Clash of Titans
804 Words
Riven Ashcroft’s aura flared like a storm, crimson and roaring. The ground beneath him cracked as mana coils erupted, forming a massive dragon-shaped projection behind him. Every eye in the Survival Zone turned toward the two of them. This wasn’t just a fight; it was the announcement of a new apex prodigy.
Harold Vale tightened his grip on the Monkey King’s staff. He didn’t flinch, didn’t roar. He simply observed.
“Interesting,” Luke murmured in his mind. “He’s fast… but predictable.”
Riven leaped first, a trail of crimson fire tearing across the battlefield, aiming directly for Harold. The wind roared in his wake, stones splintering beneath the sheer force of his power.
Harold took a calm breath. The Monkey King stirred, golden energy rippling along his arms. With a flick of his staff, he tapped the ground—not a strike at Riven, just a pulse of energy.
The effect was immediate.
The ground beneath Riven’s landing crumbled slightly, forcing him off balance for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t much—but in that fraction, Harold closed the distance.
He didn’t swing the staff. Not yet.
Instead, golden afterimages appeared, replicating him dozens of times. They darted, danced, and collided with Riven from angles he hadn’t anticipated. Each afterimage struck like a shadow, tapping him, testing his defense, and dissolving harmlessly if countered.
Riven growled. “Clever… but not enough!”
He unleashed the Crimson Wyvern’s full fury—a spiral of fire and dragon-shaped mana spikes. The air trembled, wind howling like a hurricane. Trees and pillars shattered instantly. Many examinees fell back, covering their faces.
Harold lifted his staff. The Monkey King’s energy surged. Golden vines of force wrapped around the incoming attacks, not just blocking them, but redirecting pieces harmlessly into the ground. The afterimages continued, probing Riven’s limits.
Then, Harold moved. Fast. Faster than Riven could track. One second he was on the left, the next on the right, then behind, then above. Every movement was precise, each strike calculated. No brute force wasted; every tap of the staff, every pulse of energy, was designed to dominate without destroying.
Riven’s jaw tightened. “He’s… outmaneuvering me?”
“Yes,” Luke whispered. “And he hasn’t even unleashed half his strength.”
Riven unleashed another volley, claws extended, fire spiraling, fangs of mana slicing the air. Harold planted the staff lightly, just enough to create a repulsion field, and the attacks scattered like dust in a storm.
Golden afterimages spun, converged, and tapped Riven again—not enough to injure, but enough to humiliate. Each contact forced him to stagger, shift, and defend. He realized in shock: Harold Vale wasn’t fighting him on power alone. He was controlling the battlefield.
The other examinees watched, whispers spreading faster than wildfire.
“That’s… him?”
“The Monkey King’s host?”
“He’s making Riven stumble without hitting him seriously.”
Riven’s crimson aura flickered with frustration. He roared, unleashing a massive fire-dragon strike aimed directly at Harold. The heat alone could have incinerated a normal student.
Harold smirked faintly. He planted the staff and drew energy from the Monkey King, focusing it into a single golden pulse. The pulse collided with Riven’s fire, not in raw clash, but in perfect redirection. The fire spiraled harmlessly skyward, and Riven’s force was destabilized. He stumbled again.
“Impossible…” Riven gasped, wings flaring, trying to regain control.
Harold finally advanced, the afterimages vanishing. He tapped the staff lightly on Riven’s shoulder—not a strike meant to harm, but a signal of dominance. The Monkey King’s aura wrapped around Riven like a warning: “Yield.”
Riven froze, pulse racing. He stared at Harold. Every instinct screamed: this wasn’t a normal opponent. The power, the control, the subtle but absolute authority… it was terrifying.
Finally, he stepped back, lowering his arms. “This isn’t over,” he growled. “But… you’ve bested me—for now.”
Harold tilted his head, calm as ever. “Next time, try thinking, not just swinging.”
The other examinees erupted in whispers, some in awe, others in disbelief. Rankings had already updated, showing Harold at the top of the zone, untouchable and untamed.
Luke’s voice buzzed in Harold’s mind, amused. “Congratulations. You’ve just humiliated the most arrogant prodigy here without even trying. And you didn’t kill anyone.”
Harold exhaled, letting the Monkey King settle back into its dormant-but-aware state inside him. “Not interested in showing off… just making sure the weak don’t get in my way.”
The golden aura faded, leaving Harold standing alone amidst the ruins. But one thing was clear: the Survival Zone had already changed. Everyone knew who the apex student was.
And from this moment, anyone who underestimated Harold Vale would regret it.
- Writer
