Capítulo 62: The Duel of Fates
The atmosphere in the colossal Colosseum was electric, charged with anticipation as two formidable warriors faced off in a battle that was whispered to be legendary. Jikirukuto, known for his unmatched speed and agility, stood ready, his eyes reflecting a determination that was as unwavering as the ancient stones beneath his feet. Across from him loomed Darktraitor, a behemoth of a man whose level of power, 1594, was almost mythical. The crowd held its breath, sensing that they were about to witness a confrontation that would be etched in the annals of history.
In a display of sheer will and mastery over his body, Jikirukuto eschewed the use of his shield, a decision that sent murmurs rippling through the crowd. He was about to engage in hand-to-hand combat with Darktraitor, a decision that seemed as bold as it was reckless. Yet, in Jikirukuto's mind, there was no doubt. He needed to prove not just to those who watched but to himself that his strength lay not in his weapons or artifacts but in his spirit and his flesh.
The battle commenced with Jikirukuto charging forward, his movements a blur to the untrained eye. He danced around Darktraitor, his strikes precise, each blow carrying the weight of his resolve. Darktraitor, surprised by Jikirukuto's bold strategy, responded with ferocious swings of his sword, each one capable of cleaving the earth itself. But Jikirukuto, moving with the grace of the wind, evaded each attack, his body bending and weaving through the air with a fluidity that was mesmerizing.
It was then that Jikirukuto unveiled his secret ability, "He causes to become." With a touch, he could alter the essence of things, transforming their nature. His hands became instruments of change, each contact with Darktraitor's armor weakening its structure, making it brittle. Jikirukuto's understanding of this power was profound; he knew that the true strength of a warrior lay in the ability to adapt, to transform.
The battle escalated, with Jikirukuto's speed and technique pitted against Darktraitor's raw power and dark energies. The arena became a vortex of chaos, with the two fighters at its center. Jikirukuto, embracing the very essence of his ability, struck with precision, his hands finding the seams of Darktraitor's living armor. With each touch, the armor cried out, its sentient nature recoiling from Jikirukuto's transformative power.
In a final, monumental effort, Jikirukuto unleashed the full might of his ability, his hands striking the chest piece of Darktraitor's armor with a force that was both physical and metaphysical. The armor, unable to withstand the transformative power, shattered, sending shards flying in all directions like a storm of deadly projectiles.
One shard, animated with a malevolent life of its own, flew with lethal precision towards Elysia, who had been freed from her imprisonment but now stood vulnerable. The shard, sharp as the edge of night and fast as a bullet, pierced the air, heading straight for Elysia. In a tragic trajectory, it penetrated her mid-scalp, burrowing through skull and brain with a velocity and force that was horrifying. The impact was gruesome, a scene reminiscent of the most brutal fatalities in mortal combat, as the shard, guided by the living will of the shattered armor, sought to claim one last victim in its death throes.
The arena fell silent, the cheers turning to gasps and then to a deafening silence as Elysia collapsed, the shard of living armor having wrought its final, fatal blow. Jikirukuto stood amidst the carnage, his victory over Darktraitor hollow as he witnessed the fall of Elysia. The realization that the battle had claimed an innocent life, through the very power he had wielded, weighed heavily on him.
The crowd, once hungry for spectacle, now watched in stunned silence as Jikirukuto, with a heart heavy with grief and eyes burning with unspoken vows, approached Elysia. He knelt beside her, his warrior's resolve now a solemn promise to seek retribution not just for the battles fought in the arena but for the lives shattered by its violence.
As he lifted Elysia's lifeless body, the arena, once a stage for his triumph, became a tomb for his sorrow. Jikirukuto's departure from the Colosseum was not that of a victor basking in glory but a guardian bearing the weight of loss and the burden of a journey ahead filled with uncertainty and the quest for redemption.
The gates of the Colosseum closed behind him, marking not the end of a battle but the beginning of a legend. A legend not of victory, but of sacrifice; not of power, but of responsibility. And as the shadows lengthened, casting the arena into twilight, the story of Jikirukuto and Elysia became a tale whispered in the corners of the world, a reminder of the cost of power and the true meaning of strength.
The cacophony of the crowd's cheers clashed with the turmoil within Jikirukuto's heart. Their jubilation, fueled by the spectacle they had witnessed, was a stark contrast to the somber reality unfolding in the arena's center. Elysia, innocent and now gravely wounded, lay motionless in his arms. The crowd saw a victor in Jikirukuto; he saw himself as anything but.
With a heavy heart, he turned to face the multitude, his voice cutting through the noise, trying to convey a truth they were not ready to hear. "Elysia is not your enemy!" he proclaimed, his words carrying the weight of his conviction. But his plea fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the roar of celebration and the thirst for entertainment that had blinded them to the tragedy that had unfolded.
Frustration and sorrow mingled within Jikirukuto as he realized the futility of his attempts to enlighten the crowd. They saw the world in absolutes, good versus evil, with no room for the nuances that defined the true nature of conflict. In their eyes, Elysia was guilty by association, a casualty of war unworthy of their compassion.
With a resolve forged in the fires of adversity, Jikirukuto made his decision. He would not waste further breath on those who could not, or would not, see the truth. Elysia's life, though hanging by a thread, was precious, and he would not allow her to become a footnote in the Colosseum's bloody history. Gently lifting her, he began to walk, each step a testament to his unwavering determination.
The crowd's cheers faded into the background as Jikirukuto stepped out of the arena's oppressive confines, the open sky a balm to his wounded spirit. The air outside seemed fresher, untainted by the bloodlust that had saturated the Colosseum. In the quiet that followed, Jikirukuto's thoughts were his only companions, each one a mix of regret, resolve, and an unspoken vow to right the wrongs that had led to this moment.
Elysia, in her unconscious state, was oblivious to the turmoil around her and the journey that lay ahead. Jikirukuto, however, was acutely aware of the burden he now shouldered. He knew that the road to redemption was fraught with challenges, but he was prepared to face them head-on. He had to, for Elysia's sake and for his own.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the land, Jikirukuto's silhouette merged with the twilight. The Colosseum, with its echoes of glory and tragedy, receded into the distance, a chapter closed in the saga of his life. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also the possibility of healing and hope.
In the quiet that enveloped him, Jikirukuto made a silent vow. He would heal Elysia, not just her physical wounds but the scars that ran deeper. And together, they would seek out a new destiny, one not written in the blood of the arena but in the bonds of trust and the strength found in forgiveness.
The path ahead was shrouded in mystery, the future uncertain. Yet, as the stars began to pierce the veil of night, Jikirukuto knew one thing for certain: he was not alone. In Elysia, he had found a cause worth fighting for, a companion in a world that had shown them both the depths of despair and the heights of courage.
As the chapter of their ordeal in the Colosseum came to a close, a new chapter awaited, filled with challenges and opportunities. The journey would be long, the battles hard fought, but in the end, Jikirukuto believed they would emerge not just as survivors, but as victors in a fight for a better tomorrow.
[To be continued...]
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