There is a style. Fighting style to be exact. One that doesn't exist in this current steampunk plane. One that is of royalty. And it isn't something that can just be merely practiced… no… it's something that you are born with. It can hardly be called a talent as it is woven into the psyche and flesh of Sentinels.
Mizrun'iklung.
Mizrun being an ancient word for eternal. Iklung being an ancient word for god. Although, that word had lost its meaning over time. In reality, Iklung didn't mean god, but sky.
Mizrun'iklung. Eternal Sky.
…
The atmosphere crackled with tension as Silas and Lucas crept their feet together, the room echoing with the metallic clinks of the dismantled fire extinguishers. Each step seemed to tighten the coil of anticipation, the clash of their distinct stances signaling the impending collision of contrasting fighting styles.
Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip
Silas, with regal poise, maintained an air of calculated elegance, his royal stance reflecting a disciplined mastery. Opposite him, Lucas, in his upright grappler stance, exuded an aura of raw power, muscles tensed and ready to unleash controlled chaos.
Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip
The rhythmic sounds of their approach intensified, mirroring the pulsating energy between them. The air thickened with the promise of a fierce confrontation, the water-sprayed surroundings amplifying the heightened stakes of the impending clash in the confined space. And as their feet met, the symphony of tension reached its crescendo, setting the stage for the explosive encounter about to unfold in the transformed bathroom arena.
Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip
Their eyes were spread open unnaturally wide, like predators seeking the smallest twitch in their opponent's muscles. The whites of their eyes contrasted sharply against dilated pupils, creating an unsettling spectacle.
Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip
It was as if they were trying to absorb every nuance, every micro-movement that might betray the other's intentions. The intense gaze from both combatants radiated a sense of focus that transcended the immediate physical confrontation, delving into a realm of heightened awareness and strategical calculation.
Drip
Lucas lunged forward with explosive speed. His lower body became a blur as his legs, enhanced by steampunk implants in his hamstrings, hissed with escaping steam. The fiery power within him surged, propelling him forward in a lower-body tackle that seemed almost primal.
Yet, his eyes widened as his opponent disappeared in front of his eyes. Turned into a blur, Silas had whirled to the side, his leg lifting up and coming straight down with a brutal stomp to the back of the boy's neck.
"You monster…" Silas grinned, a drop of either sweat or water running down his cheek.
He didn't move a single inch. The System Connector on the back of his neck, blocking any possible damage from Silas's foot suddenly opened up, unleashing a gust of steam that then blew a faucet of scalding water towards Silas.
Unlike the stable and very tangible form of a physical attack, water was random and fluid. So, Silas quickly took a few steps back instead of searching for an opportunity to counter. And just as he caught his grip on the slippery floor, he raised an eyebrow.
"Fire… and water?"
"What? Curious as to how my body can hold two glyphstones?" Lucas smiled.
"No… not really," Silas muttered, swaying his body into a relaxed motion before disappearing from Lucas's view.
Lucas was immediately caught off guard and looked down to see a fist coming straight upward toward his chin. In clear imminent danger, he raised his hands up to try and block, but he was too slow. The fist whipped into his chin, yet he managed to minimize as much damage with a slight move back of his head.
"You're a slippery motherfucker," Lucas spit out a mouthful of blood before seeing Silas return to that same royal stance. Knife hand facing towards him, dominant foot raised, heel off the ground, his entire body relaxed… it was truly an incredible sight to witness. "Use your fucking magic… or don't tell me you're too scared…"
"Shut the fuck up," Silas grit his teeth, a wave of explosive anger bubbling from within him. Clearly, this was a sensitive topic for him. "Talkin' shit when you're a grappler who can't even take me down."
"I don't need to grapple to take down your sorry ass."
Silas's expression remained stoic, but a flicker of rage sparked in his eyes. Silas's System Connector unfolded with mechanical precision, steam hissing and cogs turning in synchronized harmony. The ethereal glyphs illuminated the steampunk embellishments, casting a soft radiance around the unfolding mechanism.
With a surge of power, Silas channeled his magic through the System Connector, creating a gust of wind that cut through the surrounding spraying water in a sickle-shaped blade. Steam burst from the inner workings of his tech and the sound of churning cogs, getting ready to fire up another blast blared through the atmosphere.
FWOOOSH
Suddenly, the bladed gust of air exploded into steam as Lucas clapped his hands together, scraping two pieces of machinery on either palm against each other. One created a sparkly blast of embers while the other was a tasting of water, just enough to create a blast of steam that instantly stopped the blade in its tracks.
A coated smokescreen of singing water vapor erupted through the tiled battlefield, leaving both boys dazed and short of breath. The vents within the room were working at max speed yet there was so much steam that neither Silas nor Lucas could see each other. But, the first person to make their move on the offense was of course Silas.
Despite the suffocating steam and burning water scalding his skin, Silas had kept his eyes wide open. Even through burning pain, his specialized eyes, keen on analysis, captured even the slightest shift and sudden change in the steam's shape surrounding him.