The battle raged on with intensity. Rawa lunged at Nina with a swift punch, his eyes blazing with determination. Nina's reflexes were just as sharp; she dodged the blow at the perfect moment, her heart racing with adrenaline. Sinshi immediately counterattacked from behind, aiming at Rawa, but to their shock, he didn't budge. He stood there, like a rock carved from steel, unmoving, and Sinshi had no choice but to step back, his chest heaving with effort.
"Rawa is stronger than I imagined," Sinshi muttered to Nina, his voice tinged with both respect and tension. Nina nodded silently, feeling the weight of the fight pressing on her shoulders. Every movement had to be precise; one mistake could turn the tide instantly.
Meanwhile, Mio leaned closer to Mitsu, her brows furrowed. "There are so many strong competitors," she whispered, a hint of worry in her voice.
Kazuki interrupted gently, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Is that all you care about? Whether the opponents are strong? Of course they're strong. Instead of worrying about them, focus on the fight. Every small detail matters. This isn't just about physical power—it's also about intelligence. Strength alone won't win the battle."
Mio took a deep breath, nodding in understanding. "Yes, I know," she said softly, her voice steadier now.
Mitsu smiled faintly, the tension easing slightly. "And do you remember the training? The three plans we made?" he asked.
"In unison, Nina and Sinshi replied: "Yes!" Their voices were filled with determination, echoing in the charged atmosphere of the arena.
In the stands, far away, a boy with a powerful aura observed silently. His presence radiated energy, as if he alone could change the outcome of the fight.
Back in the arena, the battle resumed with ferocity. Sinshi attacked from the right, Nina from the left, and Rawa tried desperately to evade them. But the two moved in perfect synchrony, circling him in opposite directions. The whirlwind they created—a swirling combination of water, air, and electric energy—encased Rawa completely.
Rawa struggled, his face a mask of focus and frustration. The cyclone pressed against him from every angle, its force relentless and precise. He tried to break free, but the combined attack was too strong. For a moment, the arena seemed to hold its breath, the tension almost tangible.
And yet, something unusual was happening within the whirlwind. The energy surged unpredictably, crackling and shifting, hinting that this fight might not follow any simple pattern. Hearts raced, sweat dripped, and every spectator felt the electric anticipation in the air. The fight had become more than a clash of strength—it was a test of strategy, coordination, and sheer willpower.