If it's not obvious, I'm trying to go for longer chapters here.
In this chapter, we get to see the American and EU qualifiers!
The following weeks flew by. Every free moment that people weren't preparing for the Championships, they were talking about it or going about daily routines. Those of the WBBA, those privy to the information at least, were still tracking down every lead about Nyx that they could. Eventually, Dynamis had to go back to Africa to prepare for the tournament, and Tithi reluctantly went to America to join the Americans.
"Come on then, 'Keru! Show me what you've got!"
"Chimera! Special Move, Battering Ram!"
"Leone! King Lion Crushing Fang!"
"Interesting, very interesting…" Akira muttered, typing frantically at his laptop, "Leone's defense is still the best I've ever seen."
"But since he's started training, Kakeru's stamina and attack power have increased drastically," Madoka finished, eyes on her own computer screen. She laughed a little and shook her head, "It's quite the improvement in just a short amount of time."
"Seems like you'll have your hands full with the new team, if Kakeru's on it," Akira commented.
"Oh, I'm not gonna be the mechanic this time. You are," Madoka said, off handedly.
has stopped working.
"What?!" Akira yelped, nearly dropping his computer, "Wha- Why- Me?!"
Madoka leveled him with a look, "Um, yes, who else?"
"Literally- anyone else! I'm not qualified to be a mechanic for a team of world class Bladers!"
"You're as qualified as I am," Madoka shut her laptop. "And I can't go. I'll be too busy here, helping to keep tabs on the Seven and with the B-Pit."
"But- But- But- What about Japan's image?!"
"What about it?"
"Madoka," Akira breathed, softly. He glanced around the park, no one paying the two analysts any mind in favor of watching the Tategami brothers go at it. He looked at Madoka, and lowered his voice even more, "I'm Doji's son. What will the world think when they find out I'm on the team?!"
"It's not like you're battling," Madoka waved a hand. "It's not like your parents matter. You're your own person, you know that, and you're certainly not like your dad."
"But- But- But-" Akira spluttered.
"I'll hear none of it," Madoka said, firmly. "You're going to be the mechanic for the new Japanese team in this World Championships, am I clear?"
Akira winced, and sighed. He knew better than to argue with Madoka, unless he wanted to risk her wrath.
"Alright fine… but I'm not happy about it," Akira pouted.
Just a few yards away, Leone sent Chimera flying, and Kakeru erupted into a flurry of curses. Akira thought the scene summed his situation up quite nicely.
"You're still staring at that flyer with that strange look of despair and excitement,"
Nile Storm sighed, "Yeah, I am, huh?"
Nefertiti Storm raised an eyebrow, and turned back to washing the dishes in the sink, "You didn't seem very surprised when the new Championships were announced, or when the rules were given."
"Kind of a no brainer though, on the rules," Nile muttered. "As for not being surprised… I… kinda already knew because of…" Nile paused, and hesitated.
"Because of what?" Nefertiti asked.
Nile was silent long enough for Nefertiti to turn and give him a look, "Nile?"
"You know how Dynamis had to suddenly leave a couple of weeks ago?"
"Yes," Nefertiti answered.
"Well… funny story, actually…"
Within the next hour, Nefertiti found herself breaking out the wine and pouring herself a glass. She also decided to forgo her diet and dig into her chocolate stash.
"I knew it had been too quiet recently. Nothing good ever comes from quiet where our friends are concerned," Nefertiti grumbled. "So what, the World Championships is a way to weed out the Seven?"
"Essentially," Nile nodded, sighing. "I mean, there's no way I am one, but someone in Cairo is. Not to mention, even if I wanted to, I couldn't enter the tournament."
"You have to admit, the rules make sense," Nefertiti told him, gently.
Nile froze, and slowly looked up. He had a look in his eyes, and Nefertiti could already feel dread rising up in her, "Nile, whatever you're thinking, the answer is-"
"You can compete, though," Nile said, and Nefertiti could see the plan unfolding in her little brother's mind. "You're still able to, according to the rules! You're twenty!"
"I'm rusty," Nefertiti corrected, and downed the rest of her wine. She stared at the empty glass, and poured herself another.
"At least enter the qualifiers!" Nile pleaded, leaning over the dining table a bit, "Please? Can you do that for me?"
"Nile…" Nefertiti groaned.
"If you get a spot on the team, there's no guarantee you keep it! Not with the fact that they give you a bracelet and send the rest of the entrants after you for twenty four hours!"
That… was a good point.
"And if I make the team anyways?" Nefertiti sighed, tiredly.
"Then take the world by storm, Neffy," Nile said, seriously. "Because that's what we do, isn't it?"
Nefertiti stared at him for a long, long moment, reflecting on his words. Eventually, she smirked and shook her head.
"Alright, Nile, I guess I can do that. Besides… you're right. It doesn't hurt to enter the qualifiers," Nefertiti mused. "Okay. But keep in mind, I'm only doing this because you asked."
Nile's answering grin was almost too bright to look at.
"You nervous?"
"No,"
"You're lying,"
"Shut up. You're the one with a promised spot on the team! I have to fight for it!"
Chris Cadelle, Legendary Blader of Winter, laughed, dodging the punch to his shoulder. His sister, Christina "Crissie" Cadelle, glared and pouted, crossing her arms. In response, Chris ruffled her hair.
"You'll do fine, CC," Chris said. "The key is to not waste your energy. Go for the quantity, not the quality."
"Again, easy for you to say," Christina mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. "I've never competed in a tournament like this. What if I get so caught up in my head I panic and then lose? Oh, I definitely won't get a spot on the team then!"
Chris sighed, and facepalmed, listening as Christina dissolved into anxious mutterings about all the possible outcomes of the Southern region's qualifiers. He wondered if Team Dungeon was having to deal with Toby being a nervous wreck, in preparation for the Northeastern region's qualifiers.
"Christina Cadelle," Chris finally said, catching his sister's attention. She stared at him, wide eyed, "You will do perfectly fine. In my opinion, you're stronger than everyone here. And yes, I am biased, no, don't interrupt me." Chris cut her off as she opened her mouth, "I'll be right up in the stands, cheering you on. Don't focus on the what if's, just go for it. You'll knock everyone's socks right off, you should know that. You have the skills and you got the power."
"But…" Christina hesitated, taking in her twin's words, before exhaling slowly and nodding, "Alright… yeah, you're right. I've got this. I'm just overthinking things."
"You really are," Chris deadpanned, and let Christina's punch connect with his shoulder this time.
"Shut it. I'm entitled to be overthinking things right now!" Christina snapped, and turned her gaze back to survey the crowd of Bladers and spectators filling the arena, "Hmm…"
"What?" Chris rubbed his shoulder, grimacing a little.
"That comet fell over New York, the one for whoever the member of the Seven is… Do you think they'll actually enter the Northeastern qualifiers?"
"A tournament of this magnitude?" Chris snorted, "I'd be more surprised if they didn't."
The DJ's voice caught the siblings' attention, as well as every other person standing around.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's not waste any time! You're here and here for a reason, weather it be to watch some Bey battles or to try and get that spot on our home team! We'll begin the first round of battles in thirty minutes, so everyone who isn't entered, get seated! Bladers, start your engines and get ready to rumble!"
Chris and Christina shared a look. Chris smirked and flashed his sister a thumbs up as he headed for the stands, "Knock 'em dead, sis. I'll be waiting on you."
The day flew by, and so did the battles. Each round brought on stronger and stronger Bladers, but Christina took her brother's advice: It wasn't the quality of the battles that mattered, but the quantity. The rules were just as simple: there was a total of five rounds that lasted forty five minutes. Each round, the number of Bladers was cut in half, weeding out the strongest from the weakest and making it harder each time. Bladers would be able to challenge however many they could in those forty five minutes, and the number of Bladers they defeated only added to their score. Their score would be the variable that put them in whatever spot on the team.
The leader was Chris. The second was Tithi member, with first guard. There were two more spots left on team, plus whoever ended up being their mechanic. Christina was determined to get one of those two Blader spots. Frankly, she didn't care if it was second guard or sub member. She just wanted that spot.
"And after a blistering day of battles, it's time, people! We started off with over five hundred entrants, and we're down to the final fifteen! Let's check out those scores to see who's the one to look out for!"
Christina's breath caught in her throat. She was in the top three, sitting solidly at number three, far ahead of number four, and just a few points behind number two.
"And you may be wondering, just how we're going to figure who will be getting that spot on the team, with an odd number of Bladers. Well, the answer is simple: A battle royale!"
Christina cursed. But then, she paused, and considered. As a former Blader for Hire, events like these were always the ones that could push her strength to the limit, and to see where it was she needed to perfect her skills.
Christina pulled Nieth out of her case, and stared down at the shimmering gold facebolt design of the goddess of hunting. A crossed bow and arrow, with the crown of the Lower Kingdom of Egypt in the background. With a smirk, Christina raised her head to survey her competition. Unsurprisingly, a lot of eyes were on her, and Christina felt her smirk turn sharp. Consideration turned to wariness, and Christina knew, deep down, she had the final match in the bag.
In the stands, Chris munched on a carton of popcorn, unconcerned as he surveyed those that would be in the final match. There was a significant space of numbers between Christina and the person in fourth. He wasn't too worried about the coming battle, but he had been surprised before, so he decided to stay cautious, at least for a few moments.
Hm, but the person in the first spot… Hunter Hart. Hart was a familiar name, but where had Chris heard it before…? He had nearly double the amount of points that Christina did.
Chris' phone went off with several messages in quick succession. He felt his temple pulse with a building headache as he realized what the sudden influx could mean. With a sigh, he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and opened up the group chat he had- unwillingly- been added to.
#1 Annoyance: TOBY DID IT! TOBY MADE THE TEAM! WinterComes what about Christina? How's her qualifiers going? Is she on the team? I bet she made the team!
What does the fox say: Settle down, Masamune. We're all excited, but Chris and Christina are probably still in the middle of the qualifiers.
The King: Way to go Toby!
#1 Annoyance: King! Dude, how's it going in Greece, man?! Has the EU's qualifiers started yet?! Give us the details, man, don't hold off!
What does the fox say: And there goes any peace and quiet…
WinterComes: They're just fixing to start the finals here. It's battle royale style. Whoever wins gets the spot. Christina's number three of fifteen.
To-to Toby: Who's number one?
WinterComes: Some guy named Hunter Hart. Name's familiar, can't place it though.
WinterComes: Congrats on making the team.
What does the fox say: Did you say Hart?
WinterComes: Yeah, why? You know him?
What does the fox say: Could be a coincidence, but with the way the name's spelled…
#1 Annoyance: You're thinking Damian too, huh?
What does the fox say: Yep.
WinterComes: I'm missing something. Who's Damian?
To-to Toby: Damian Hart, from USA's first World Championships. Leader of Team Starbreaker, overall sadistic monster. Didn't you watch the World Championships?
WinterComes: … No. Kinda too busy being a sulking bastard and a Blader for hire.
To-to Toby: Fair enough. He only battled twice in the whole tournament. He defeated Team Excalibur single handedly, Gingka won in the finals against him. We found out later he battled Kyoya in the siege on Hades City and lost. He also put Tsubasa and Yuu in the hospital for a while before the finals match against GanGan Galaxy. Blindsided them while they were training.
The King: Team Excalibur huh? I'm staying with the Konzerns while the team is put together. Let me ask…
What does the fox say: KING DON'T!
Chris found himself staring at his phone, as the chat went silent. A few moments later, King came back online.
The King: Note to self, Nero Konzern is a scary dude. I barely said Damian's name and he threw a freaking vase at me!
Chris sighed as the chat devolved into chaos from there, and turned his attention back to the stadium below as he heard the crowd begin to chant.
"Three!"
Oh, shit, was it already time for the finals?! Chris cursed at his distraction.
"Two!"
The Bladers were readying themselves, and Chris found his eyes locked on Christina, her expression serious. Just as quickly though, Chris' eyes landed on the dark blue haired teen that was Hunter Hart. Was he truly related to Damian Hart…?
"One! Let it rip!"
In a matter of six minutes, it had gone from the top fifteen, to the top seven. At thirteen minutes, it was down to the final five, and the Bladers stood, surveying each other and debating their next move.
Christina made hers first. She spread her stance, stretching her arms out, "Neith! Special Move, Chameleon Cloak!"
Four other heads snapped down towards the dish, just in time to see Neith shimmer, and then disappear altogether. Christina relaxed, just a small margin.
I'll save my energy and wait them out. Whoever's the final man standing is who I'll fight, Christina decided, glancing around. Her move was apparently the trigger to start the battles again, as three of the five began going at each other.
Number four, or, in this case, the guy who come in at number one for the finals, was staring at her. Christina felt her insides squirm at the look he was giving her, like a predator staring down its prey and waiting for it to make the wrong move. Christina raised her chin, meeting emerald green eyes with narrowed violet.
"Tch," He scowled. "All of you are a waste of my time. Hellhound! Special Move, Alpha's Howl!"
Christina inhaled sharply as a dark red wolf-like creature appeared in the center of the stage, snarling. A ring of fire circled it's neck, with manacles and broken chains hanging off all four ankles. The beast's eyes flashed red in color, before it sat back on its haunches and let out an ear splitting howl.
Christina and the other Bladers clamped their hands over their ears, yelling in surprise. Wind bursts slammed into each Bey, and Christina silently willed her partner to avoid the bursts, both because it would certainly mean she'd lose the match, and reveal her position in the dish.
As it was, the other three finalists were tossed out, and the red beast vanished.
"Hmph," The teen smirked. "I guess that decides it then! I'm going to be taking that spot on the American te-"
"Camouflage Neith, Arrow of Accuracy!" Christina shouted, sweeping her hand out.
Hellhound went flying through the air, and Neith revealed herself in the center of the Bey dish, spinning at a steady speed, glowing green.
"What?!" Her opponent snarled, "How did you avoid my attacks! Hound's move should have sent you flying, you… you… you whelp!"
"Your first mistake was assuming I was like anyone else here," Christina snapped. "Your second mistake is… do you know who I am?"
"Just some girl who I need to crush to achieve my goals," He sneered.
"Wrong," Christina planted her feet firmly. She pointed at herself, thumb to chest as she continued, "I'm Christina Cadelle. I'm not just any Blader. I'm Chris Cadelle's sister. The Legendary Blader of Winter is the leader of the American team. If anyone deserves that spot you want, it's me. And that's exactly what I'm going to do! Neith! Special Move, Nature's Fury!"
Neith glowed green, the ground beneath her rumbling, as the goddess of hunting appeared in the air. A green maiden, dressed in golden armor. On Christina's command, the beast knocked an arrow in her bow and let it fly. Halfway to it's target, the single arrow split into multiple bursts of energy.
"Counter it, Hound!" The boy cried, eyes wide.
Christina smirked as the red beast appeared, "Too late!"
The arrows began to embed themselves into the ground just in front of Hound, small craters forming and sending Neith's opponent scrambling back, further and further until he was right on the edge of the dish-
The final arrow met it's mark. With a pained cry, Hound was sent flying through the air, arcing over his partner's head and landing with a deafening clink! on the concrete floor of the stadium, the silence of the crowd accentuating Christina's win.
"There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! The next member of the American team for the World Championships, CHRISTINA CADELLE!"
"Wales, dear do you think you can get your brother off the phone long enough so that he can eat breakfast?"
"Hmmm…" Wales Reynolds turned from the papers spread out in front of him, a new living room design for a client, and glanced through the dining room and into the living room.
"The same to you, Konzern. I'll be sorely disappointed if you don't end up on the EU team," Wales heard his brother's voice, Lucas Reynolds, full of fire and amusement. It was quickly followed by muffled laughter.
"Yeah, no, he's toying with Nero," Wales chuckled, and turned back to his mother. Alice Reynolds shook her head, exasperated, "Besides. He's probably too nervous to eat. You know how he gets."
"I do," Alice sighed. "But he'll need to keep his energy up if he wants to win the qualifiers. I had this same problem with you on the morning of yours."
"No, you had the problem of me not getting any sleep the week of," Wales pointed his pen at his mother.
"So at least, you finally admit that?" Alice raised an eyebrow, as she set a plate of food at the elbow of her oldest, "And could you put your work away? You'll have plenty of time to sketch later. I'm going to get your brother to try and eat something."
"Good luck," Wales muttered, as he shuffled the papers away into a neat stack and dug into breakfast. His phone, setting just to his right, buzzed and lit up with an incoming message. Curious, he checked it.
Julian
Wales, do you have any idea what Lucas told Nero to have him so riled up? It's not even nine yet.
7:31 AM
Wales snorted.
Wales
Nope. But Lucas was up at six and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just as nervous as he probably is. Mom's trying to get him to eat something and I'm just about going to bet that she's fighting a losing battle.
7:33 AM
Julian
Figures. Tell Lucas I wish him the best of luck in his qualifiers. I'm going to be busy trying to corral Nero into a some sort of calm…
7:35 AM
Wales
Ah, let Nero be Nero. You and I both know that the more excited he is, the more focused he is. He'll probably just blow everyone out of the water.
7:39 AM
Julian
That's what I'm afraid of.
7:41 AM
"Wales Reynolds, you better not be on your phone!" Alice walked back in, Lucas in tow. She pulled a chair out and sat him down in front of a plate of breakfast.
"No ma'am," Wales said, quickly, stuffing his phone under the papers he'd set aside.
"Good. Now, both of you, eat up. You have a big day!"
Wales and Lucas shared a look, as they dug into their breakfast.
A bigger day than she has any idea about.
Lucas had the rules for England's qualifiers memorized. There were six stadiums spread out across the country: Manchester, Liverpool, Plymouth, Brighton, London, and Cambridge. There were a total of eighty entrants allowed at each stadium, with only one winner from each stadium. Once the winners were decided, there would be a battle royal to decide England's representative on the EU's team.
And while Lucas was craving to get that spot, like every other Blader in the country, he also knew that he had to be on the lookout for someone of great power, someone who might qualify as a member of the Elemental Seven. Thankfully, according to the research that they had done and the information they had been told, both Lucas and Wales knew that the person they were looking for was in London.
"You keep an eye out on the ground, I'll keep an eye out from the stands," Wales had told him. "I'll be cheering you on, little brother. Make me proud."
Sure, no pressure or anything, Lucas thought, bitterly. It's not like you weren't on the EU's team the last time the World Championships happened. It's not like I don't have a lot to measure up to. It's not like I don't have some people counting on me to get on the team.
With a tired, heavy sigh, Lucas pulled his Bey from his pocket. Snowstorm Khione, his trusted partner of almost eight years, 'gifted' to him by his father, when it was really just another way of controlling his youngest. Lucas shivered a bit, recalling the endless training sessions- if one could call them that- his father had put him through in order to build his power.
In the years after he had escaped his father's abuse and found out what family really meant, Lucas had seen the change from when he was a scared little boy, to the teen he was now. He had friends, his mother and brother, and his own judgement to guide him.
"It doesn't matter how you got your partner," Wales had told him once. "What matters, is what you decide to do with her. Your power is no one else's besides your own."
Khione's icy blue energy ring seemed to glow in the mid morning sun. Lucas took another moment, staring down at his Bey, before gathering himself with a deep breath, and walking off to a nearby dish in preparation for the coming battles.
He had a qualifier to win.
By the time a lunch break was called at twelve thirty, the first half of the London qualifiers had been finished. Lucas had come out on top of all his battles in a mix of a display of unrestrained power and analytical defeats of his opponents. He barely felt any exhaustion, the fact that he had so many wins under his belt and still going strong making it feel like he was walking on air.
"Want a report from everyone else?" Wales asked, as they finally managed to sit down at a restaurant near the stadium.
"Sure, go for it," Lucas shrugged, staring down at the menu.
"Sophie says she's been watching what she can and that you're looking cool and that Nero's on fire,"
Lucas snorted.
"Julian is trying to do damage control because apparently King mentioned Damian this morning and Nero tried to kill him with a vase to the head,"
"Sounds like him," Lucas commented.
"And after lunch, Italy's semi finals start. There's two rounds, and Nero's in one of them, then the finals,"
"Of course he is,"
"Klaus has been on the phone with his cousin, who's apparently gone to try out for the Australian team,"
"Australia has a team this year?"
"I know, shocking. Finally, Mom says she thinks she's run off her clients with how much she's been bragging on you," Wales set his phone down with a flourish.
"And you?" Lucas glanced up at Wales through his bangs.
"I think you're doing amazing," Wales leaned back in his chair, smirking. "And when you and Nero get on the team, the EU will have yet another damn good tag team in its ranks."
Lucas gave him a flat look, "Is that all you're concerned about?"
"No!"
Lucas just raised an eyebrow.
"… Okay fine, but only because the EU remembers how good Sophie and I were! Plus, you two are better," Wales huffed, crossing his arms.
"We are not," Lucas rolled his eyes and shut the menu. He knew what he wanted.
"How many times have you beat Sophie and I in battle?"
At that, Lucas paused, thinking over Wales' question. After a moment, he sighed, "Alright, so you have a point. But not every battle is gonna be a tag team match."
"No," Wales leaned forward. "But at least if it happens, you can go in in with the knowledge you'll own them."
"Prat,"
"Brat,"
Lucas huffed, and changed the subject, "Did you see anyone who could be a candidate for an Elemental?"
"Nope," Wales sighed. "Maybe he or she isn't here."
"What Blader doesn't enter a tournament of this magnitude?" Lucas asked, as a waitress approached them. They quickly gave their orders, and Lucas continued, "Do you think maybe they could have gone to a different stadium?"
"It's possible," Wales shrugged. "The slots here for the London qualifiers filled up pretty quickly." Wales eyed him, "You've got your thinking face on. What's going through that brain of yours?"
"I…" Lucas hesitated, "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Well, now you've got my attention," Wales said. "Come on, spill. Tell me."
"It's a stupid thought," Lucas sighed. "Just let it go."
Besides, Lucas mused to himself. What are the odds that I could be the one we're looking for? I'm not exactly 'hero' material…
"We're here, Bladers! The final match for England's qualifiers! The winner of this battle goes on to represent this great country on the EU team! So let's not waste another second and jump right in!"
Wales bit nervously at his thumbnail, surveying the group of six in the finals. They had to be powerful Bladers in order to get where they were, but most of them looked pretty… generic.
… Most of them. Lucas had gotten into the finals, and Wales ecstatic about that, if not freaking out a little. But one of the others, a girl about Lucas' age, with black hair streaked blue, and in an outfit that… frankly reminded Wales of his younger teenage days, she was from the Manchester stadium, and from what he had heard, she'd defeated all her opponents in three moves or less. She was probably the biggest competition for Lucas.
"Three!" The crowd's chanting snapped Wales from his musings, and he snapped to attention.
"Two!" Below, the Bladers readied themselves.
"One! Let it rip!"
It turned out, Wales, had a reason to be concerned about the girl. The group's Beys had barely hit the ground before she was calling move. A flash of blue lit up the dish, and before the DJ could say a word, she had sent nearly every Bey in the finals flying.
The shocked silence that fell over the crowd was broken by the girl, her voice ringing clear through the air.
"Huh. You survived that? Guess you're stronger than I thought you'd be," She spoke, with a voice like crackling ice.
In the arena, Snowstorm Khione had switched into stamina mode. Stamina meant being able to absorb opponent's attacks…
A silent order, on Lucas' part, and Khione switched to attack mode.
… And attack mode meant taking that absorbed power and turning it into her own.
"Khione, Icicle Barrage!" Lucas called, and his partner obeyed. Glowing an icy blue, she began a barrage attack on her opponent, knocking them back further and further towards the edge of the stadium.
"Night Mare, hold your ground!" The girl shouted, and the cameras zoomed in just in time to see Khione's opponent switch modes.
"That won't work with me!" Lucas said, grinning, "Throw her off balance! Special Move, Black Ice!"
There it is! Wales thought with a cheer, He's got her now!
The Bey dish began to coat over in a layer of ice, Khione spinning steadily thanks to the extreme sharp performance tip, and then Night Mare, upon hitting the ice, began to wobble unsteadily.
"Wha- Night Mare!" The girl exclaimed, "Oh, you think you've got the upper hand, do you?! Cosmic Blast!"
Those words summoned Night Mare into existence. With a loud whinny, a dark blue horse with a flaming mane and tail appeared in the air.
Wales inhaled sharply at the sight, eyes wide.
From the expression on Lucas' face, he was thinking the same thing Wales was.
A member of the Seven?
Night Mare's jaw dropped, and unleashed a torrent of blue colored flames on the ice.
"Khione!" Lucas cried, startled.
"Nice try, gingersnap, but I've got this one in the bag. Where fire meets ice, ice always loses," The girl smirked, hands on her hips.
"Only my brother can call me gingersnap," Lucas said, coolly. "And I'm not done, not by a long shot! Khione, it's time we end this!"
Lucas' words alone had Wales pulling his jacket tighter around himself, burrowing his face into the collar in preparation of what was to come. Years of experience and being on the receiving end of Lucas' attacks had him well aware that Lucas was about to pull out his strongest move yet.
"Special Move!" Lucas called, as his Blader's Spirit roared to life around him, a shocking icy blue, "Snowstorm Khione, Winter's Wrath!"
The air dropped in temperature, and the wind picked up, howling with a vicious, cold ferocity. In the stadium, Khione appeared: A light blue colored maiden, dressed in Greek robes and holding a staff topped with a glowing crystal. With a war cry, she raised said staff and brought it down on Night Mare's head. The horse spirit went topping to the ground as an explosion and bright light filled the air.
Wales adverted his eyes for just a few seconds, before leaning forward, adrenaline pumping as he waited for the dust to clear…
"There he is, ladies and gentlemen! England's representative for the EU team- let's hear it for LUCAS REYNOLDS!"
Wales had never cheered so loud in his life.
So! We have most members of the first two teams!
USA: Chris, Tithi, Toby, and Christina. Mechanic has yet to be introduced.
EU: King, Nero, and Lucas. Mechanic has yet to be introduced.
But we've also got the introduction of a couple of interesting characters! Thoughts on how they play in to the story? I'd love to hear them!
Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will be kind enough to drop a review! Until next time, ciao!