The eyes of the spiky-haired Konoha genin wandered off to the raging sand hurricane that had been drawing oxygen out of the old martial arts master's chest and stuffing it with handfuls upon handfuls of sand in return for what it took. Feeling the desperation to rescue the opponent he had learned to respect and didn't want to see harmed, but also the helplessness of his current state of strength, the young man let out a loud battle cry into the air while adopting a different stance from the one he had taken before.
"Hmm… Perhaps I should've let the old man speak a bit longer, maybe then you'd have understood that no matter the martial arts style, you cannot hurt me," the extravagant mercenary under Fennec's employ stated with a seemingly paralyzed face that portrayed his statement for the cold and merciless fact that it was.
The young man kicked off, charging at the mercenary with the flappy-wing outfit. Instead of shooting out a swift and precise punch, a signature feature of the simple yet effective Konoha's trademark Strong Fist style, the young man waved his hand in a hammering smash. This caught his opponent by surprise. The noise of fluttering cloth rushed to move his flappy outfit in his defense and chakra surged through the weaved threads to coat and bolster the defenses of the cape's wings. The hammering thud didn't seem too strong nor was it exceptionally fast, yet the shockwave that came out from the collided fist was considerable and boomed in all directions with a deafening clamor.
"That's… Fluid Fist style? No… Not quite… Not Strong Fist either…" Fennec's mercenary blinked, though his expression remained unchanged, and he spoke with the casual indifference of a student working through a math problem in their exercise book that no one would even grade them for.
The spiky-haired boy landed on both feet, shifting and repositioning his limbs with grace and flawless balance that was the signature feature of the Fluid Fist, yet he attacked with rapid punches, just like a Strong Style user. Fleshy thuds and fractal cracks made the stunned mercenary turn his attention down to his own body as he noted gruesome indentations in the flesh on his chest and abdomen. This curious Fluid Strong Fist style left an aftereffect shockwave after each strike that delivered a wallop just as strong, if not stronger, as the punch itself.
The mercenary groaned in frustration. While the violet-haired boy shifted his method of attack into wild, animalistic-like hammering swings that dived even deeper into the advantages of the Fluid Fist style, grungy noises of tightening cloth snapped the boy out of his stupor of madness as the wing-like flaps of his opponent wrapped around his wrists and heels and elevated the young man in the air, directly above the bald head of his opponent.
"No matter how much you innovate, no matter the skill. You cannot hurt me. I am immortal and invincible and when I win this patch of land for Fennec, I will be rich and a nobleman too," the mercenary under Fennec's employ proclaimed while shooting up and slamming the top of his head into the boy's gut like a drilling bullet. With a dulled stare, the boy spat out slobber mixed with blood and slumped in his opponent's hold. "Immortality, invincibility, these are the powers of a God. And yet my entire life I had to make other people rich and powerful in exchange for a meek split of the fortune they made because of me. Because of some trivial thing like the blood of a commoner, despite my strength, this feudalistic society defied me what I deserve. Some brat and an old man won't stand in the way of me creating my kingdom and defying the circumstances of my birth."
"H-Huh…" the slumped boy shook his head, resuming his resistance by trying to struggle his wrists and heels out of the mercenary's hold.
"Wait, don't tell me you passed out just now and heard nothing I said…" the solemn-faced mercenary squinted his eyes in disappointment.
"It doesn't matter!" the defiant youth spat out in his opponent's face while thrashing in mid-air. "I'm going to break out, save the old man, and kick your ass!"
"Youth truly is frustrating to deal with…" the eyes of the hairless dwarf mercenary grew dim and covered in the shade of his protruding browless ridges while his lips stretched across the lower side of his face, ripe with vexation. In a blink, the mercenary shot his bald head up while pulling the thrashing youth in for a crippling headbutt. The boy's head rang back in a nasty snap while the look in his eyes nearly went dead and dull.
The flappy cloth wings released the young man, only to flash in front of him with savage slashes of the knife-tipped edges of the cloth flaps. Crimson gashes opened up in the areas hit by the slashing attacks as the boy's body became riddled with great many crimson grate markings. The hairless mercenary appeared to have been taken over by his sick and bloody dance of knives as he ravaged the unconscious boy before putting his hands together on his chest.
"Desert Heart!" the mercenary chanted out with a stoic look on his face while a swirl of golden energy formed a golden point of singularity that expanded as more and more of this golden wing surged within it. A spinning ball of auric chakra with an outline of murky and blinding desert sand swirling in ray-like jets around it formed in between the hands of the mercenary who thrust the ball outward at the boy. A chilling scream rang around the fighting stage as the golden sandstorm chakra ball hit the boy head-on.
After the collision, the blast expanded and surrounded the boy in a grinding sphere of storming sand particles thrashing within the localized sandstorm at unbelievable speed and rending flesh wherever it met it. The sphere dissolved in a hissing blast and threw the boy like a rag doll, rolling all the way to the edge of the arena and hanging over the top with one twitching hand weighing over the edge.
With a flap of his wings, the exotic mercenary swooped into the swirling hurricane he had trapped the old man in and drew him out of it within his grasp. The old man's eyes had been rolled back while masses of sand dripped from his mouth, soaked with saliva and blood. The old martial arts master's body had turned into a miserable bag of sand from the inside. Seeing no further resistance in his foe, Fennec's mercenary turned around on his axis and flung the old martial arts master out of bounds.
"The mercenary Vizeriman eliminated Kamome Gan, the master of the Fluid Fist style! The young Konohagakure ninja Nasudo Yuken might be next!" the announcer pointed out the elimination to the audience members that may have been paying attention to either of the entirely different flashy bouts transpiring in the arena.
As if envisioning the flow of battle, the announcer proved to be correct with his prediction, as, after a sharp 180 turn, the hovering mercenary turned to the knocked down Konohagakure ninja with a sharp swoop that reminded of how a bird of prey plunged toward a tasty rodent they claimed as lunch. The audience clamored with chills as a bony crunch echoed throughout the entire district, though it wasn't what they thought they saw coming. Young Yuken's foot slammed into the cheek of his head-first rushing opponent, after the battered and bruised Konoha ninja shoved his body off the ground with a fluid kick up and slammed his foot in a staunch push kick into Vizeriman's cheek.
The kick reverberated through the bodies of both combatants as Vizeriman skidded across the stage and slammed into the rocky debris protruding at the other side of the arena, crumbling it into rubble, while young Yuken leaned backward, waving his hands frantically for balance or else he was threatened with elimination. Like a fish out of water, the young man flopped on his side, overcoming the allure of the outer area. Overcome with pain, he began writhing toward the crumbled mound of stone he slammed his opponent into.
"You'll… Pay for… Hurting the… Old man…" the injured genin grumbled while dragging his body across the tiles. "Even if I'll have to break every bone in my body, I'll make you feel this pain, even if it's just this once!"
"Misguided…" Vizeriman stated boldly while returning to his casual hover with a whirlwind kick-up while his flapping cloth wings produced enough air streaming under his feet to sustain him in mid-air. Despite the blood-curdling push kick that should've snapped his neck, the mercenary didn't seem to have suffered any damage whatsoever and merely sullied his clothes and his tanned skin with dirt and dust. "It appears that you won't understand until I explain to you exactly how out of your league you are, young man…"
Much to the shock of the bruised Konoha genin, the exotic mercenary plunged his arm into his own chest, though, instead of blood, only streams of sand and crystal-clear oasis water sprayed out. Somewhere on their way down to the floor, they mixed, forming wet mush that stuck to the floor. Upon pulling the arm that had gone in elbow-deep out of his ribcage, the mercenary Vizeriman showed the stunned Konoha genin and whirling ball of humming water with a layer of golden sand rotating around it. Like some mystical water engine that rotated so fast that it perfectly layered the surrounding sand without coming into contact with it.
"This is a mystical artifact that I have found deep south-west in the Land of the Wind–the Heart of the Desert. It imbues me with its power, the ability to shape its energy, and its eternal longevity. The desert is eternal, the desert is everlasting. It consumes all life. That is why you can never as much as scratch me, for I have become the bearer of the Heart of the Desert," after this grisly act of self-injury, the hairless mercenary stuffed the artifact back into where he pulled it from. The moment that the Heart of the Desert returned to its safe place, the exit wound took the form of collapsing sand pit that closed up and then returned to the form of ordinary, tattooed human skin.
"Heh…" young Yuken cackled with cheer.
"You are… Excited?" Vizeriman tilted his head to the side with curiosity.
"Yeah. You must've thought that pointing out your fancy Heart of the Desert thingy will make me think that resisting you is pointless and that I can't overpower you. But all it did was give me hope of defeating you!" Yuken thrust his fist out with a fluid, slow, yet elegant air punch.
"Youth truly is the worst…" Vizeriman covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head in immeasurable disappointment.
Yuken crouched slightly, positioning his arms by his side. A slight gust picked up around the young man, rustling his tattered tracksuit and his spiky hair before erupting into a clear aura surrounding him and burning like a brilliant blaze.
"Gate of Opening: Open!" Yuken yelled out. A pulsing twitch resonated throughout the teen's body, moving up and down and leaving his muscles tensed up with a healthy tonus while the bloody injuries dried up all around his body. Emerald jets of ethereal shine added to the clear aura. "Gate of Healing: Open!" Yuken called out.
"The Eight Gates?" Vizeriman tilted his head to the other side, completely unflinching. "All you're doing is bulking up further. Power is useless against me. I am as eternal as the sand in the desert and any damage you deal to me will be revitalized like a weary traveler is revived after drinking from an oasis."
Yuken's eyes went pale white. The following power-up appeared to perform the opposite of what the second gate put him through, whereas the Gate of Healing revitalized his body and eased his exhaustion, this step further down the line of strength made the boy's spine crack as the cords punched out with subtle protrusions under the skin. Yuken's skin turned swollen red from the stress while his hair began ruffling up from the surging force that was radiating from his body. "Gate of Life: Open!" he yelled out.
"Ignoring everything I say, so typical of the plague of youth," Vizeriman shook his head, swinging his flappy wings and sending white crescent projectiles of Wind Release chakra to slice his opponent up and leave him debilitated with lacerations. In a blink, Yuken vanished.
Rolling through the air, enveloped with a fiery blaze of burning youthful energy, Yuken dropped his foot from mid-air, aiming at the top of his opponent's bald head. A devastating thud and an exploding concussive shockwave expanded on all sides, putting the arena through a quaking ringer that dislodged most of its tiles in one pulse of energy. Having dropped to the ground level, the Third Gate genin waved his hand with a Fluid Strong Fist hammer, leaving a trace of flames where his arm swung and emitted shooting sparks after each hammering blow.
After a handful of devastating hammer strikes, Yuken vanished and blitzed in from behind the mercenary, moving in with an elbow strike that should've paralyzed the mercenary from the waist down. All four wing flaps crossed in the central area to block the strike, but Yuken vanished, having faked his opponent out and appeared above him. With a fiery spinning backfist, Yuken laid Vizeriman out on the floor and dragged him across the arena with a charred trail underneath the manhandled mercenary.
Shooting through the air and spinning with a double roundhouse kick, Yuken further blazed on in an attempt to ring out his invincible opponent. Feeling the edge of the arena coming nearer as he waved his wings out in front of him to absorb the shock of the blazing double roundhouse, Vizeriman glanced behind him, realizing his opponent's plot. With a subtle smirk, he waved his wings again, swiping with the knives attached to the ends of each flap, only to hit thin air.
Yuken appeared above Vizeriman with a double ax handle he intended to slam down and wreck the entire edge of the arena with, leaving Vizeriman laying out of reduced bounds and eliminated sooner than he recognized it as an imminent threat. A fleshy punch ripped through the air. The blaze around Yuken's body faded and his Third Gate aura vanished in one final pulse. The stoic mercenary stood underneath his young opponent, having impaled him on the knife points of his wing flaps. With one crude yank, the mercenary eliminated the Konoha ninja by dropping him out of bounds.
"Fennec's mercenary crewman, Vizeriman, eliminates another! This time–Nasudo Yuken from Konohagakure! This leaves it at 139 competitors still competing!" the announcer yelled out. "Yuken was not one of the ninja Konoha specifically sent here to compete, but a young ninja on a pilgrimage with his jounin master, away from the village when the two heard of this tournament taking place! Despite not being counted on for much, the boy still performed admirably against the top fighters of the world!"
"Not bad…" a woman warrior with bare feet and toes dyed black, armored on one leg with steel boots, kneepads, and tassets, donning a stylized silken belt and breast armor with heavily armored arms and a helmet stylized after an elephant with a segmented chain of hefty armor chunks falling over her back like a trunk and two pointed tusk spikes bending on her rear, behind her head, approached the hovering dwarf mercenary. "They were almost beginning to underestimate us with those early eliminations. Now they'll know we're not to be trifled with."
"It does not matter what they think of us," Vizeriman dismissed the sentiment of the armor-clad woman mercenary and a fellow contractor under Fennec. "This tournament is brimming with enemies that are here not because they seek victory, but to impede us. It's best that we eliminate them all before proceeding to the next stage. Luckily, the Allied Ninja have all been booted out, now all we have to worry about are the Konohagakure and Sunagakure ninja."
"I never was one for diplomatic solutions anyway…" a cruel blood-red smile colored the scarred cheeks of the woman with her spiky helm concealing most of her face and leaving most of the mania in her expression to the beholder's imagination. "Carve 'em up, I say…"
"It is this ruthlessness and common understanding that led you to a precious spot on my crew. If you keep this up, you may have a place at my court when Fennec gives us all our own land to govern," Vizeriman nodded in agreement.
"Hey, baldy!" a masculine shout from a farther corner of the arena made both mercenaries shift their attention to a ninja dressed in a standard Konohagakure flak jacket uniform and a white short-sleeve cape with thick red lines and yellow flames decorating the sleeves and the bottom end of the cape. "I don't take you eliminating my student lightly!"
"In that case, you should have stepped in earlier. You make for a lousy master," the stoic mercenary answered while the caped Konoha ninja skidded down the rocky mound of debris he had climbed onto.
"This one is no child. You should exercise caution and accept my help," the alluring she-merc turned to the chief of their mercenary crew with a higher pitch to her voice, implying an inquisitive suggestion since her thick and spiky helm made it impossible to tell her facial expressions apart.
"He is a Konoha ninja, the sooner we deal with them, the better our chances of winning and the smaller the chances of them pulling some behind-the-scenes ninja stunts. Very well, let us fight together," Vizeriman nodded in agreement. "Unless, of course, these odds frighten you and you wish to flee?"
"Fire Style: Great Fire Ball Jutsu!" the arrived jounin flashed through hand seals and expelled a massive fireball bomb that advanced toward both of the mercenaries, overwhelming them with its size, radiance, and erupting heat.
The flinched mercenaries took this as a negative answer and a proclamation of war from the Konoha ninja.