Ali exploded forward like a fired railgun, a thunderclap of displaced air erupting behind him as the soles of his boots dug into the sand. A dense plume of dust erupted in his wake, trailing him like a comet tail as he tore across the arena floor. Within just two seconds, he was at the centre, his black hoodie rippling violently from the momentum.
On the opposite side, Philip, the Dice Devil, inhaled deeply—unnaturally so—until his massive chest expanded like an overfilled balloon. His thick blonde beard fluttered as he opened his mouth and exhaled with force.
VOOOOOOOOOOM
A roaring gust of wind, shot toward Ali like a cannon blast. The sudden onslaught ripped up sand and flung it through the air in thick waves.
Ali didn't flinch. He raised the spear with one hand and with his other, extended a palm.
'Force Push.'
He used only a sliver of his Spirit—precise, controlled. The invisible barrier of telekinetic energy burst from his palm and met the raging wind like two invisible titans colliding. The gust shattered apart like glass hitting a stone wall, its force redirected and dispersed as the remaining wind fluttered past Ali's legs harmlessly.
Philip didn't wait for the dust to settle.
The hulking Frenchman broke into a run—no, a charge. The sheer weight of his steps sent vibrations through the arena floor, every stomp thudding like a war drum. The green runes on his brass knuckles pulsed with power, and the golden glow on his skin shimmered brighter under the arena lights.
The floating dice above his head began to spin slowly, each rotation filled with tension like a loaded chamber in a revolver.
Ali didn't back down. His mind was calculating, his instincts sharp. With fluid grace, he yanked the thousand-mile chain in a blur of motion.
CRACK—SWISH
The chain whipped around Philip with astonishing speed, the spear slicing through the air like a serpent of steel. Ali tugged hard, guiding the chain to curl around Philip's path like a trap waiting to snap.
But Philip didn't flinch.
The Dice Devil simply kept barreling forward, his lips curled into a madman's grin. He was used to watching opponents falter when faced with the sheer inevitability of his charge. Not many could look seven feet of magically augmented, luck-bolstered muscle in the face and remain composed.
Ali's eyes narrowed.
SNAP! POW!
The chain whipped backward under Ali's control, the tail end slicing straight into Philip's exposed side—aimed perfectly at the liver. The sound of the impact echoed sharply, a brutal whip crack against flesh.
At the same moment, the dice above Philip's head spun rapidly and stopped.
A six.
Ali's eyes sharpened. Philip didn't even wince. It was as if the spear hit a wall of air, the blow absorbed without a mark. The rune-inscribed brass knuckles flared green. The glow surrounding Philip intensified slightly, reacting to the lucky roll.
'So it has damage reduction too… Just what did he do to get something like that?' Ali thought, pulling the chain back quickly.
He didn't let the moment slip away.
Ali's hand flashed forward and red lightning erupted from his fingertips—wild, ferocious, and untamed. The air hissed with electricity.
VZZZZZZZZZZ
The bolt snapped toward Philip's face, too fast for human reflexes. The voltage carved through the space between them like a hot wire.
But just before impact, the gold necklace hanging from Philip's thick neck glowed bright. A shimmer of translucent energy flickered for an instant around his face like a shield of glass.
The lightning hit—but vanished instantly, negated without consequence.
Twice now Ali had struck, and twice Philip had emerged untouched.
'Now I don't have to think about the necklace anymore,' Ali concluded, satisfied at having wasted its one-use shield.
Philip was now within striking range—closer than ever. His right arm rose, fist clenched tightly, as the green winds wrapped tighter around his knuckles. The dice spun again.
This time… a three.
'Times three in strength, I'm guessing…' Ali's thoughts raced. He didn't need confirmation. Instinct alone told him that if that fist connected—especially with the added wind-blades—it could tear through steel, let alone flesh.
Ali readied a counter-kick, shifting his weight—but his foot suddenly dipped.
The sand beneath his sole softened. It shifted, as if something unseen had manipulated it at the last moment.
His foot slipped. Balance compromised.
Philip's smile widened, manic delight in his eyes. His luck had taken hold, and his opponents' footing betrayed them again. It always did. It was a familiar pattern. A cruel gift from the gods of chance.
Ali had only three points of Spirit remaining. He could unleash another surge of Force Lightning and potentially end the fight right now. But…
'If he lands another six… my lightning will tickle him while he punches straight through me,' Ali thought grimly.
No risk.
He jumped—using the Force.
Ali's body launched into the air, propelled by a precise pulse of power. He rose high above the arena floor, floating for a breathless second. Philip, sensing an opportunity, looked up with narrowed eyes. He opened his mouth wide and raised his glowing fist.
FOOOOOOOOOOOOP
A reverse suction gust erupted from Philip's lungs—an impossible vortex that pulled the very air around Ali. The wind howled, dragging everything downward like a black hole.
Ali's body was caught, dragged by invisible hands toward the vortex.
His control was slipping. His Telekinesis wasn't enough to counter the pull.
Ali's arm snapped forward with lethal precision, hurling the Inverted Spear of Heaven straight at Philip's face.
But just as the spear was about to pierce through the Dice Devil's skull, Philip's raised brass knuckles flared brilliantly—the green winds howling into a violent burst. Like a living storm, the swirling gusts detonated outward and slammed against the incoming spear, throwing it off course.
Philip's blue eyes lit up. Ali's body was only meters away now. His heart raced—one good hit was all he needed. His dice was stuck on three, amplifying his physical power beyond reason. A single punch could end it.
'Just a little more…' Ali thought…
Ali, suspended midair, wasn't done. His hand twitched slightly, eyes focused on the falling spear. The weapon, inches from spiralling out of reach, suddenly reversed direction. Ali's Telekinesis gripped it with violent precision.
WHOOSH!
The spear burst back up, angling sharply for Philip's exposed throat like a guided missile.
UGH!
Philip's entire body jerked—the blade had grazed him. A shallow slice opened from the base of his stomach to just beneath his collarbone, cutting clean through his skin in a flash of red.
Gritting his teeth, he instinctively snapped his jaw shut, stopping the gust in his lungs from activating too late. He exhaled the residual air in a wild blast downward, which threw the spear—now nearly lodged into his windpipe—off trajectory once again.
Ali extended a hand and caught the spinning weapon with practiced ease. His body now standing far from his opponent while Philip staggered, breathing heavily, sweat glistening over his massive torso, heart pounding like a war drum.
Philip glanced down with shaky relief, tracing the cut across his abdomen. Only a shallow wound. He'd survived it.
But Ali was watching.
And he wasn't impressed.
"What are you so happy about?" Ali's voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp. His jet-black eyes locked onto the Frenchman like a hawk staring down a crippled animal.
Philip looked up, confused. The meaning of the English was lost to him in the moment—but Ali clarified without needing translation.
"Look below you.", Ali said while pointing below Philip.
The giant hesitated. At first, he thought it was a bluff—a diversion to steal the momentum. But his instincts betrayed him. His gaze dropped involuntarily.
There it was.
A glint of faint blue between the sand, barely visible—his protective necklace. The enchanted charm that shielded him from the one power every player feared most: Telekinesis.
It lay broken in the sand. Uprooted. Torn clean from his neck.
Philip's eyes widened in disbelief, the colour draining from his face.
He was exposed.
Ali saw the realisation hit. A smirk curved onto his lips as he raised a hand.
Philip opened his mouth to surrender.
"Surren—"
Ali's fingers curled.
CRACK.
The invisible grip closed around Philip's throat, silencing him mid-word. The Frenchman's eyes bulged, veins pushing to the surface as pressure constricted his windpipe.
UGH—!
The dice above his head spun rapidly, a blur of motion that slowed—
Four.
A faint glimmer of hope.
The golden aura around Philip's body pulsed, and for a second, Ali felt resistance—a push against his will. The enhancement from the dice roll strengthened his durability and suppressed some of the pressure closing in.
Ali wasn't impressed.
"That just means I have to put four times the Force, no?"
His hand clenched fully. Philip's entire body jerked violently.
Now it was no longer just his neck—Ali was crushing him entirely. Shoulders, chest, abdomen, legs—every muscle compacted inward as if the air itself had turned to stone. Bones creaked. His spine bent. His massive frame began to collapse under the sheer, suffocating force of Ali's
Ali walked forward slowly, the spear spinning lazily in his free hand. His eyes never blinked, his tone stayed calm, unreadable.
"I remember you saying something about killing me?"
He didn't care if Philip understood the words or not. He spoke for himself now.
Philip's lungs spasmed, drawing shallow, wheezing gasps. His lips trembled as he tried to groan, but all that escaped were wet coughs and strangled sounds.
UGH—UGH—
"Where is your luck now?"
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