Everyone had staggered from the impact of Rok's spell combos.
But just as everyone had thought he was done, Rok swayed his hands, and the sand where he had trapped Nash flowed like a wave; he did it over and over, as if stirring a massive pot, until he had found Nash within it; the large clock behind Nash gonged 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, having 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, 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. 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 asserted.
Nash hopped 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 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.
Then a random thought came to Nash's mind. One where he, Greed, Ophelia, and Asura sat by a fire…
***
Greed:
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.