The WS territory had become a warzone. Dust and debris swirled violently over cracked concrete and splintered metal containers. Every corner echoed with the screams of fighting men, the clash of fists, and the metallic clang of weapons. UF and WS soldiers collided like two storms, each trying to gain ground while the battlefield groaned beneath their weight.
At the center, two figures stood out like peaks in a storm: Zain and Mahir. Both were battered and bleeding, muscles taut, veins like cords of steel under the skin. Mahir's hands were raw and scarred, his body coiled with tension and lethal intent. The air around them felt electrified, heavy with anticipation.
Orion Cleans the Battlefield
Orion moved like a hurricane among WS soldiers. Every punch, kick, and sweep carried lethal precision. He ducked under a swing, spun, and slammed a soldier into a concrete slab with a sickening crack. Another charged with a bat, only to be thrown over Orion's shoulder and into a pile of rubble.
One by one, WS fighters fell under his relentless assault. He twisted and pivoted, using their own momentum against them. A kick sent one soldier headfirst into a metal container, the clang echoing across the arena. A brutal elbow to another's jaw sent him sprawling into the dust. UF soldiers around him cheered, gaining morale, while WS fighters hesitated, witnessing the sheer dominance of Orion's skill.
Time and again, soldiers rushed him in groups, but Orion cut through them like a shadow, his movements precise and devastating. The air itself seemed to tremble with each strike, dust rising like smoke in the chaos.
Yet, with every foe defeated, every movement calculated to perfection, fatigue began to creep in. Orion's breath came faster, his muscles trembling under the strain, but his eyes remained sharp, never leaving the center where Zain and Mahir faced off.
While Orion carved a path through the WS soldiers, UF and WS fighters continued to clash around the perimeter. Fists and improvised weapons collided, sending showers of dust and sparks into the air. Some soldiers fought to protect their leaders, others to claim ground, but all movements paled in comparison to the titanic struggle unfolding in the center.
Alice moved purposefully through the chaos, sliding between fighting soldiers, eyes fixed on Zain and Mahir. He clenched his fists, ready to assist, but held back — knowing that the final fight belonged to Zain. Inspired by his presence, while WS soldiers tried in vain to intercept, only to be pushed back by his skillful strikes and calculated maneuvers.
At the center, Zain and Mahir circled each other warily, the ground beneath them hard, uneven, and unforgiving. Each step they took kicked up dust, every feint and strike leaving dents in the earth.
Mahir lunged first, a brutal hook aimed at Zain's midsection. Zain countered immediately, swinging his chain-connected rings with blinding speed. The spiked metal clashed against Mahir's forearm, sending a metallic clang echoing through the battlefield. Blood spattered, dust swirled, but neither fighter flinched.
Zain pressed forward, his chains wrapping and snapping with precision, each strike testing Mahir's defenses. Mahir responded with crushing elbows, knees, and swift counterattacks that forced Zain to retreat slightly. The ground shook under their movements, small cracks appearing where their feet slammed against the hard soil.
Every observer on the battlefield, whether UF or WS, could feel the tension. Every fighter who had survived the earlier skirmishes now watched, waiting for the explosion that would follow
Orion's Exhaustion Creeps in.
Orion continued to cut through the remaining WS soldiers, moving like a whirlwind of fists and feet. Yet the relentless motion began to take its toll. His movements slowed slightly, the fluidity replaced by brief moments of hesitation. Despite this, he never stopped. With a final series of devastating strikes, the last WS soldier near his position fell, groaning into the dust.
Orion straightened, chest heaving, sweat and blood streaked across his face. His arms hung heavily at his sides. The battlefield was littered with fallen soldiers, and a tense silence settled around his position for a brief moment.
Then, exhaustion overcame even him. His legs buckled slightly. Orion sank to one knee, then collapsed fully onto the battlefield, breathing hard, dust and blood coating his body. He had cleared the WS forces, but even a hurricane could not defy its own limits forever.
With Orion temporarily out of the fight, all eyes shifted back to Zain and Mahir. The two warriors circled like predators, calculating and waiting for the perfect opening. Zain's rings glittered under the dim light, chains rattling with every shift of his body. Mahir's fists clenched, knuckles white, a faint trickle of blood running down his temple.
Zain launched forward, swinging a chain-assisted strike at Mahir's shoulder. Mahir twisted his body, catching the chain with his own arm and snapping it aside. The impact rattled through Zain's arm, but he pressed on, swinging his rings in a flurry, trying to find a gap.
Mahir retaliated with a vicious elbow to Zain's ribs, forcing him back. The earth beneath them cracked with the force of each movement. Every attack was measured, brutal, and purposeful — this was not just a battle of strength, but of willpower, strategy, and sheer determination.
Alice approached the central area, weaving between fighters. He didn't strike at Mahir yet, but his presence was undeniable. His eyes locked on Zain, ready to back him up, and occasionally, his gaze flicked toward Mahir, assessing every movement for weaknesses. UF fighters near him followed in formation, holding WS soldiers at bay.
While he didn't engage fully, Alice's positioning added pressure. Mahir's peripheral awareness picked up the shift — he knew that the UF forces were reinforcing Zain, making any overextension dangerous.
Dust clouds swirled around the central fighters. UF and WS soldiers continued to clash on the outskirts, some rushing forward to assist, others retreating under the overwhelming force of Orion's clearing path. Debris flew, fists connected with metal and concrete, and the battlefield became a symphony of destruction and tension.
Zain and Mahir exchanged strike after strike, neither gaining a clear upper hand. Each movement sent dust and sparks flying, the sound of impact echoing across the arena. The two titans were locked in a deadly dance — fast, brutal, and perfectly mirrored in their intensity.
Zain swung a chain-assisted strike, sparks flying as it grazed Mahir's arm. Mahir's counter sent Zain staggering back, fists clenched, blood streaking his jaw. Around them, UF and WS fighters fought desperately, Orion lay unconscious from exhaustion, and Alice watched intently, ready to jump in if needed.
The two central warriors paused, breathing heavily, their eyes locked. Dust hung thick in the air. Every fighter on the battlefield sensed it: the final explosion of this war was imminent.
Then, with barely a moment's hesitation, Zain and Mahir charged at each other once again, fists and fury ready to collide, leaving the battlefield trembling — and the fight unresolved.
The storm was far from over.