The sun blazed down on the arena, its light reflecting off the white stone walls as thousands of voices merged into a single restless roar. Dust and heat hung heavy in the air, stirred by the shuffling of eager feet. Every spectator leaned forward, waiting for the next clash.
"Dad, hurry up! We already missed the first half, and I don't want to miss the second!" a young sheep bleated, tugging at his father's arm.
"Hold on, hold on," the old sheep panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I know you're excited, but go easy on this old man."
"Oh no, the gates are opening! Who do you think it'll be? Juju? Jatin? Or maybe even Avin?" the boy asked, eyes wide.
"Relax, kiddo. Let's just wait and see. I doubt we'll see the great Avin this early. But whoever it is, they'll definitely be stronger than me."
"You're a low-level aura user, Dad. Everyone here is stronger than you," the young sheep teased with a grin.
CREAK—
The northern gates groaned open. Out stepped Madur the Wolf, lean and wiry, his gray fur shimmering faintly in the sunlight. His movements were measured, each step light yet full of authority. His silver eyes, sharp as blades under moonlight, swept the arena with calm indifference. No wave to the crowd, no wasted motion. He crouched low, claws faintly glowing with aura—a predator waiting for prey.
"It's him, Dad—the North Fang! He once defeated a pack of six black monsters all by himself!" the young sheep exclaimed.
"Who?" the old sheep blinked.
"Never mind—look! The south gate's opening!"
The ground trembled. From the southern entrance emerged Raushan the Gorilla. His massive frame drew gasps and cheers, his shadow stretching across the sand like a mountain. His chest was broad, his arms like stone pillars, his glossy black fur drinking in the light.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Raushan pounded his chest, each strike booming like a war drum, riling the crowd into a frenzy.
"It's the Mountain Destroyer! He once reshaped an entire mountainside fighting a black tree!" the young sheep shouted.
The referee raised his hand.
HOOOORN!
Raushan moved first. His massive body thundered forward, fists raised high. Each step cracked the ground beneath him. His first punch swung down like a falling tree, strong enough to crush a lesser fighter outright.
But Madur was already gone. He slid beneath the strike, claws flashing upward. A shallow red line appeared on Raushan's arm.
The gorilla only grinned. "Good. At least you're not weak."
His counter came like an earthquake. Both fists slammed into the ground, shockwaves rippling outward. Dust exploded into the air, front-row spectators stumbling as the vibrations reached them. Madur sprang back, narrowly escaping the crushing force.
"Did you see that, Dad? He used aura to create that shockwave! Cool, right?" the boy gasped.
"Hmph. Show-off. He wasted a large chunk of aura. At least the wolf is using his wisely," the old sheep muttered.
Madur answered with speed. Aura flared at his legs, his body becoming a blur. He darted left, then right, circling Raushan like lightning. Silver arcs carved across the gorilla's back, drawing blood.
"How did he do that?"
"He focused aura on his legs, spread it just enough across his body for speed," the old sheep explained.
Raushan roared, swinging massive arms in wide arcs. Each blow cracked the air, throwing sand and stone in every direction. Madur weaved through the chaos, his movements fluid, his claws sharp.
But Raushan's aura-coated hide blunted the worst of the damage. With a growl, he drove his fists into the arena floor. The ground split apart, jagged cracks racing outward. Madur leapt, twisting midair—
"It's a trap!" the boy yelped.
—Raushan launched up like a missile. His fist collided with Madur midair. Aura clashed, silver streaks against rocky glow. For a heartbeat, they were locked, predator and mountain, strength against strength.
Then came the crash.
The shockwave rocked the coliseum. Dust and pebbles rained from the walls. Madur's claws grazed Raushan's cheek, leaving a gash, but the gorilla's punch hammered his ribs. The wolf crashed to the ground, spitting blood, yet still crouched, eyes unyielding.
The crowd split into chants—"Fang! Mountain! Fang! Mountain!"
Raushan touched his cheek, then grinned wider. "Not bad, pup. But let's see how long you can run."
Aura surged around him, his muscles bulging, his body coated in a stony sheen. Each step cracked the ground. The air grew heavy.
Madur crouched low, silver aura pulsing from him like heat. His body blurred—then vanished.
He reappeared behind Raushan, then to his left, then his right. Claws slashed in rapid succession, carving fresh wounds, staining black fur with red. Still Raushan swung, relentless, his fists like falling boulders. One grazing blow sent Madur spinning away.
Then Raushan caught him.
A massive hand seized his arm mid-strike. "Got you." With a heave, he slammed Madur into the earth. The floor cracked, dust flying. Gasps erupted from the crowd.
But the wolf's body flickered—then vanished in smoke.
"An afterimage?!" Raushan snarled.
From the dust burst the real Madur, claws wreathed in silver aura. He raked Raushan's chest, tearing a deep gash. The gorilla staggered, blood pouring—but he didn't fall. Instead, he beat his chest again, aura condensing into a hardened second skin.
Both fighters bled. Both refused to yield.
"You're strong," Madur panted, ribs aching, lips curled in a feral grin. "But I'll cut you down piece by piece."
"Then come, wolf!" Raushan bellowed. "Show me those fangs!"
They collided, claws and fists erupting in a blinding clash. The shockwave silenced the coliseum for a breath, then the roar returned, deafening.
"Amazing! Mid-level users are insane! Who's going to win, Dad?" the boy shouted.
"At this point? Hard to say. If they were low-level, the fight would've ended long ago. Mid-levels have more aura—and tribal techniques. Look at the wolf. His tribe's Mirage lets him form afterimages. The gorilla's technique hardens his body layer upon layer. Both are dangerous," the old sheep said.
"Then who'll win?"
"Yeah… who'll win?" a voice joined.
The sheep turned. A young man stood beside them.
"Sorry, you were talking about something interesting," Sumit said with a small smile.
"You look familiar," the old sheep muttered, but before he could continue—
BOOOOOM!
Aura exploded in the arena. Dust swallowed everything. When it cleared, the fighters were locked in a final clash.
Raushan's massive fist pressed against Madur's chest, his arm trembling, cracks of aura spidering across it. Madur's claws were buried deep in the gorilla's side.
Silence.
Raushan coughed blood. His knees buckled. With a final growl, he collapsed, aura shattering like glass.
Madur staggered, blood dripping from his mouth, but his eyes remained sharp.
"Winner—Madur the Wolf!"
The crowd thundered. Madur raised his claws briefly, then lowered them, breathing ragged. No arrogance, only the calm of a predator who had survived.
Healers rushed to Raushan, working frantically. The gorilla had fought like a mountain, but the wolf's speed and precision had carved him down piece by piece.
Madur walked from the arena, his silver eyes scanning the stands.
"Dad, look! He's staring at us! Wave, wave!" the boy shouted.
The old sheep squinted. "He's not looking at us… he's looking at him." He pointed at Sumit.
"Me?" Sumit whispered.