I watch as people around the arena place their bets on who will emerge victorious. Confident in Haroun's abilities, I place my own wager on him, certain he will win. The anticipation in the air is palpable, the crowd buzzing with excitement as the next round approaches.
After a 30-minute rest, the second match begins. The atmosphere is electric, the tension mounting with every passing second. My eyes are fixed on Haroun as he steps into the arena, his demeanor exuding confidence and focus.
Haroun faces his opponent with an air of expertise and ease. His movements are precise, almost poetic, as he maneuvers gracefully, each strike calculated and powerful. The crowd watches in awe, captivated by his skill and agility.
Before long, Haroun is the first to finish his match, securing another victory. My heart swells with pride and excitement, and I can't help but cheer for him. Beside me, Kai has been swept up in the fervor of the competition, his earlier reservations forgotten in the thrill of the moment.
"Your Haroun is really something else," Kai admits, unable to hide his admiration.
"He certainly is," I reply, my eyes never leaving Haroun as he acknowledges the crowd's applause.
Soon, the announcer takes center stage, his voice booming across the arena as he announces the top three contenders, each praised for their exceptional skills and performance. The excitement is palpable as the competitors draw lots to determine the hierarchy for the final matches. Haroun is set to face the son of a duke from a renowned swordsman family.
The anticipation is high, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. Haroun steps into the arena, his demeanor calm yet focused. His opponent, though skilled, is clearly outmatched. Despite this, he manages to push Haroun to take the fight seriously, a testament to his own abilities.
The duel is intense and captivating. Haroun moves with a precision and grace that leaves the crowd in awe, each strike calculated and powerful. His opponent fights valiantly but ultimately cannot match Haroun's prowess. With a decisive and expertly executed move, Haroun secures his victory. The crowd erupts in applause, cheering for the victorious warrior.
As the announcer steps forward to proclaim Haroun's victory, Haroun motions for him to pause. Curious murmurs ripple through the audience as the announcer bends to listen to Haroun. After a brief exchange, the announcer straightens up and addresses the crowd once more.
"Our competitor here wishes to skip the rest time and have his match right now!" he announces, his voice filled with excitement.
The arena explodes with cheers and murmurs of surprise. Haroun's bold decision to continue without rest captivates the audience, adding an extra layer of intensity to the competition. The crowd's energy surges, their admiration for Haroun growing with each passing moment.
As the next competitor steps forward, the crowd falls into a hushed silence, anticipation hanging thick in the air. This final match promises to be the most thrilling yet, and everyone can sense it. Haroun's decision to forgo rest has raised the stakes, making the upcoming duel all the more exhilarating.
The two opponents face each other, the tension palpable. The announcer's voice cuts through the silence, signaling the start of the match. The final battle begins, and the crowd watches in rapt attention.
The tension between Haroun and his final opponent crackles in the air, like a storm about to break. The young man standing opposite Haroun is no ordinary swordsman; he moves with a grace and confidence that belies his youth. I can tell from the barely noticeable twitch of Haroun's eye and the tightness of his jaw that he is annoyed, clearly they have history.
As their match begins, it becomes clear that this opponent didn't reach the finals by sheer luck. His movements are precise, his technique polished. Every swing of his sword, every step he takes, demonstrates a deep understanding and mastery of his craft. Haroun, who normally dispatches his adversaries with an almost effortless ease, is forced to engage fully, his skills and reflexes pushed to their limits.
Had Haroun taken the rest period, this battle might have been less taxing for him. But his decision to skip the break has leveled the playing field, making the match an even contest. This choice adds an extra layer of intensity to the fight, drawing the audience into the palpable tension. The crowd is on edge, their collective breath held as they watch every thrust and parry with rapt attention.
From my vantage point, I see every nuance of Haroun's movements, his body language speaking volumes. His opponent matches him blow for blow, their swords clashing with a ferocity that sends sparks flying. Each strike is met with an equally powerful counter, the sounds of their combat echoing through the arena.
My heart skips a beat, the excitement and anxiety almost too much to bear. Even though I know Haroun's capabilities, the sheer skill of his opponent makes the outcome uncertain. The arena is supercharged with energy, every spectator caught up in the high stakes of the duel.
Haroun's frustration is evident, yet he channels it into his fighting. His eyes flash with determination, his muscles coiled with the promise of victory. He digs deep, summoning every ounce of his strength and technique to overcome this formidable challenger.
The crowd's roars and gasps amplify the intensity, their emotions mirroring my own. Despite the tension, I have unwavering faith in Haroun.
Haroun's opponent, in a desperate bid to gain the upper hand, unleashes his sword aura. It's a clear violation of the rules, but the intense pressure of the match has pushed him to this extreme. The air crackles with his blue-green energy, and the crowd gasps at the audacity of the move. Haroun, undeterred, responds in kind, releasing his own golden-yellow aura. The atmosphere in the arena becomes electric, charged with the clash of their formidable energies.
The match transcends ordinary combat, becoming a spectacle of superhuman speed and dazzling flashes of color. Haroun and his opponent move so swiftly that their forms blur, their swords meeting with resounding clashes that send shockwaves through the arena. It's a dance of power and precision, each move calculated, each counter precise. The blue-green and golden-yellow auras swirl around them, creating a mesmerizing display of light and energy.
Despite the desperation of his opponent, Haroun's skill and determination shine through. His movements are fluid, his strikes powerful and unerring. Each exchange of blows pushes him closer to victory. I watch, impressed and captivated by his prowess.
The battle reaches its climax in a breathtaking flurry of motion, almost too fast to follow. When the dust settles, Haroun stands victorious, his opponent defeated. Haroun's chest heaves with exertion, sweat glistening on his brow as he leans on his sword for support. His golden-yellow aura fades, leaving him standing tall and proud amidst the cheers and applause of the crowd.
The announcer steps forward, his voice booming over the roar of the spectators. He extols Haroun's achievements, highlighting his extraordinary talent. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have witnessed the prowess of the youngest five-star swordsman in centuries, at merely twenty-two years old!" The revelation of Haroun's age surprises me; it's a piece of information I didn't know. Haroun's oldest memories are of the underground battle arena, so even he didn't know his age a few years ago.