The whole place was
buzzing
, the crowd on their feet, voices crashing together in pure excitement.
The announcer’s voice
boomed
over the chaos.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS IS A CLASH OF PURE POWER!"
The massive screens lit up, flashing both fighters’ names in bold, glowing letters.
"ON ONE SIDE—THE IMMOVABLE FORCE! THE UNBREAKABLE TITAN! THE MAN WHO TURNS THE BATTLEFIELD INTO HIS DOMAIN—DANTE ROAN!"
The crowd
exploded
, chanting Dante’s name, hyping him up like he was
unstoppable
.
"AND ON THE OTHER SIDE—THE RELENTLESS HUNTER! THE PREDATOR WHO NEVER STOPS! THE ONE WHO EVOLVES WITH EVERY STRIKE—APOLLO!"
Another wave of cheers
ripped through the stadium
, the energy hitting a fever pitch.
This wasn’t just a fight.
This was a
war
.
A battle of
who was stronger
.
A battle of
who would dominate
.
The
bell rang
.
And they
charged
.
The First Clash
Apollo
lunged
, his body already shifting, muscles tightening, instincts firing on all cylinders. His
Primal Apex
kicked in instantly, his movements fluid, his speed climbing with every step.
Dante
stood his ground
, his
Titan Veil
warping the battlefield around him. The air
thickened
, gravity pressing down, making every movement feel
heavier, denser
.
Apollo felt it—the weight, the suffocating force—but he
didn’t stop
.
He
accelerated
, his body adapting, his momentum building.
Then—he
struck
.
A clean, brutal swipe aimed at Dante’s ribs.
Dante
didn’t dodge
.
Didn’t block.
He
absorbed it
.
The impact
fed his power
, his body reinforcing itself, his next attack growing stronger.
Then—he
countered
.
His fist swung, carrying the weight of Apollo’s own strike,
amplified, dense, unstoppable
.
Apollo
vanished
.
Phantom Pounce.
He reappeared
behind Dante
, claws flashing, aiming for his back—
But Dante
was ready
.
His
Dominion Pulse
activated, releasing a shockwave of stored force.
Apollo was
blasted backward
, skidding across the battlefield, his body adjusting instantly, his muscles tightening, his stance shifting.
The crowd
lost it
.
"WHAT A COUNTER! DANTE ROAN JUST TURNED APOLLO’S OWN ATTACK AGAINST HIM!"
Apollo
grinned
, breath steady, instincts sharpening.
Dante
smirked
, rolling his shoulders, his presence
suffocating
.
Neither was backing down.
The Battle Escalates
Apollo
moved
, faster now, his body adapting, his
Predator’s Momentum
kicking in.
Every step made him
stronger
.
Every movement made him
sharper
.
He
vanished again
Phantom Pounce
—reappearing at Dante’s blind spot, claws flashing.
Dante planted his feet.
Absolute Stance.
Apollo’s strike
connected
—but Dante
didn’t move
.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even
budge
.
Apollo’s eyes
widened
.
Then—Dante
grabbed him
.
His grip was
unbreakable
, his strength
overwhelming
.
Apollo
roared
, his
Sovereign Roar
shaking the battlefield, the sheer force making the ground tremble.
Dante
felt it
, his muscles tensing, his body resisting the primal fear—but it
slowed him
.
Apollo
used it
.
He
twisted
, breaking free, his body adjusting, instincts sharpening.
Then—he
attacked
.
Faster.
Stronger.
More
relentless
.
Dante
absorbed every hit
, his
Force Conversion
stacking power, his next attack growing
more devastating
.
Then—he
released it
.
Dominion Pulse.
The shockwave
erupted
, sending Apollo
flying
, crashing into the ground.
The crowd
screamed
, the announcer barely keeping up.
"THIS IS INSANE! APOLLO KEEPS GETTING STRONGER, BUT DANTE JUST WON’T BREAK!"
Apollo
stood
, his body adjusting, his muscles refining, his instincts sharpening.
Dante
rolled his shoulders
, his presence
suffocating
, his power
undeniable
.
They charged again.
The Final Exchange
Apollo
vanished
Phantom Pounce
—reappearing
above Dante
, claws ready.
Dante
planted his feet
Absolute Stance
—ready to
absorb the impact
.
Apollo
didn’t strike
.
Instead—he
roared
.
Sovereign Roar.
The battlefield
shook
, the force
unleashed
, the pressure
overwhelming
.
Dante
felt it
, his stance faltering, his body resisting—but Apollo was
already moving
.
He
struck
, claws flashing, momentum
unstoppable
.
Dante
absorbed it
Force Conversion
—his power stacking.
Then—he
released it
.
Dominion Pulse.
The shockwave
erupted
, but Apollo
vanished before it could hit
.
He
reappeared behind Dante
, claws aiming for his
neck
.
Dante
turned
, his fist swinging—
Apollo
ducked
, his body adjusting, instincts
perfected
.
Then—he
struck
.
A clean, brutal hit.
Dante
staggered
.
Apollo
didn’t stop
.
He
attacked again
, claws flashing, momentum
unstoppable
.
Dante
tried to absorb it
, but Apollo’s
speed was too much
.
The
final strike landed
.
Dante
collapsed
, his body hitting the ground, breath heavy, strength
spent
.
The crowd
froze
.
Then—
exploded
.
The announcer
screamed
.
"APOLLO WINS!"
The stadium
erupted
, cheers and boos colliding, the energy
unreal
.
Apollo
exhaled
, rolling his shoulders, his body still buzzing with adrenaline.
The stadium
was chaos
, but Apollo?
He barely looked
fazed
.
His breathing was
steady
.
His posture was
relaxed
.
Not a single bead of sweat touched his skin.
Dante Roan—one of the
strongest fighters in the tournament
—lay
unconscious
, defeated with
almost no effort
.
Apollo
rolled his shoulders
, exhaling slowly, his expression
unreadable
.
The announcer’s voice
boomed
over the chaos.
"AND JUST LIKE THAT—APOLLO ADVANCES TO THE NEXT ROUND!"
The crowd
cheered
, though some murmured in disbelief.
Had it
really
been that easy?
Had Dante—the
immovable force
—really been taken down
so effortlessly
?
Apollo
didn’t react
to the noise.
Didn’t acknowledge the cheers.
Didn’t even glance at Dante’s fallen body.
He simply
turned
, walking off the arena, his mind
already shifting toward the next fight
.
As Apollo stepped out of the arena, his posture relaxed, his breathing steady—completely unfazed by the battle he had just won.
The moment he entered the waiting area, his teammates and fellow students
rushed toward him
, their voices filled with excitement.
"You made that look
too easy!
" one of them laughed, clapping him on the back.
"That was insane!" another chimed in. "Dante didn’t even stand a chance!"
Apollo smirked, rolling his shoulders. "He was strong," he admitted, though his tone was casual, almost indifferent. "Just not strong enough."
His teammates
cheered
, some shaking his hand, others patting his shoulder, their admiration clear.
Milo grinned. "You didn’t even break a sweat."
Apollo shrugged. "Didn’t need to."
Shylo chuckled. "You better hope your next fight isn’t that easy. Wouldn’t want you getting bored."
Apollo smirked, his gaze flickering toward the tournament brackets. "We’ll see."
The energy around him was
electric
, his school rallying behind him, their confidence in his strength
unshakable
.
The three of them all become proud of each other, how strong they’ve become since they were last together.