The roar of the Colosseum rose like a wave, crashing and breaking against the stone. Dust hung in the air, stirred by thousands of feet stamping in rhythm. The beginner's cup was never the most prestigious event, but with Cloud Strife walking into the ring, even the old veterans sitting in the stands leaned forward in anticipation.
On one side of the arena, Cloud adjusted the strap of his gauntlet, the massive Buster Sword resting against his shoulder like it weighed no more than a stick of kindling. His expression was unreadable, calm, the eyes of someone who had walked through far worse than any tournament stage. The blade caught the sunlight, gleaming like a shard of the sky itself.
Opposite him, Thalen stepped forward, cloak brushing against the sand. His sword looked like a toy against Cloud's weapon, but he held it firm, low in his hand, ready. His breath misted in short, deliberate bursts as he centered himself. A Nobody's heart might be gone, but his will—shaky though it was—still burned.
Helios leaned on the railing in the stands, blue eyes sharp. He already knew how the fight should end. Cloud was a living storm, his sword a hurricane. But part of him wanted to see if Thalen could hold his ground longer than expected. To adapt.
The horn sounded.
Opening Strikes
Cloud moved first. Not a step, not a feint, but he simply blurred. His massive frame cut the distance in half with terrifying speed, sword already in motion.
The first strike whistled down in a clean arc. Thalen barely brought his sword up, the impact rattling through his arms like a hammer on bone. He staggered, sand crunching under his boots.
Before he could regain footing, Cloud's second swing came—followed instantly by a third.
Cross Slash.
Three cuts, each heavier than the last, blazing across the space where Thalen stood. He ducked the final stroke by instinct, rolling as the sword bit into the stone floor and carved out a molten line. The crowd gasped.
Thalen's sword flashed as he counter-slashed at Cloud's flank. The strike was fast but shallow, barely scraping Cloud's armor. Cloud barely reacted; his shoulders shifted, and the blow was shrugged off like rain on steel.
"Already pressing him," Helios murmured, lips curving faintly.
Cloud didn't give breathing room. His boots carved furrows in the sand as he pressed forward, stringing attacks into a relentless combo.
Thalen blocked, parried, twisted his sword against Cloud's strikes, each impact threatening to tear the weapon from his grip. The Buster Sword was simply too heavy, too fast, too punishing. Sparks flared with every clash, and the cloak Maleficent had given him fluttered in the shockwaves.
'Think. Adapt.'
Cloud's rhythm wasn't random. Every time he chained into a flurry, his stance lowered, his shoulder tilted forward. Thalen began to notice the gaps like Zack taught him—the heartbeat where Cloud recovered between flurries.
When Cloud thrust forward with Sonic Blade, streaking across the arena in a blink, Thalen slid sideways, cloak snapping behind him. He lashed out with a quick cut toward Cloud's ribs. It connected—barely—but even a shallow strike drew blood.
The crowd erupted. The newcomer had struck Cloud.
Cloud's eyes narrowed, not with pain but with interest. He swung back, faster this time, his sword glowing faintly with mako energy.
Falling Sky
The blade rose overhead, then dropped like judgment itself. Thalen, however, managed to dodge with barely a second to go.
Climhazzard.
The air cracked as Cloud leapt, bringing the sword down in a brutal plunge. Thalen crossed his sword in both hands, bracing, and the impact hurled him into the dirt. Dust burst skyward, cloaking the arena.
When it cleared, Thalen was on his knees, arms trembling, cloak torn. Blood stained the sand under him. But he was still alive.
Cloud tilted his head. "Not bad."
Thalen forced himself up. His voice came halting, fragmented like broken glass. "You… hit hard."
The crowd laughed, cheering louder. Even the spectators loved an underdog with gall.
Now Thalen shifted his stance. He stopped chasing offense. Every movement turned defensive, calculated. His sword intercepted Cloud's flurries at angles meant to deflect, not block outright. His feet slid across the sand, absorbing impacts, redirecting them.
And every time Cloud overextended, Thalen cut in with a quick stab. Not deep, not deadly, but cumulative. A slice across the forearm. A jab across the thigh.
Helios's eyes narrowed. Good. He's learned that he can't beat Cloud with his current level of strength. He's buying time, hoping to tire Cloud out; I'm surprised he quickly managed to figure out his best option.
Cloud smirked faintly, adjusting his grip. "Then let's finish this."
Omnislash
The air thrummed. Cloud's aura flared, golden electrical energy wrapping his form like fire. He surged forward—not running, not leaping, but simply appearing where he needed to be.
Omnislash.
A storm of blows erupted. Cloud spun around Thalen, sword flashing faster than sight. Each slash landed, sparks flying, the ring of metal deafening. The arena gasped, some rising to their feet, watching the legend unleash his ultimate technique.
Thalen's sword blurred in frantic defense. He twisted, rolled, ducked, every nerve screaming as the sword kissed inches from his flesh. The cloak caught one strike, ripping at the shoulder. Blood welled from a shallow cut across his cheek.
Cloud vanished, reappeared, slashed again.
Thalen stumbled, but each time, he adapted faster. His parries became cleaner, his movements tighter. The sword caught Cloud's blade at an impossible angle, deflecting it wide, just enough to slip under the killing arc.
For the first time, Cloud paused mid-assault, blue eyes narrowing. His breathing was steady, but his expression sharpened.
"You're tougher than you look."
Thalen's chest heaved. "Still… standing."
The crowd roared in approval. Even Phil, watching from the sidelines, had both hands on his horns, yelling encouragement.
Cloud pressed again, but this time Thalen anticipated. He sidestepped a downward slash, sliding along Cloud's guard, and slashed upward, nicking Cloud's jaw. Blood welled—a small cut, but a mark nonetheless.
The Colosseum exploded with noise.
Helios allowed himself a small smile. 'He drew blood twice. Not bad at all.'
But Cloud wasn't finished. With a growl, he drove forward, smashing Thalen with his shoulder and sending him sprawling across the sand. The sword flew from Thalen's hand, skittering away.
Cloud planted the Buster Sword in the ground beside Thalen's neck, the blade humming with restrained power. "Yield."
Silence fell.
Thalen lay there, chest rising and falling, eyes burning. He wanted to rise again, to keep proving himself—but his body betrayed him. He gave the faintest nod.
The crowd erupted, cheers echoing off every wall.
Cloud pulled back his sword and extended a hand. Thalen stared at it for a heartbeat, then took it, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. The crowd cheered louder at the gesture of respect.
Phil waddled into the ring, voice booming. "Winner: Cloud Strife!"
The audience chanted Cloud's name, but many also shouted for Thalen—the boy who had dared to stand against one of the current top three in the beginner cup.
From the stands, Helios watched, arms crossed. He adapts under pressure. He bleeds, but he doesn't break fast. Good. Very good.
He leaned back, lips curving faintly. He'll be useful yet.
Meanwhile, Cloud and Thalen walked side by side from the arena floor, the crowd's energy still buzzing around them. For Thalen, the loss was bitter, but he had endured more than anyone expected. For Cloud, it was another victory—but not one he dismissed.
Somewhere in the stands, Zack was already waving his arms, shouting that it was the best fight he'd ever seen. Skuld smiled in relief, Kurai's eyes lingered on Helios as though reading his cold detachment, and Sephiroth merely closed his eyes, unimpressed but quietly noting the growth.