The moment Yesdar's name—"Jesdala"—boomed through the arena, the atmosphere ignited with a roar that seemed to rattle the very foundation of the stadium. The energy in the air was thick with anticipation as the crowd eagerly awaited the next battle. The cacophony of voices, cheers, and shouts all blended into one deafening wave of sound.
"Yesdar, it's your time," Malaes said calmly, her sharp gaze watching him as he rose from his seat. There was a hint of amusement in her voice. "And don't forget—keep it controlled. You're not here to break anyone beyond repair."
"Yesdar-sama, good luck!" Virumi called out, her eyes filled with admiration, her voice almost drowned out by the noise.
Yesdar, ever collected, walked toward the door leading to the battleground, his steps measured, his gaze steady. I don't need luck, he thought, but didn't voice it aloud. Words of encouragement weren't necessary for him—not for this.
As he descended the stories of the arena's interior, he moved swiftly, not bothering to use the lifts. There was something grounding about walking—about feeling the earth beneath his feet, the sensation that reminded him of his purpose. He finally reached the ground floor, where the entrance to the battleground awaited. As he neared, he could see the glow of red light seeping through the darkness.
The large alcove was imposing, its design both grand and ominous. Yesdar couldn't help but notice the unnecessary vastness of it. Why such a massive entrance for a regular man? he mused. It's ridiculous—overly dramatic.
Shaking off the thought, he continued forward. The alcove seemed to stretch endlessly, the dark red glow intensifying the closer he got. When he finally crossed the threshold, the scale of the arena became clear. He stepped out into what looked like an otherworldly battlefield, where the sky was no longer the familiar shade of blue but a dark crimson. It was as if the very air had been dyed in blood, casting the entire arena in an unsettling hue. The horizon was shrouded in red fog, and even the audience—though their roaring cheers could be heard—remained mostly invisible behind the haze. It created an eerie sense of isolation, as if Yesdar stood alone in this strange world, a gladiator prepared to face his destiny.
He felt the massive energy coming from the crowd, the vibrations of their collective excitement thrumming through the ground beneath his feet. Cameras zoomed in on him, projecting his image onto enormous screens scattered around the stadium. His face was now a giant presence for the masses, and though he remained composed, he could sense the electricity of millions of eyes locked on him.
The battleground was encircled by towering pillars that reached into the crimson sky made inside the arena, their presence both imposing and majestic. Resting atop the pillars was a ring of white stone—gleaming in stark contrast to the red atmosphere—symbolizing the official boundary for the fight. The arena ground was soft sand, which shifted slightly with every step Yesdar took. He glanced at the pillars, their symmetry almost hypnotic.
This place... it's bizarre, Yesdar thought, his eyes scanning the entire arena. The atmosphere's all wrong. This red fog doesn't possess any natural energy. I can hear the people, but I can't see them clearly. It's like this entire space is cut off from reality.
As Yesdar crossed the stone boundary and officially entered the battleground, his instincts sharpened. Something was off. He could feel it—a massive energy in front of him, but the red fog made it hard to see the source. His eyes narrowed, trying to pierce through the veil of mist.
There's definitely a large energy ahead, he thought, his pulse steady, his focus unshakable.
Suddenly, out of the dense red fog, a shadow began to take form. At first, it was just a silhouette—vague, yet undeniably massive. Yesdar's heart quickened slightly as the figure emerged fully into view.
It was a giant.
A hulking monstrosity of a man, standing at least 30 meters tall and 15 meters wide. His appearance was both ridiculous and intimidating—a walking contradiction. He wielded a sword that was over 10 meters long, its blade thick and gleaming under the red light. His helmet, shaped like a grotesque papaya, sat awkwardly on his oversized head, while his beard—long, black and white, and tangled—cascaded down his body, brushing against the ground as he moved. His metal vest barely fit, clinging to his massive torso as if it could rip apart at any moment. He wore golden, half-pants armor, which didn't suit him at all, making him look like an awkward jester rather than a noble warrior.
Despite his absurd appearance, the sheer size of the giant was enough to unsettle anyone.
"Is this guy for real? Oh, wait, is that why those entrances are so big and wide? Because there are giants like him who participate in competitions like these?" Yesdar muttered under his breath, the absurdity of his opponent dawning on him.
The giant stomped into the arena, shaking the very ground beneath him with each step. His presence was overwhelming—his every movement drawing the crowd's eyes, and the arena screens lit up with his image, zooming in on his intimidating figure.
"Yesdar-sama is going to fight... that?!" Virumi gasped, her eyes wide with shock as she watched from the preparation room. She turned to Malaes, who was watching through the glass window with a calm, calculating expression.
"How's he going to deal with a giant like that?" Virumi asked, panic creeping into her voice.
Malaes didn't break her gaze from the screen. "Keep watching. Yesdar may joke around... he may seem like a character who's carefree and lighthearted..." She paused, her eyes narrowing with fierce determination as a small grin spread across her face building the curiosity. "But he's also a person who hates to be mocked at." 🗿
Back in the arena, the commentator's voice boomed through the stadium, hyping up the crowd even further.
"Here he is, folks! One of the GOATS—one of the Giants Of All Time! From the noble warrior clan of the giants in Mordul Uls! Known as the weakest giant in his village, the one who can't even defeat a kid! But today, he's here to prove himself! To prove his strength in the grand arena! Give it up for Deraji Badeirow!"
The crowd roared, a wave of applause and cheers that shook the very pillars around the arena.
"And his opponent—tiny in comparison, but no less fierce—JESDALA!" the commentator bellowed, and the cheers swelled once more.
Yesdar could feel the thunderous applause and cheers vibrating through the ground, but his expression remained serious. His mind honed in on the giant in front of him, sizing him up.
Is he mocking me? Yesdar thought, irritation flickering in his eyes as he remembered the commentator's introduction.
The giant, Deraji, barked out a laugh—deep, booming, and full of arrogance. He looked down at Yesdar as if he were an insect, his enormous form casting a shadow over the battlefield. His voice was like a thunderclap as he spoke.
"I don't need to battle an opponent so weak and small!" Deraji bellowed, his voice full of disdain. "But since the rules say I must, I'll SMASH you, BASH you, CRASH you, SMACK you, THWACK you, WHACK YOU—ANAPSHANAPSHANAPSHANAPSHANAPSHANAP!!"
Does the competition even have rules?
Deraji threw his head back, laughing hysterically, shaking his helmet as he did so, his hands raised in triumph as if he had already won.
Back in the preparation room, Virumi was worried for her Yesdar-sama but Malaes, still calm and composed, said with a sly grin. "Just keep watching. This is going to be... entertaining."
Yesdar, meanwhile, had had enough of the giant's boastful posturing. With a fluid, effortless motion, he drew his black-handled katana, spinning it deftly in his fingers. The air around him shifted, and the sand beneath his feet seemed to dance as a sudden gust swept through the arena. His eyes glinted with a sharp intensity, and his presence, though small in comparison to the giant, commanded attention and fear.
The crowd hushed for a moment, mesmerized by the sheer style and confidence in Yesdar's movement.
His aura was overwhelming, and even the giant—despite his earlier bravado—felt the weight of it.
Yesdar's eyes narrowed, locking onto Deraji with a gaze that sent shivers down the spines of those watching. The message was clear: Underestimate me, and you won't live to regret it.
Deraji, feeling the sudden shift in the air, clenched his giant fists around the hilt of his sword. His laughter stopped, replaced by a growl of anger.
The giant's earlier amusement vanished. His expression twisted into one of pure fury. He was ready to smash him, bash him, crash him, smack him, thwack him and whack him.
Deraji's scream echoed through the arena, louder than the crowd's roars. His huge form, dwarfing everything around him, cast a monstrous shadow on the crimson sand. He sneered at Yesdar, towering over him with exaggerated confidence. "You dare try to scare me with your puny size? You're not even the size of my shit!" His voice boomed, his meaty hands gripping the oversized sword as he spun it with exaggerated flair. The giant was clearly trying to mimic Yesdar's earlier move, but it looked more comical than skillful—his clumsy movements failing to create the same aura of finesse.
Yesdar stood still, his coat billowing with perfect style, his presence an anchor of calm amid the chaos of the crowd. The red fog swirled around him like some eerie storm, but he remained unfazed, his eyes locked on Deraji. The background music of swag and style began to play on the speakers giving a theater-like feel. The atmosphere intensified. Indeed, how can I not make the difference? Yesdar thought to himself. He is a large energy... but not a very strong energy.
The crowd, though ecstatic, held an undertone of doubt. The idea of a fight between a normal-sized person and a giant felt unfair to many, yet somehow, the anticipation of what was about to unfold gripped them. Either the battle would be spectacular, or it would end in a blink. The air buzzed with tension. Every eye was locked on Yesdar.
Yesdar sensed the slow, almost languid movements of Deraji as he raised his colossal sword above his head. To Yesdar, it was all happening in slow motion, the giant's moves telegraphed from miles away. He's so slow… and he's not even trying to disguise it, Yesdar thought, his grip tightening on his sword. With a fluid motion, Yesdar spun his katana, the blade gleaming in the red haze. But then, as the crowd watched in confusion, he reversed his grip—holding the sword by the blade itself, with his thumb and index finger delicately placed on the non-sharp edges.
The audience's breath caught, their focus tightening like a coiled spring, wondering what Yesdar was about to do. Was he setting himself up for disaster? Was this the bold confidence of a master or the fatal mistake of an overconfident fool?
In a flash, Yesdar drew his arm back, poised as if to throw a spear. His movements were so precise that the sand at his feet shifted slightly, a whisper of a shockwave following the gesture. He inhaled slowly, as if preparing for something grand.
Malaes told me not to be too harsh, he thought to himself. Well, let's see if this works.
And then, with a snap of his arm, Yesdar hurled the sword handle-first toward Deraji with such speed that the air around him seemed to ripple. A soft shockwave rippled through the ground as the blade sliced through the air with impact—no longer a weapon, but a projectile of precision and power.
The crowd gasped.
In an instant, the sword's handle collided with the center of Deraji's forehead.
SMASH!!
The impact rang out like a thunderclap, sending a tremor through the ground. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the colossal giant was lifted off his feet by the sheer force of the blow. Deraji's massive frame flew through the air in slow motion, his limbs flailing awkwardly, his bearded face contorting in shock and disbelief.
The crowd's collective gasp grew louder, their jaws dropping in utter disbelief. Some stood from their seats, their eyes widening in awe. Even the commentator, who had been running his mouth with endless commentary, fell silent, his words caught in his throat.
Virumi, watching from the preparation room, stared at the screen, her hands gripping the edge of her seat so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Yesdar-sama…" she whispered, her voice filled with both amazement and concern.
Malaes, on the other hand, grinned, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She had expected something bold from Yesdar, but even this surpassed her expectations. Griswa, meanwhile, leaned casually against the wall, his eyes closed in nonchalance, as if the spectacle wasn't even worth watching.
THUD!
Deraji's gigantic body hit the ground with a bone-shattering impact, landing directly on his neck. The sound echoed through the arena, followed by an enormous cloud of dust and sand, obscuring the battlefield for a moment. The crowd was utterly silent, their minds reeling from what they had just witnessed. Deraji groaned in pain, his voice echoing weakly in the aftermath, but it was clear—he was done.
As the dust began to settle, Yesdar remained in the exact same position, not a single movement betraying any effort on his part. His coat billowed dramatically behind him, his hair tousled slightly by the wind as he stood tall, exuding a kind of effortless dominance. The sand swirled around him, creating an aura of mystery and power.
The stadium screens replayed the moment in slow motion, but even then, the speed of Yesdar's throw was nearly too fast for the cameras to capture. The sword handle had hit Deraji's forehead with such pinpoint accuracy that it seemed impossible, even when watched back in the clearest of slow-motion footage.
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices shaking the very pillars of the arena. The commentator, finally snapping out of his daze, began shouting excitedly into the microphone.
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS JUST HAPPENED?! DID YOU ALL SEE THAT?! THE GIANT, DERAJI BADEIROW, JUST FLEW THROUGH THE AIR—LIKE HE WAS MADE OF PAPER! WHAT IN THE HELL DID JESDALA JUST DO?!" His voice boomed over the crowd, struggling to match the intensity of the moment.
The replay continued on the screens, zooming in on the instant the sword handle connected with Deraji's forehead. The image was blurry, even with the camera slowed down to its maximum capacity. The sheer speed and force behind the strike had defied the technology of the arena's equipment.
"I… I mean, was that some kind of magic?! HOW DID HE DO THAT?! I'M AT A LOSS FOR WORDS!" The commentator was clearly struggling to make sense of the physics-defying moment. "And man! I have no idea how the physics worked here, but as I am not a fighter either, no comments at all. WHATEVER THAT WAS, IT WAS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!"
Yesdar, hearing the commentator's praise, couldn't help but smirk slightly. He stepped forward slowly, deliberately, toward his sword, which had fallen blade-first into the sand, standing upright like a gravestone. With a graceful motion, he reached out, grasping the hilt and pulling it free from the earth.
The crowd roared louder, their cheers mixing with whistles, shouts, and screams of admiration. The noise was deafening, filling the arena with an electric energy that seemed to ripple through the very air.
He won't continue. His neck's broken, Yesdar thought calmly, barely acknowledging the chaos around him. His senses, sharp as ever, were almost overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the crowd's reaction. But to him, it was just another victory.
With his sword now in hand, he turned on his heel and began walking back toward the alcove entrance, his pace unhurried, his demeanor calm and collected. Every step he took exuded an aura of silent power.
Being a weak braggart is problematic.
His coat, still billowing in the wind, added to his silhouette's dramatic presence. The background music seemed to shift to something deeper, more intense, as if the very universe recognized the swagger of Yesdar's walk, the sigma rule type shit. Each footfall was a note in a silent symphony, each step an expression of dominance.
Virumi, back in the preparation room, literally leaped from her seat, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "That was incredibly fantastic noi!! Do you get to see that from Yesdar-sama often?!"
Malaes, still watching from the window, replied with a smirk. "Well, well, he's Helezar Mackenadock. But I asked him not to show off. Guess the boys never pass up a chance to make a scene."
Virumi, still bubbling with excitement, pressed further. "Helezar Mackenadock? Oh yeah, Griswa mentioned that name before, back in the cave noi! What does it mean?"
Malaes, now slightly exasperated by Virumi's relentless questions, replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's just a made-up title. Don't think too hard about it."
"But if Yesdar-sama is Helezar Mackenadock, why did Griswa register as Helezar instead of him noi?" Virumi asked again, her curiosity relentless.
Malaes sighed, sweatdrops forming on the back of her head. "Trust me, trying to understand these boys is a lost cause. Let them deal with their own nonsense."
Meanwhile, in the arena, the commentator's voice boomed out again, filled with admiration.
"And with that, the man walks out in swag like a total badass!" 😏
Pronunciations:
Deraji Badeirow: [DAY]+[RAA]+[JEE]+[BAA]+[DAY]+[ROW]