Greed:
What makes a great Captain? I asked.
Choco Bars.
Fuckin' what?
I'm joking. What the hell do you think, you damn brat? Asura replied.
I glowered at the old man, waiting for a real reply.
Trust, he finally said.
What about Vice Captains or Execs?
Wits and decisiveness
Interesting… and Aces?
He chuckled merrily and said, That's easy… Sheer power.
***
As I recalled the memory of my and Asura's conversation, I watched Nash from the sidelines of a colosseum hallway. Much like Jo, I was there front and center for my subordinate.
Alphonzo didn't let me go alone, so naturally, I was accompanied…
"I'm starting to see a common trend with the way you treat each of your subordinates," Henza slyly added as he revealed through the shadows from behind.
"Trust. That's what makes a good captain. Not that you would know…" An effortless slight.
"Sheesh… I'm starting to wonder if the fist to my face would have been a kinder burn."
"Wanna find out? Alphonzo isn't here to save you."
"I think I'll pass. If I ever find myself in the mood to die again, I'll be sure to let you know. But for now, I would like to witness Nash's fight. I want to study how he beat me from that time. I was not in the right state of mind after all…" Henza inquired.
"Fine by me. For the rest of the match, just imagine Rok is you," I said, and Henza chuckled at that.
Back in the ring, Nash was glowing and immaculate. He emitted aura that Rok had yet to witness, and he thought it was a mere adaptation to everything that Nash had endured so far.
He threw out an open palm and a wave of sand, like walls, from both sides of Nash opened all around him. Nash remained strolling casually toward Rok all the while—that champion's smile still whipped across his face, ear to ear.
"A mere adaptation. I can do this all day," Rok said, "But you can't."
Closing his palm, the wave crashed onto Nash, covering him like a dome. The dome then shot out jagged spikes as if stabbing him from within. But almost immediately after, the sand wiped away and the particles disintegrated from Nash's mere step forward—still casually strolling in Rok's direction.
Another adaptation? Is he using them all in this match? he thought to himself.
Rok then placed both of his large hands onto the sand, and the dunes shook. When Nash took another step, pillars of spiked sand shot out, trapping Nash within it, looking as if it had stabbed him from multiple areas. Shadows formed over his eyes once more, but that chilling smile remained—becoming ever more haunting to Rok the more he witnessed it.
Then like the shattering of glass, the sand shattered and Nash had once again adapted, breaking free and proceeding his effortless walk forward.
Unbelievable… he really is planning on using them all in this match… no matter. He should be left with one Life now, to which I'll… Rok thought, interrupting himself with his own movement and chant, forming another hand sign,
"Sand Creation Magic: Dragon's Breath!"
Below Nash's feet, sand began floating and swimming in the air. It filled the arena completely, and with one motion from Rok, it all swirled, turning the entire place into a devastating, raging sandstorm. From the outside looking in, and because of the barrier, the ring looked like an enormous snow globe full of sand.
From the hallway, Henza had protected us with his Bonding shields. It was unnecessary for me, but I accepted the gesture anyway. I remained unfazed, watching the match with my arms crossed all the while.
Rok kept his hand sign in place as the sandstorm proceeded to rage vehemently. "Even if you use the last of your Lives here, the fury of these sands grow more intense by the second. Go ahead, waste your last adaptation—"
His words halted when he saw him saunter. Compellingly. Like a smiling silhouette creeping ever closer toward him through the harsh sandstorm as if it were nonexistent to him. Each violent shard slashed away at him, tattering and ripping his clothes—and even his skin, but he recovered each strike endlessly like he had an endless amount of Lives. His face was in shadow, but those light blue eyes of his glowed demonically; that smile was even more sinister to Rok now.
I get it now… he thought, even though he's recovering, he hasn't adapted to any of my attacks since he got back up… the only thing he's adapted,—Rok released his hand sign carefully, and Nash, with each step, moved ever closer—is himself.
Though Nash's Adaptation magic was overpowered in its own right, it didn't have a single spell for him to cast, and the auto-cast spell that activates on him is always the same every time. He can, however, withhold certain adaptations at his discretion and force an adaptation to himself—stacking his previous adaptations double, triple, or even tenfold depending on how many he had used prior. On top of that, it multiplies his physical prowess based on those adaptations since his body is always mana powered. And the neat part? He could do it again, and again until he ran out of Lives, making him almost godlike. I got chills watching him. Because it reminded me of our first battle that day when he did exactly that.
When Rok released his hand sign, he reached for the axes from his back at last. The sandstorm halted, all for a second, time seemed to slow, and in a blink, Nash had appeared before him—his speed doubled.
Rok swung an axe, and Nash blocked with a mere raised arm; the axe grinding on the gunmetal cuffs he wore.
The metal between them stuttered, sparking from the dragging impact. Then again, and again as Rok swung his overside axes, each time, they were swatted away like mere playthings.
Slash after slash flew at him, and his final block invited an opening to Rok's core. With one precise swing from his left fist, he shot the strike down, sending Rok flying.
He zoomed through the air and collided onto a faraway wall.
The audience was stirred. Their faces gaped, and if eyes could pop out from their heads, they resembled fools once again from the display of another Black Wolf Ace in the ring.
Nash waited with that smile was savagely displayed on his face. Rok arose from the smoke and crater of the wall he landed in; sand falling from his face and body like he had attempted to protect himself moments before with a sand shield, but barely made it.
"Incredible…" he shouted, blood trailing down the side of his mouth, "by far, you are one of the strongest I've ever faced!"
Nash said nothing. Only that smile was plastered wickedly on his face. His muscles gleamed as he grabbed his tattered white tank and gilet and ripped them off, revealing his large, sculpted physique. As the tatters fell, all the audience could focus on was the large wolf head tattoo inked crisply on his toned back. A symbol he was proud of after becoming an official Black Wolf Knight.
Rok then formed an intricate hand sign and chanted,
"Sand Creation Magic: Colossal Sand Dragon!"
Right then, the sand began to ripple, and humps like those of an actual Colossal Sand Dragon scourged the arena. One of the humps had shifted the sands beneath him, carrying him to an elevated position while his hands remained in place, and the Sand Dragon continued forming all the while. He stood, exhibiting himself like some deity, with rows of jagged teeth rotating in opposite directions behind him—ready to strike.
"Let's finish this, Black Wolf Ace!" Rok shouted, high on his sand pedestal.
"Aye," was all Nash finally said; almost like a whisper as he stood before Rok and the Colossal Sand Dragon that reigned intimidatingly before him. And his wild smile never leaving him for not a moment.
It seemed as if the audience held its breath as one, their mouths agape as they waited for the collision of the two titans in the ring.
This had been it for them. The one who would be left standing—was it Rok, the rider of the Colossal Sand Dragon, Head Guard of the Desert? Or Nash, the Tank and 2nd Ace of the Black Wolves?
When they both charged at each other, the whole arena shook and the sand split. Just like the match with Jo, they had both decimated this battlefield. Sand crashed onto the inner barrier of the arena, blinding the audience's view of them for but a moment.
The air thickened, and auras clashed. Nash's fist with the Colossal Dragon's mouth was like it had been against a sea of chainsaws—their auras the only wall between them. They pushed each other back and forth multiple times, and then like a massive explosion, the arena ignited. Daz's mages on their pillars held their hand signs together as a precaution in case these two mages also broke the inner barrier. Daz, as well, reinforced his nullifying barrier as Nash's aura alone could shatter it completely. He did so to the point of almost shrouding the match. Just enough for him to need only another adaptation to break it if he chose.
"Oh, these Black Wolves…" he said out loud to himself with closed eyes and a cheerful smile. The announcer looked at him nervously as he whipped his head back and forth to Daz and the ring.
From the audience's perspective, the arena was nothing but a sandy orb, half-shrouded in Daz's shadow-colored nullifying barrier and the now-visible outer barrier that his mages reinforced.
After what felt like minutes, the ring was finally visible to them all. Peering eyes from all around desperately tried to get a view of who the winner was.
Then, in the middle of all the falling sand, only one man stood. Given the two contenders' drastic differences in size, it was easy to tell who was standing there.
The announcer checked where the other one had landed, and he was within a crater against a wall—visibly knocked out, it had seemed…
"HELL YEAH!" I yelled from the open hallway.
To which the announcer followed suit and said, "And the winner of the second round's second match is… Nash of the Black Wolves!!!"
The reactions from the crowd were undeniable. From the Black Wolves crew to Nash's fans, to even the doubters from the beginning of the match. All roared when they saw him standing there with a fist in the air, shadows over his eyes, sand perched and decorated on his shoulders, and that infamous smile that, unbeknownst to us at the time, would be remembered and engraved in the Valley's archive.
In the hallway, I shook myself off from the sand, tapping my head as sand had even gotten in my ears. When I looked back, Henza was far inside the hallway with layers of Bonding shields blocking that entire inner hall.
"What a fucking monster…" he said as he undid his bonding rings.
"Told ya. He's a fucking beast!" I said to him as I dusted myself off.
I wasn't referring to him… he thought. I ran back because my shields wouldn't have withstood that force from both Nash and Rok, and I thought he would have enough sense to follow, but no…—observing me intently—he stayed… and not only that, but he came out unscathed. It's no wonder even Syemore lost to you. What in the world are you, Black Wolves Captain…?
I blinked as he stared at me like I had just read his thoughts. Surely, I was imagining it…
Nash stood in the middle of the ring as if he were a statue, and I called out to him, "Yo! You won already, asshole! Come on!"
No response.
"Uh… Nash?"
Still no response.
Then, from the crater, Rok began coughing and even managed to stand, staggering as he did, and towering even from his distance.
"No way."
When the audience saw him, they stopped their cheering and slowly shifted to gasps and chatter.
Rok began walking toward Nash, who was still standing there with his fist in the air. The announcer even whipped his head momentarily to witness the surprise. "D-Do my eyes deceive me, or is Rok standing… and walking!?" he shouted.
When Rok had reached Nash, they both shared shadows over their eyes as they stood across from each other. The anticipation and silence were deafening. He reached out a large hand over to Nash and gently tapped his shoulder, and when he did, Nash fell over and landed on his back. Unmoving and still…
Nash had been knocked out.
The announcer juggled his microphone, cleared his throat, and then said, "Folks, seems I may have made a rush to judgment… T-The winner of this match, it seems is…"—shock flashed onto all our faces as we witnessed this and hung on to the announcer's words—"Rok of the Desert Kingdom!!"
The crowd roared again in a tempest of excitement and even disappointment as cheers and boos competed in their own battle across the colosseum now.
I closed my eyes and threw my hands over my head. "Fuck man! I was so sure!" I shouted. Henza remained quiet and observed all the while.
After I had calmed down, I said, "Well… it is what it is… Good job, man" with a small smirk on my face.
It was then, Rok looked from Nash to me and shouted, "You there, Greed was it?"
I raised a brow. "Yeah."
"You are this knight's captain, no?"
I merely nodded.
"He is strong. Though I fell into a crater and am still conscious, he knocked out while standing. He is the true winner."
I was pleasantly surprised at his words. I never accepted flattery if it was directed toward me, but to my crew—to my friends. I welcomed it.
I snickered and closed my eyes, threw my hands in my pockets, and turned around. That was my way of telling him that I knew that already.
Before the healer and escort mages made it, Rok had picked up Nash and thrown him onto his shoulder. "This man doesn't need a stretcher. Leave us," he said to them as they came. They hesitated and nervously backed away as he made his way through them and followed behind me.
"Appreciate it, big guy," I said as we walked together back into the Warriors' Keep.
"No need. This is my way of returning the favor for a great match." Silence accompanied us for a moment, and then he finished with, "I look forward to facing you next."
I kept walking, eyes still closed and hands in my pockets. When we finally reached the Keep, all I did was step with a heavy foot, and I knew Rok felt the weight of it as his eyes widened and we walked into the light of the room. I turned my head back to him and said, "Unfortunately, I don't plan on staying long. But if we did face each other,"—my eyes seemed to shadow over his large brown ones—"I'm afraid it wouldn't be much of a fight."
If a large man could shrink, that's what it felt like when I said those words to him. A look of terror overtook his masculine face. It was in that moment that he realized the difference in power between us, though he was twice my size.
There was a difference with arrogance and when a man truly knows his own strength. Proudly, like it was him and he was it.
Rok had never backed away from a fight, but right now, he wished he had never uttered the words.