Kosmo turned slowly, his calm and unreadable expression fixed on Alexander. The other man stood tall, his armor gleaming under the chamber's ambient light, reflecting an almost ethereal glow that emphasized his imposing presence. Alexander's smirk widened as he flexed his shoulders, his exaggerated movements drawing attention to the radiant white aura emanating from the white gem embedded in his chestplate. The gem pulsed with a steady, calming hum, its radiant light casting a serene yet imposing glow over the battlefield. The gem's energy rippled subtly across the surface of his armor, its light steady and unwavering, offering a stark contrast to the chaos of the match.
"Let's make this quick," Alexander declared, his voice booming with the confidence of a man who had spent years honing his craft. He threw a few mock jabs, the motion deliberate and calculated to draw the crowd's attention. "You're looking at discipline, precision, and a whole lot of experience," he added, posing for effect, his armored frame radiating a self-assured dominance. Secure in his own mind, he stepped forward, arms raised slightly, as if already certain of the outcome.
The humans around the room instinctively stepped back, widening the space between the two men. Behind them, the dais with its strange weapons loomed, casting faint, otherworldly glows that heightened the room's surreal tension. Nervous whispers rippled through the group, their unease growing with every word that left Alexander's lips, his bravado clashing against Kosmo's unnerving silence.
"What's wrong?" Alexander taunted, his arms spreading wide in a display of exaggerated confidence. "Too scared to make the first move?" He jabbed a finger toward Kosmo, his mocking grin stretching wider. "Don't worry, I'll teach you a thing or two before I put you down."
Kosmo remained still, his posture relaxed yet poised. His silence seemed to amplify the tension, the weight of his calm demeanor an unspoken challenge that only further stoked Alexander's irritation.
"Too scared to even speak?" Alexander spat, his tone biting. "Figures. Don't worry, I'll make it quick."
Without warning, Alexander charged, his armored frame barreling forward with reckless speed. The humans gasped, their startled voices mingling in confusion and disbelief. At the last possible moment, Kosmo shifted to the side with a motion so fluid it seemed effortless, allowing Alexander to stumble past him. The soldier skidded to a halt, his frustration evident as he whirled around to face Kosmo, a scowl darkening his features.
Lady Altaris's serene posture faltered only slightly, her crystalline gaze narrowing as she observed Alexander's impatience. Beside her, the crimson-clad figure stepped forward. His very presence commanded reverence, his robes shimmering like molten fire, their intricate gold patterns glowing faintly with celestial light. Each deliberate movement spoke of authority, as though he bore the weight of countless worlds upon his shoulders.
Raising a hand, the crimson figure spoke, his voice deep and resonant, echoing with an almost primal authority. "Enough. This match shall not proceed without the sanction of the Twelve, for we are the arbiters of all that transpires here." His golden eyes swept over the two men, lingering on Alexander's defiant stance. "I am Ignathar, Sovereign of the Crimson Dominion, and Keeper of Eternal Accords. You stand beneath my judgment. Obey the rules, or abandon the honor of the Valcris and suffer the weight of our disdain."
Ignathar's words carried such weight that even Alexander hesitated, his bravado momentarily faltering as he glanced at the Sovereign with a mix of confusion and indifference. To Alexander, the title of 'Sovereign' felt theatrical—a term better suited to dictatorships or ceremonial leaders. He dismissed the gravity of it, equating Ignathar's authority to that of a prime minister or president, unworthy of his respect.
Ignathar's hand rose again, the gesture imbued with a deliberate grandeur that seemed to dim the chamber's light, leaving his fiery robes as the room's sole radiance. "Hear me," he intoned, his voice resonating like a tolling bell. "This is no simple trial of strength or skill—it is a reckoning of existence itself. The Valcris demands your very essence, your will to survive against the weight of eternity. To falter is to be consumed by oblivion. To prevail is to ascend, your worth etched among the constellations."
Alexander assumed this was a sparring match, a test of experience and aggression rather than brute strength. The creeping uncertainty unsettled him, but his arrogance refused to let it take root. He shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside. None of it mattered—not the Twelve, not their cryptic rules—as long as he won. As long as he went home.
His fists tightened as he readied himself once more. "Doesn't change a thing," he muttered dismissively, his focus locked on Kosmo, ignoring the Sovereign's words as irrelevant pomp.
As Ignathar's hand dropped with solemn finality, the air seemed to ripple with a charged energy, as though the chamber itself exhaled in anticipation. "Let the Valcris ignite the stars and shape your fates," he intoned, his voice reverberating with an almost celestial cadence that carried the weight of inevitability.
Kosmo's stance shifted, his feet adjusting with the fluidity of a seasoned fighter. Alexander wasted no time, charging forward with a burst of wild energy. His first punch, aimed at Kosmo's face, missed entirely as Kosmo ducked and stepped aside with effortless precision.
"You're really pissing me off," Alexander growled, his frustration boiling over as he swung again, this time with even more force. Kosmo leaned back, the movement fluid and effortless, letting the blow pass harmlessly by. The humans exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring to one another, their discomfort mounting as Alexander's strikes grew more erratic and desperate with each attempt.
Alexander roared, his movements growing wild and reckless. Each charge became less controlled as he pressed forward, his focus narrowing to Kosmo's calm, evasive form. Kosmo continued to dodge with deliberate precision, each step calculated to waste no energy. It was a dance of precision versus brute force, and the stark contrast did not go unnoticed by the onlookers.
"Fight me, damn it!" Alexander roared, his voice reverberating off the chamber walls.
Lady Altaris watched with faint amusement, her crystalline gaze sparkling with intrigue. Ignathar remained still, his golden eyes fixed on Kosmo, his expression unreadable but sharp with focus.
Finally, Alexander lunged with a wide, heavy punch aimed squarely at Kosmo's head. This time, Kosmo stepped into the attack, ducking under the arc of the punch with precise timing. He wrapped his arms tightly around Alexander's waist, his movements fluid and practiced. With a swift pivot, Kosmo maneuvered behind Alexander, keeping low and maintaining control. Before Alexander could react, Kosmo torqued his hips and pulled sharply, using the soldier's momentum against him. The motion sent Alexander sprawling forward, crashing to the ground with a forceful thud that reverberated through the chamber. Without hesitation, Kosmo shifted his position, pinning Alexander with controlled pressure that immobilized him and showcased his mastery of positional dominance.
The impact reverberated through the chamber, drawing gasps from the humans. Alexander writhed, his face flushed with anger as he twisted and thrashed. With a roar of frustration, he summoned every ounce of brute strength and shoved Kosmo away, forcing the smaller man off him. Kosmo offered no resistance, stepping back fluidly and maintaining his composure as Alexander scrambled to his feet, his breaths heavy and his expression twisted with fury.
"You think this means anything?" Alexander spat, his voice hoarse with exertion. "I'll break you, I swear it!"
Alexander straightened, his breaths heaving as the white aura of his armor intensified, the white gem at his chest flaring with a radiant, rhythmic energy. The steady hum of the gem filled the air, resonating with his growing confidence, as though the armor sought to amplify his bravado. Despite the takedown, he smirked, dismissing it as a fluke. "Not bad for an amateur," he sneered. "But come on, show me you've got more than borrowed moves."
Kosmo surged forward, his movements a blur of controlled aggression. The variable-hued gems embedded in his gauntlets began to shift subtly with each strike, their colors cycling between deep crimson, icy blue, and shadowy green, reflecting the ebb and flow of Kosmo's emotions and focus. The aura surrounding the gauntlets pulsed faintly, a quiet yet commanding energy that seemed to amplify with his precision. With each precise motion, the gems seemed to respond, exuding a raw intensity that hinted at unleashed potential. The light spread along the contours of the sleek metal, and as the material around his hands tightened into wraps resembling those of a seasoned boxer, the aura flared briefly with every precise strike, as though the gauntlets themselves were alive. He delivered a rapid series of strikes to Alexander's torso, each blow landing with sharp precision. The chamber echoed with the metallic thuds of gauntlet against armor, but Alexander barely registered the impacts. To him, it felt like raindrops on steel.
"That's it?" Alexander jeered, his confidence swelling as he stood tall. "You might as well be tickling me! Keep going if you think you've got something better—I've got all day."
The Twelve leaned forward in unison, their expressions a mixture of amusement and fascination. The pulsating colors of the gems caught their attention, each hue—crimson and white—interplaying within the charged air. Their radiant gazes reflected the growing spectacle, their delight at the combat palpable. Lady Altaris allowed a faint smile to touch her lips, while Ignathar nodded slightly, his golden eyes gleaming with approval. The humans whispered among themselves, their voices blending awe and skepticism.
"He's not even hurting him," someone murmured, their tone laced with disbelief.
"No," another replied, their voice quieter but sharper with insight. "He's testing him. Watch how deliberate his movements are."
Lightning quick, Kosmo shifted. The gems on his gauntlets flared brilliantly, their hues shifting unpredictably as the light streaked through the air. Each strike left a trail of color—fiery crimson, icy blue, and silvery whispers—an echo of the gauntlets' reactive nature, as though they were alive and resonating with Kosmo's intent. The aura of the gauntlets pulsed brighter with each calculated movement, the colors blending and separating like a living canvas. It was as if the weapons reveled in the combat, their energy responding to Kosmo's every thought and motion with an almost sentient harmony. Kosmo observed Alexander closely, noticing how his opponent's confidence swelled with every seemingly ineffective strike.Alexander's guard dropped entirely, his dismissive smirk growing wider. Seizing the moment, Kosmo shifted his stance with lightning speed, the hues of his gauntlets coalescing into a brilliant crimson glow. With calculated precision, he delivered a devastating hook to Alexander's jaw. The crimson energy discharged upon impact, radiating heat and force like an explosive inferno. The impact resonated through the chamber, the fiery aura leaving a blazing afterimage as Alexander's head snapped violently to the side, his body tumbling across the floor in a chaotic sprawl. The impact snapped Alexander's head to the side, sending him sprawling across the chamber floor. A sharp, collective gasp rose from the crowd, followed by ripples of laughter from the Twelve. Their amusement was palpable, their approval unmistakable.
Lady Altaris's crystalline gaze lingered on Kosmo, a glimmer of satisfaction evident in her eyes. "Impressive," she remarked softly, her voice carrying with ease through the chamber. "The gauntlets respond to his discipline."
Alexander groaned, his vision blurring as he struggled to his feet. His movements were slower now, more deliberate, as if the blow had shaken not just his body but his confidence. Kosmo remained still, his posture relaxed but vigilant, his sharp eyes locked onto his opponent. He made no move to press the attack, instead watching with an intensity that sent an unspoken message: Your move.
Ignathar inclined his head slightly, his expression as impenetrable as the ancient constellations themselves. "A contest worth observing," he declared, his voice rich with approval and layered with unspoken expectations. The gems within the gauntlets pulsed faintly, their hues shifting in a mesmerizing dance of crimson, blue, and green, as though feeding off the growing tension. Meanwhile, the white gem in Alexander's armor cast a steady, calming glow, its light contrasting starkly against the dynamic energy of Kosmo's gauntlets. "Let us see what unfolds under the light of the Valcris."