Chapitre 166: 166. Blood Feud (I)
"We're coming at you live from the Five Season Stadium, the biggest stadium in the world!" roared Tyler. "To a sold-out crowd of fifty thousand!"
You could barely hear him through the noise. He sat in an announcer's booth overlooking a darkened arena stretching far, far below—to a single spotlighted stadium. The stands were packed, breathless, eager—every so often chants of "Zane! Zane! Zane!" would crop up.
One brother was a lot more popular than the other. If this were a movie, Zane Walker just looked like the hero. But Jason Walker was happy to play the heel.
"I've never seen anything like it!" said Becca, nodding next to him in the announcer's booth. "I'm being told the competitors are arriving now. Let's get a first look!"
The image changed to show the outside of the stadium, where black-robed guards in sunglasses fended off a roiling sea of people. Fording between them, walking up the red carpet, was a little group.
"Here comes the Luminous Faction!" Tyler announced.
There was Reina in a silky green dress, looking gorgeous, smiling warmly. She was on the arm of Zane Walker. Zane didn't even look at the crowd. He looked to Reina once, nodded at something she said, but that was all. He only had eyes for the entrance. His dark eyes shone with determination.
"If Zane's cracking under the pressure, he sure as hell isn't showing it," said Becca.
"He looks like a man on a mission," Tyler agreed. "And on the other side... the Empire Faction!"
Striding to a separate entrance was Jason Walker, grinning, soaking in the sights. D'Angelo Hall walked by his side—as did a horde of their other top officials, all World Rankers in their own right.
"Jason looks totally unfazed! Is he just that confident?" said Becca.
"You have to remember, every time they've fought before, Jason's won!" said Tyler. "Maybe he thinks he's in Zane's head."
"I wouldn't bet on it if I were him!" said Becca, frowning.
***
They were stationed under the stadium. You could hear a muffled sea of noise filtering through from above. Zane sat there silent.
It was a strange thing. The closer he got to the fight, the colder his anger got. It went from this thrumming hot vein of feeling to something swirling in the background. A sense of alertness, of shocking energy. He just felt awake.
Reina was telling him the kinds of tricks Jason would go for. Telling him the simple game plan—a game plan she really didn't like, but which she felt would give him the best chance of winning.
"Just be you," she said, holding his hand. "You've got this, okay?"
Zane nodded.
Soon they heard an announcer's voice boom out in the distance. A minute later, a bald official in pinstriped robes came into the locker room. He was nervous, sweating a little.
"Are you ready, sir?"
"Yes," grunted Zane.
"Very well! Just to brief you on the fight—it'll take place in our new-and-improved state-of-the-art sparring arena. Which means you'll need to wear this."
He pulled out a wristband.
𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕣 𝔹𝕒𝕟𝕕 (𝔸+)
It was made of some kind of extremely high-grade spirit steel. And the runes on it were some of the strongest Zane had ever seen.
"This'll track your health," said the official. "It'll also put your essence and Laws in harmony with the arena for the duration of the bout. It just makes your attacks easier for the arena to contain. Otherwise..."
The official chuckled. "Just one of your shots might break the whole thing! Even with our best Artificing."
Zane looked to Reina, who nodded. So he snapped it on. He had to consciously open up his soul to let it 'sync' with him.
"Alright," said the official. He checked his watch, gave a terse nod. "Let's go."
Reina gave him one last kiss.
He took off his shirt. They were to fight with no armor except the assigned trunks.
"...Are we going?" he said to the official, who looked a little dazed. Zane was used to it by now when he took off his shirt.
The official jerked. "Ehh—yes!"
Then they were off.
***
Zane walked down a long dark tunnel. Into the light.
The noises got louder and louder the closer he got. Until he was out in the open.
A spotlight glared down on him. For a moment, it was impossible to see. Then his eyes got used to it—a path leading from here all the way down to the arena.
The moment the light hit him—the moment they all saw him—thousands and thousands of cheers and shouts and gasps tumbled over him. He kept walking, wreathed in a sphere of brilliant white light.
He felt weirdly calm about the whole thing, now that he was close to it. Everything was fading away—and with this harsh glare, he couldn't see much of the crowd if he wanted to; they were lost in the darkness. Just a big long mass stretching up and up and up… By now his Sage Mind was good enough that he could limit its focus. He didn't need to get lost in that boiling mass that feeling.
All that mattered was the arena in front of him.
He could make out a big projection above. There was himself, stone-faced, with a health bar reading 100% underneath. And Jason on the other side, smirking, with the same bar.
A booming deep voice cut through the noise.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
It was a beaming silver-haired man standing in the middle of the arena. He wore glittery robes. His hair was done up in wax. "It's time! For the fight of the century! Are you READY?!"
The place exploded with noise—so loud it sounded like a real volcano exploding. Zane would've never guessed humans could make that much sound. But it all just washed over him. He kept walking.
The arena was a circle a hundred feet across. Bare and flat. The floor was a hard-packed black sand, ultra-dense with Earth Law. A painted line ran down the middle, dividing it in two.
And on the other side—through a matching bright spotlight—someone else was striding to the ring.
"The fighters are entering the ring… first, in the blue corner. The World Rank #2… Level 176… first to clear an A-ranked dungeon… the most World Ranker kills of any man in the world… the Blood Titan, Jason Walker!"
Up walked his brother.
Jason looked like a panther. Leanly muscled, powerful. Grinning, strolling, loose as if he was taking a walk in the park. He got some cheers—but lots of boos too. He stepped over the rune line and prowled the sands like a hungry predator.
He was much smaller than Zane remembered him.
Zane almost expected to feel uneasy looking at him. Maybe unsettled.
He just felt angry.
"And second… in the red corner… the World Rank #5… Level 156… the first in the world to Fuse two Elemental Laws… the only S-ranked Soul Talent in the world… widely regarded as the most powerful man alive… the Savage Sage, Zane Walker!"
There came a rising wave of cheers. Chants started up—"Zane! Zane! Zane!" Everywhere there was the stomping of feet. He even heard little fireworks go off in the crowd.
The spotlight was back on him again. A projection of him walking up popped up high above. He looked like a wall. Just a big calm block.
He stepped into the ring. The announcer stepped out—just as the rune circle flared up and a pale blue ward wall hemmed them in.
"Fighters, are you ready?" he called.
Zane nodded. So did Jason.
𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝟛𝟘 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕤…
Jason smirked at him from across the ring. "Brother! You've gotten bigger since we last met."
Zane stayed silent. Just looking at him.
"Why so quiet?" laughed Jason. "You've got nothing to say to me?"
A beat. Then—
"No," said Zane. And he clenched his fists.
Jason shrugged, got into a fighting stance of his own. His eyes narrowed. "So be it."
𝟛… 𝟚… 𝟙…
𝔹𝔼𝔾𝕀ℕ!
The moment it popped up there was a blood-red explosion on the other side of the ring. A blast of essence, like a rocket taking flight. And Jason was on him in an instant.
A ten-foot-tall scythe flashed to his hands in a bloody mist. The blade was a wicked black edge, stained red—and it flashed at him with so much bloody power it smoked essence like a pyre. It screamed like a banshee as it glided.
The Laws in that thing were on the edge of a Fusion. Grazing a concept—but not quite—shining with a peculiar Skill…
Zane clocked all of this later.
In the moment, it came too fast to block. To react at all.
He could only grunt as that blade swung down. And carved a bloody line down his bare chest.
That bleeding point sparked and screeched the moment it touched his skin—but the sheer brute force of it, the sheer essence of it, powered it through. Vicious red power poured into him. Tore down his chest, his belly, ending at the hip—and a line of blood fountained out of him.
Zane grunted. Turned to get at him—before another bloody crescent took him up the back. A piercing-hot line of pain, ripping him up—
At the same time he felt it sucking him away. The Steel in him, the Stormfire—wrestled into the metal. And the scythe shined ever-brighter; new foreign Laws played across its surface—
It carved into him a third time before he could even process it. It'd carved a bloody cross into him—three shots before he could so much as blink; and now Jason was in his face, blade flashing at his throat, stained bright red with his own blood, so close Zane could see the red streaking through the whites of his eyes, see the crazed grin on his face, hear that jeering laugh—
It felt like he'd been sucked into a whirlwind of pure pain.
He felt Jason's mind then. So clearly.
Jason knew—believed, deep down, Zane would stumble back. And Jason would chase, blade flashing, make Zane stumble—and fall on him like a lion on a wounded gazelle…
And all Zane felt after that was fury.
Zane didn't move a step.
Instead, he met his brother's gaze head-on.
He took in Jason's flicker of surprise.
And a new power rose over them both.
Two shining suns blotting out the projections, the lights, the ceiling—everything. Two spheres of dazzling blue-white—
Jason swerved to a skidding halt. He frowned, hissed; in a split-second he felt it coming, figured what Zane was doing. Halted, leaped away—but by then Zane had gotten a lock on him.
Apocalypse Smash slingshotted to earth.
But Jason felt it coming at the last moment. He veered away from it—
Right into the path of Zane's second Smash.
It struck like a meteor making landfall—Jason let out a furious roar.
The explosion rocked the arena. The light was blinding, smothering. For a few seconds, no one could see anything.
When the spots faded from everyone's eyes, they saw a smoking ruin. Gasps rang out through the stadium.
And there, in the middle of it, was a gasping Jason. Picking himself off the ground. Black burn marks were seared deep into him. Bloody whirlpools roamed his body, healing him, fighting off a few last wisps of Stormfire. He'd just managed to throw up a shield. Just managed to use his powers—and Zane's own—to power it… and yet…
He still had to stagger to his feet.
***
"Look at his Health!" roared Tyler. "He gave Zane three hard shots—and he's the one who came out worse!"
On the projection above, Zane's health bar was sitting around 85%. Jason, 80%.
The crowd roared their approval.
"Little brother takes the first exchange!" cried Becca. "But Jason still doesn't look fazed at all—he's smiling!"
Jason spat blood, snorted. By the expression on his face, you'd think nothing had happened.
This time, he came at Zane at a blistering pace. It made his first outburst look like a mild probe. The cheers turned to gasps.
And in seconds, four giant red lines carved straight through Zane's body. Tearing through huge swathes of hard muscle, down the chest, the arms, the legs, making the big man stagger and grunt—
But Zane's eyes stayed cold.
"He won't take a single step back!" gasped Becca. "He's just eating it!"
"But why!?" said Tyler. "Could it be a pride thing? Or—"
The Apocalypse Smashes burst above them again. Like homing missiles locking onto a target. Gathering power, growing brighter and brighter…
Jason roared. Swung and swung and swung, trying to chop Zane down, trying to force him back—but Zane stood there, head held high. And kept taking it head-on.
"What if it's a price he's willing to pay?!" said Becca.
At last, Jason let out a frustrated growl. He was forced to leap back—and the meteors swerved on him again. Blasting him into the sands. He let out a pained howl.
On one side, Zane stood there bleeding, panting….
But when Jason picked himself back up, half his body was smoking, blackened. Melting.
The health bars updated.
Zane—at 70%.
Jason, at 60%.
The crowd exploded in shouts, in cheers—and through it all the two brothers looked at each other with narrowed eyes.
"Zane had this planned all along!" cried Becca. "He knows he can't catch Jason's speed. So he waits for Jason to come in close and expose himself—and throw right back once he does! He's willing to take four shots just to land one!"
"Look at his expression," said Tyler, leaning over the desk wide-eyed. "Look what he's saying with his eyes! He's telling older brother, 'Do your worst. Because I can take it—and I'll give you that, and more!"
***
It was Reina's idea. The only thing was—the strategy hinged on one thing.
Zane couldn't hesitate. Couldn't flinch. He had to execute when the time came, and the lights were bright, and he was standing in the ring.
But of everyone Zane heard talking about the fight, only she never once doubted him.
Jason came at him again a third time like a rabid dog. And Zane was standing on a railing again over rushing waters, and that scythe flashed at him like dodgeballs—
But Zane wasn't a child anymore. He was just so much bigger now. They cut into him, and bounced off, and he weathered it still standing strong. Bleeding all over, but standing.
He fed Jason another two Smashes. Two angry smashes that drove Jason crying out into the black sand.
When Jason climbed out, he looked like the mangled survivor of a bomb blast. It was pretty clear which one of them came out worse.
And now Zane was at 60%. And Jason, 45%.
Jason coughed black blood. He was hobbling too; a leg had taken a good chunk of the blast and a knee looked weirdly caved in. He blinked at Zane in disbelief, like he wasn't sure who he was looking at anymore.
Then he laughed. "I see," croaked Jason. "You have changed, brother!"
His skin began swarming with red. His eyes flashed crimson. There was a slightly crazed look to them…
"But this is only the beginning. If you think—"
"Shut up," said Zane.
And he took a step. Then another. The ground trembled under him as he advanced on his older brother.
He clenched his bloody fists—and Stormfire erupted down his hands.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone