Leon's POV:
Arena 4
The roar of the crowd was a distant hum as I faced my opponent, Private Theo Rika.
He was older, maybe in his late Teens, with a build that suggested strength over speed. I looked calm, a stark contrast to Daniel's panic earlier.
I pulled my magi-steel katana from its sheath, feeling the familiar weight, I lost all fear and thought of nothing but my opponent
"Ready, Cadet Bartfort?" Theo asked, his voice even.
"Don't hold back; the Serg wouldn't want that."he said pointing at Sergeant Barnes
"Yes, Private," I replied, my hair turned into three distinct colors, blue, yellow and blue,my eyes glowed those who could see them would notice that they would be shifting between green, yellow and blue, showing I had activated my grace.
The mana in my soul was stirred from its slumber and responded.
I began using an art we were taught where a natural expelled mana from their soul into their body, opening space in their soul for more mana needed for refinement, but I couldn't keep that up for long.
focusing my mana, I manipulated the air to create static electricity around my hands.
A clap from the stands signaled the start.
Theo didn't rush. Instead, his body sunk slightly, and the ground around his feet turned dark and moist, his back had a faint glow coming from his tattoo. His Artificial Rank B Mud Grace activated, a low hum filling the air as he started to manipulate the environment. Small mounds of wet earth began to rise around him, a rudimentary defense.
I, on the other hand, needed to move. My Rank C Storm Grace favored mobility. I pushed my mana out, not as a blast, but to manipulate the air in the arena to a current of air around my body.
My speed instantly doubled, a whoosh sound effect accompanying my charge. In the past, I would have charged in headlong, but five years of Barnes's training taught me tactics.
Theo was ready. He stomped his foot, and the mud around me rose in an instant, solidifying into a sticky, waist-high wall designed to slow my momentum. A smart move.
I didn't stop. With a flick of my wrist, the air around my katana sharpened into a focused wind blade. I sliced through the mud wall effortlessly, the sharpened air carving a path through the sloppy earth.
"Your move, Private," I thought, as I closed the distance, aiming a swift kick for his midsection.
Theo caught my leg with a solid arm. He was strong, stronger than expected. His hand started to sink into my Carbonan armor, a precursor to turning the material brittle or making me sink into the mud.
"Not today!" , me and Lex were born with stronger bodies and after years of having to hold back, we had a bit of a hard time using our full strength because of the fear of hurting others.
But seeing that he could manage,
I growled and using my full strength while channeling lightning into my leg.
A crackle of blue energy jolted through Theo's arm. He flinched, pulling back his hand, his expression a mix of pain and surprise. "Nasty, and Strong" he muttered, shaking his electrified limb.
We exchanged blows for a while after that, but you could see that I was the only one who was giveing it their all, while he took it easy,
'he's going to regret that' I thought
I used an I created an opening due to his negligence to create a localized sonic boom—a small, sharp CRACK near his ear—a Sound Manipulation tactic. Theo reeled, disoriented. I didn't wait. A torrent of hardened water droplets pulled from the air (if I could create water I would have been done quicker) , like a barrage of tiny bullets (Water Manipulation), forced him onto the defensive, pushing him back toward the edge of the arena.
My final attack: a flash of lightning. Not a massive strike, but a focused bolt from my katana. Theo, still off-balance and deafened by the sound attack, threw up a hurried mud shield, but it wasn't enough. The lightning bypassed his defensive field and struck his chest piece, making him collapse with a final ZAP that momentarily illuminated the arena.
Silence, followed by a roar from the stands.
"Winner, Cadet Leon fou Bartfort!" Sergeant Barnes announced, a hint of pride in his gruff voice.
I stood there wheezing for air with a hand held high.