The floor exploded. Shards of stone and shattered tile burst outward in every direction. Crates toppled, dust flew, and the ground quaked from the sheer force. The shockwave sent a tremor across the entire hall, and the audience watching from the balconies flinched.
Smoke billowed upward in thick curls. The impact zone was a broken mess of cracked stone and settling dust.
Leif landed hard, his boots skidding against the floor. He kept his whip ready, body tense, eyes scanning through the cloud.
But there was nothing.
No voice.
No sound.
No movement.
Leif narrowed his eyes. Where'd he—?!
That's when the hairs on his neck stood on end.
A flicker of movement behind him.
Leif spun—
Too late.
Alex was already there. Upside down, mid-flip, in perfect control of his body. His purple eyes gleamed with mischief and lightning as he hovered in the air like a predator that had just circled its prey.
A crooked smirk curved across his lips.
"Too slow, Lord Salad."
Leif's eyes widened. "What the hell is with that nickname—"
But then the glow started.
Alex's fist sparked to life, lightning crawling over his knuckles, cracking with violent energy. It wasn't wild. It was focused. Condensed. Every spark felt calculated. Dangerous.
The pulse around him shifted from playful to lethal.
The crowd, if they were still cheering, had gone silent.
Alex pulled his arm back, violet energy spiraling down to his wrist.
He inhaled once.
"Thunder Pulse…"
Time felt like it slowed. The vines twitched. Leif braced himself.
"SNAPSHOT!"
The impact came like thunder cracking open the air. Alex's lightning-charged fist crashed into Leif's back mid-air, releasing a sharp, glowing pulse on contact.
The blow launched Leif downward like a comet, his body twisting helplessly as violet arcs followed in his wake. The air itself vibrated with residual energy.
BOOOOM.
The training hall trembled. Leif collided with the ground in a cataclysmic slam, disappearing into his own network of tangled vines. Dust and shattered tile fragments sprayed across the battlefield like a mini explosion had gone off.
A thick silence followed. Even the chatter of the crowd died down, every eye watching the smoke, waiting to see if Leif had been knocked out cold.
The vines where he landed twitched, wriggling unnaturally. Then, all at once, they surged to life—stretching upward, coiling like serpents reacting to a silent command.
From the smoke, the greenery swelled into structure. Vines looped into spirals and slammed into place. Within seconds, a dome-like formation had assembled itself, made of thick green tendrils that pulsed faintly with energy.
Alex landed gracefully on a floating vine tile that hovered above the field. His arms folded as he looked down at the now-pulsing dome, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
"Huh." His voice broke the silence. "So we're doing round two."
Inside the vine structure, a voice echoed—not weakened, not afraid, but smug and theatrical.
"BEHOLD... THE PHANTOM'S BANQUET!"
Before Alex could even process the name, mechanical vine cannons suddenly rose from the vine walls like spring-loaded launchers. One after the other, they fired—
BANANAS.
Dozens of them, flung into the air in graceful arcs.
Alex squinted up. "...Bananas?"
The first volley exploded mid-air.
POP! FSSSHHH!
Each banana burst in a flash of color, releasing thick yellowish clouds that spread like rotten perfume.
Alex recoiled as the smell hit him. He gagged. His arms waved like he was trying to swat the stench out of the air. "WHAT KIND OF ATTACK IS THIS?!"
Laughter echoed around the arena. Some audience members fell over their seats howling. Others wiped tears from their eyes, barely able to breathe.
Then, as if the absurdity wasn't enough, the dome cracked open. A massive vine banana—the size of a car—burst forth, sliding along the vines like a chariot.
On top of it, standing proud like a king, was Leif.
Coat flapping, arms wide, glasses reflecting the overhead lights.
"FEAR THE PEEL, MORTAL!" he screamed, striking a pose as his banana steed slid toward Alex.
On the sidelines, Rebecca placed one hand over her face and sighed so deeply it could've been a groan. "Why do I even let him fight...?"
The crowd was completely unhinged now.
"GO BANANA LORD!!" someone roared from the second level balcony.
Another voice joined in: "DON'T SLIP!!"
Banana-shaped bombs rained from above, spinning in all directions, their peels fluttering like streamers. Each time one exploded, a new puff of disgusting mist filled the air.
Alex twisted his body, dodging with sharp, clean flips as he jumped from one floating vine to another. A banana bomb missed his head by inches.
"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever fought!" he shouted.
A low hum filled the hall as Leif raised both hands toward the sky, his vines twitching around him like sentient tendrils responding to a storm. His glasses glinted, jaw clenched tight in effort. From every crack, every seam in the floor and walls, vines spiraled together, twisting into a growing cyclone of green fury.
"VINE VORTEX..." Leif yelled, his voice echoing across the hall, "FULL CHOKE FORM!!"
The entire battlefield seemed to inhale as the vines surged. A writhing spiral burst outward, rotating like a drill with wild speed. Each vine tipped with hardened spikes. The vortex barreled toward Alex from all directions—above, below, side-to-side—intent on closing around him like a constrictor around its prey.
But Alex didn't move. Not yet.
He clenched both fists, standing with his head bowed slightly. His chest rose slowly, deeply. He drew in a single breath—calm, measured, intentional.
Then his eyes opened. They glowed—not just with energy, but with clarity. Twin sparks of violet shimmered like a storm held just behind his gaze.
"No more games," he whispered.
He raised one hand, palm open. Purple sparks coiled slowly up his fingers, climbing his wrist in delicate spirals, almost dancing—like lightning waiting for permission to erupt.
The ground trembled faintly as the pressure around him began to swell.
The camera of every spectator's mind would've shifted low at that moment—fixating on Alex crouching slowly, deliberately. His knees bent. Lightning crackled down his calves, surging across his boots.
The very air tightened.
"Time to finish this," Alex murmured.
Beneath him, the floor cracked—not from movement, but from potential. The stone fractured under his foot before he had even launched, unable to withstand the density of Pulse building within his body.
Every single person watching fell silent.
No cheers. No chants. No roars of encouragement.
Just silence.
You could almost hear the collective inhale of the crowd. Even the vines paused in their motion for a split heartbeat.
A hush settled across the hall like the quiet before thunder.
And then—
FLASH.
A brilliant burst of violet light exploded outward from where Alex had stood.
He was gone.
No trail, no wind, no warning. Just raw light and ruptured tile, the echo of displacement ringing in the silence.
The vortex continued spinning—but its target had already vanished.
And then—
A violet bolt tore across the battlefield.
It wasn't just fast—it was almost shapeless. A streak of lightning shaped like a man, pulsing with violent momentum. The air fractured in its wake, the sound trailing behind it like thunder struggling to keep up.
In that blur of motion, Alex emerged—his body arced forward mid-lunge, one arm extended like a spear, coiled in radiant energy. Lightning danced across his frame, every line of his form jagged and burning with purpose.
The point of impact came all at once.
A blinding explosion lit the world in pure white.
KRAKOOOOOOM!!
The walls trembled. A thunderclap unlike anything before shook the entire training hall. The world itself seemed to crack open under the weight of the Pulse unleashed.
In the crowd, people flinched. Eyes squeezed shut. Arms shot up to shield faces from the searing flash. For a moment, it was like staring into the heart of a star.
Time fractured.
The next moment was a blur of motion. A white-hot vein of lightning split the center of the arena like a canyon. The scent of ozone thickened. Sparks arced wildly from shattered vines and broken stone.
A shockwave blasted outward.
Green tendrils exploded into the air like cut wires. Dust spiraled in all directions. The light wasn't fading—it was radiating, eating up the horizon inside the room with every pulse.
At the center of the chaos, light and wind wrestled violently. Alex and Leif were lost inside it—a maelstrom of raw power.
It didn't sound like thunder anymore.
It sounded like the sky itself was being torn in half.
The noise wasn't a bang—it was an unraveling.
A slow zoom outward would show the full scale now: the arena consumed in glowing winds, scattered debris frozen in the light, vines burned mid-reach.
And then—
Black.
No sound. No flicker. No fading out.
Just sudden, overwhelming purple.
The sparks still danced faintly in the air. Trails of violet energy crackled along the ground, fizzing out one by one as silence draped the battlefield.
Dust hung in the atmosphere like a curtain hiding the outcome. No one dared move. No one dared speak above a whisper.
Some watched with wide eyes, breath held in suspense. Others leaned forward with casual curiosity, more interested in whether Leif's body would be twitching or limp when the fog cleared.
"Is it over now?" a voice muttered near the edge of the field.
"The fun had just started…" another replied, sounding almost disappointed.
Then came a shift in the haze. The dust curtain parted slowly, blown away by a fading gust of residual Pulse pressure. Visibility returned in patches.
And there they were—two figures caught in the aftermath of a clash.
Alex stood still, arm extended, his fist crackling with dying electricity. Leif stood in front of him, chest heaving, face pale… and very much alive.
Between them was a translucent layer of light blue energy, forming a crystalline barrier that shimmered faintly against the sparks still licking at its surface.
"Barrier!" someone gasped aloud.
Leif's eyes darted downward, then back up to the glowing fist hovering just inches from his sternum. His expression twisted—confusion, disbelief, then panic.
"Wait… I'm still alive?" he wheezed, blinking rapidly as if unsure if this was some final hallucination.
Alex exhaled, letting go of breath. He tilted his head slightly to the side.
At the platform's edge, Rebecca stood calm, glowing fingers holding the barrier.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Should've figured that was your doing," he said, his tone dry.
"I do like saving people from near-death situations," Rebecca replied without even glancing his way. "It's practically a hobby now."
Leif nearly dropped to his knees, shoulders sagging with every breath. "Thanks, Ascendant… your timing is perfect as ever," he muttered, half-laughing, half-sobbing.
"Don't mention it," she replied coolly, lowering her hands and letting the barrier slowly dissipate.
Gasps and chatter burst from the crowd now that the tension had broken.
"He survived?" someone said, shocked.
"Seriously?! After that attack?"
"That was insane! His body should be halfway into the wall!"
"No way... that new guy almost vaporized him."
Alex lowered his fist and rubbed his neck. "Kinda disappointing," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "I wanted to test that move. Put everything into it too."
He didn't sound upset—just mildly inconvenienced, like the world dodged his punch for once.
Leif forced himself to stand upright again, though his limbs were visibly shaking. "I... I think my soul almost left my body," he said, half-dazed.
"Same," Alex replied. "Except mine was doing the punching."
Laughter erupted from a few Axis members who'd been watching closely.
"Man, that was one crazy move," one said. "You see the crack it left on the floor?"
"If that hit landed, Leif wouldn't be talking. He'd be comatose."
"Dude's too lucky," someone muttered with envy "I wish I had a Rebecca on speed dial."
More chatter echoed as glances stole toward Alex. Whispers passed through the ranks like a current—curiosity, awe, and a little unease. No one knew who he was, but after that move, they knew one thing:
He wasn't normal.
A sudden voice cut through the thinning tension.
"Hey! Leif!" someone called out from the crowd, half-amused.
Another voice joined in, laughing. "Don't you have any plans of dying? It's been so many times you survived like this!"
Leif's bloodshot eyes twitched. His head snapped in the direction of the voice like a startled raccoon. Still trembling from near-death—and now this?
"OI! SHUT UP!" he screamed, voice cracking. "I WAS ABOUT TO GET CRISPED THERE, AND YOU FIND IT ENTERTAINING?!"
He looked like he wanted to hurl a vine at someone's face just for laughing.
Meanwhile, Alex blinked slowly, staring at Leif like watching a wild animal at a cheap circus. He tilted his head toward Rebecca.
"What's with this idiot?" he asked dryly. "He's barking too much."
Rebecca didn't even flinch. She was used to this—she lived in the riot.
"He always does it," she said with a sigh. "Just ignore him."
Alex narrowed his eyes, thinking it over, then gave a small nod as if that settled everything.
After a moment, he asked, "So I passed, right? Or do I have to give another test?"
Rebecca opened her mouth to answer, her tone neutral. "Yeah, of course, you pas—"
But she was cut off.
"PASSED MY ASS!" Leif exploded, throwing his arms out wide. "YOU WERE ABOUT TO BURY ME SIX FEET UNDER JUST NOW!"
Alex didn't deny it. Instead, he leaned in just a little, raising an eyebrow with a slight smirk.
"Sorry about that," he said, voice flat but deliberate. "I lose control when someone as annoying as you is around."
That earned a visible vein pop on Leif's forehead. "Say that again, I am open for another round!"
He was ready to throw hands despite the near-death blow he'd barely survived.
Rebecca stepped in, smiling calmly. Leif froze.
"It's over, Leif," she said sweetly. "Do you want me to suspend you for a week?"
Her smile stayed, but the air turned cold.
Leif let out a shaky breath and backed down, muttering something under it.
From above, Danny was watching all this unfold with arms crossed over the railing. He looked at Rebecca, at Leif, at the chaos like it was a rerun of a familiar soap opera.
Danny's grin lingered—but his eyes didn't leave Alex.
"That woman always ruins the fun," he muttered.
Then, quieter—almost to himself:
"But that kid… he's going to be trouble."
To be continued...