The fluorescent lights above cast an eerie glow across the polished club floors, creating shadows that danced along the walls. The night had already taken an unexpected turn, but fate wasn't done with its surprises. The air itself seemed charged with an otherworldly energy, a harbinger of the confrontation to come.
The polished floors gleamed under the artificial lighting, their surface so pristine they reflected the scene about to unfold like a dark mirror. The space around them felt confined yet expansive, as if reality itself was holding its breath in anticipation.
"Hold on! Not so fast!" The commanding voice sliced through the air from behind them, carrying an authority that made the atmosphere grow thick with tension. The words seemed to reverberate off the walls, each syllable heavy with unspoken threat.
Raxa, maintaining his composure, turned around slowly, his movements deliberate and controlled. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the approaching figure with practiced precision. "Who are you?" His tone remained level, betraying neither concern nor surprise, though his muscles tensed imperceptibly, ready for whatever might come.
The figure emerging from the shadows carried himself with the confidence of someone who had never tasted defeat. Each step was purposeful, measured, as if the very ground beneath should feel honored to bear his weight. "I'm a mercenary named Arashi Bluer," he declared, each word carefully measured, his voice carrying the weight of countless victories and spilled blood.
Larry's face transformed instantly, the color draining from his features as recognition hit him. His hands trembled slightly, and sweat began to bead on his forehead as he asked, "Why would someone like you be here for such a small deal?" His voice carried the tremor of someone who had just realized they were standing in the presence of a legend – albeit a deadly one.
A predatory smile played across Arashi's face, the expression making him appear even more dangerous. "Money speaks that's why." The simplicity of his answer made it all the more chilling, suggesting that no job was too small if the price was right, no life too insignificant if it came with a proper payment.
Raxa glanced at Larry, noting his companion's obvious distress. The fear radiating from Larry was palpable, adding another layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. "Do you know him?" The question was almost rhetorical, given Larry's reaction, but Raxa needed to understand the full scope of what they were facing.
"Who doesn't!" Larry's voice cracked slightly, his words tumbling out in a rush of fearful respect. "He's the clan master of the Arashi clan and he's the 147th clan master of the Arashi clan." The reverence and fear in his voice spoke volumes about the reputation of the man standing before them. Each word seemed to add weight to Arashi's presence, making the air itself feel heavier.
Raxa's eyes traced the intricate patterns decorating Arashi's exposed skin, studying each line and curve as if reading a deadly manuscript. The tattoos seemed to shift and move in the flickering light, telling stories of power and violence. "Then what's with such flashy tattoos on his body?"
Larry's response came quickly, almost rehearsed, as if reciting from memory, his words carrying the weight of ancient lore. "Those are no ordinary tattoos, it's a sign that the clan has a strong master, the more the tattoo on his body, the more the power, and the more the obedience." His explanation hung in the air, adding another layer of mystique to their formidable opponent.
"Is that so!" Raxa's words hung in the air as he took in the full measure of their opponent, his gaze analytical and unimpressed despite the impressive display before him.
Arashi stood before them, a living embodiment of power and intimidation. His muscular frame seemed to pulse with barely contained energy, each movement deliberate and precise, suggesting years of refined combat experience. The spiky, deep blue-purple hair caught the light, creating an almost otherworldly effect that complemented his fierce appearance. But it was his eyes that commanded attention – striking red orbs that seemed to glow with an inner fire, promising violence and destruction.
The tattoos that covered his face and upper body weren't mere decorations; they seemed alive, shifting slightly in the dim light as if responding to their master's power. Each marking told a story of battles won and enemies defeated, a living chronicle of violence etched into his skin. His dark clothing, deliberately chosen to leave his chest exposed, served as a canvas for these mystical markings, each one pulsing with an inner light that spoke of contained power.
In his grip, a knife-like weapon crackled with blue lightning-like energy, casting occasional sparks that illuminated the space around him. The weapon itself seemed to respond to its master's touch, the energy flowing through it intensifying with each passing moment. The air around him crackled with potential energy, making the hair on the back of Larry's neck stand on end.
"Yes! Take it all in," Arashi taunted, his voice carrying a hint of amusement at Raxa's scrutiny. The words carried decades of confidence born from countless victories and an undefeated record that stretched back through years of combat.
Raxa's response was swift and dismissive, cutting through Arashi's aura of invincibility like a blade through silk. "Too bad! You also can't defeat me." The words were delivered with such casual certainty that they seemed to momentarily shake Arashi's confident demeanor.
"How judgemental of you indeed," Arashi replied, his red eyes narrowing slightly, the glow intensifying with his rising anger. "But let's hope it's a worthwhile fight for both of us." The threat in his words was clear, promising a display of power that few had witnessed and even fewer had survived.
The air grew heavy with anticipation as both warriors sized each other up. The moment stretched, neither making a move, the tension building like a storm about to break. The fluorescent lights seemed to dim, as if even they were cowering from the impending clash of powers. Then, suddenly, Arashi launched forward with frightening speed, his movement leaving afterimages in the air.
His weapon cut through the air in a horizontal arc, aimed at Raxa's midsection with deadly precision, the blue energy trailing behind it like a comet's tail. But Raxa wasn't there anymore, having moved with a speed that made Arashi's attack seem sluggish in comparison.
The miss seemed to ignite something in Raxa. With a movement too fast for the ordinary eye to follow, he struck Arashi's chest with just two fingers. The impact, despite its seemingly minimal nature, sent the clan master flying backward, his body moving at an unbelievable speed before coming to a stop. A spray of crimson escaped his lips, painting the club's polished floors in a grotesque pattern that reflected the overhead lights like a macabre mirror.
Arashi's mind screamed for action, but his body refused to respond. It was as if his very existence had been temporarily severed from his physical form, leaving him trapped in a prison of flesh that no longer acknowledged his commands. The sensation was alien to someone who had always maintained perfect control over his body, making the experience all the more terrifying.
"I wouldn't move if I were you," Raxa advised, his voice calm and clinical, as if he were discussing the weather rather than having just defeated one of the most feared warriors in existence. "I struck your chest in a secret martial art strike so you are gonna stay like this for an hour or two." The casual way he delivered this information only emphasized the vast gulf between their levels of power.
Larry's eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape as he witnessed the impossible become reality before his eyes. "What power do you possess truly," he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's beyond horrifying that the Thunderbird clan Arashi's, Arashi Bluer was defeated by you that easily. He's killed at least more than five to six hundred people off records." The fear and awe in his voice painted a picture of Arashi's bloody history, making his defeat all the more shocking.
Raxa's response was filled with cold confidence, each word dropping like stones into a still pond. "So what! His clan is compared to the Thunderbird but in my case, I'm the dragon itself." The declaration wasn't boasting—it was simply stating a fact, one that had just been proven beyond any doubt.
"Who are you?" Arashi managed to ask, his voice strained with effort and humiliation. The question carried more weight than its simple words suggested—it was the desperate query of a man whose world view had just been shattered.
"Join me and we'll find out," Raxa offered, his tone suggesting this was both a genuine offer and a command. The proposition hung in the air, heavy with implications and possibilities.
"Join you!?" Arashi's pride flared briefly, a last spark of defiance in the face of total defeat. "I'm unbeatable." The words sounded hollow even as he spoke them, contradicted by his current helpless state.
In response, Raxa picked up one of Arashi's fallen weapons and pressed it against its owner's throat. The weapon's blue energy crackled against its former master's skin, adding cruel irony to the situation. "Then die!" The ultimatum was delivered with the same casual certainty that had characterized all of Raxa's actions.
The moment stretched taut as Arashi wrestled with his options. Pride warred with survival instinct, but in the end, practicality won out. He accepted the offer, though his mind was already plotting revenge. He would learn this man's secrets, understand the power that had so easily defeated him, and then, when the moment was right, he would strike. The humiliation of this defeat would be repaid with interest.
Larry stood in awe of the scene before him, still struggling to process how the legendary Thousand Volts had been brought so low. His stunned expression didn't go unnoticed by Arashi, who found himself in the unusual position of offering comfort to someone else while dealing with his own defeat.
"Don't be so down on yourself," Arashi offered, his voice carrying a hint of newfound respect. "If this fellow Raxa has taken a shine on you you're indeed special."
However, seeing Larry's yet continued uncertainty, he added, "You know Larry, Argon wanted to counter his sacrifice by killing you to not let that power be transferred to that either you or that Raxa fellow over there in future. That's why Raxa himself had killed him since he knew that Argon would have the guts to do that to spoil his plan and take the power to be transferred to himself but that's not the issue here. The main point is that Raxa found you worthier to be kept alive more than Argon so you must respect that part."
The revelation hit Larry like a physical force, and his face lit up with understanding and appreciation. In that moment, the dynamics of power and loyalty in the room shifted irreversibly, setting the stage for events that would reshape their world in ways none of them could yet imagine.
The club's lights continued to flicker overhead, casting alternating patterns of light and shadow across the three figures—the dragon, the thunderbird, and the chosen one—each now bound together by fate and the promises of power yet to come.
The polished floor beneath them reflected their images, creating a mirror world where their alliance was sealed in both reality and reflection, a testament to the momentous nature of what had just transpired.
The new night air, charged with the remnants of power from their brief but decisive confrontation, seemed to whisper of changes to come.
The world had shifted on its axis, and though none could yet predict the consequences, all knew that nothing would ever be quite the same again.