Wira : The Peerless One from Mount Tarakan

The morning in Sky Dragon City was both deafening and dazzling. After registering, Wira, Laksmi, and Darkie moved closer to the Stone Arena, the heart of the bustling crowd. Thousands of eyes gazed at the circular stage in the city's center, where martial artists clashed. The roar of cheers rumbled with every solid blow or deadly move delivered, forming a boisterous orchestra that was strange yet captivating to Wira. The aroma of food from nearby stalls mingled with the smell of sweat and dust, creating a unique blend that filled the air.

"Incredible!" Wira exclaimed, his eyes sparkling, absorbing every movement he saw. To him, this was the most fascinating show he had ever witnessed. He saw various fighting styles: some as swift as the wind, others relying on pure strength, and some even using strange weapons like spiked ball-and-chain flails, long spears, or even iron claws attached to their hands.

Darkie, arms crossed over his chest, observed with a serious expression. He could sense the Laksa aura from every martial artist fighting on the stage. Some were indeed quite strong, comparable to the elite martial artists from the Night Shadow Sect they had faced last night, perhaps even some of them more cunning. "They're not bad," Darkie muttered. "But still far below me." He wiped the corner of his lips, feeling his adrenaline surge. It had been a long time since he had fought in front of so many people, let alone for such a large prize.

Laksmi stood between them, trying to maintain some distance from the dense crowd. She explained the contest details to Wira and Darkie. "This contest has multiple stages, Wira. There are elimination rounds, then quarterfinals, semifinals, and the final. Each martial artist must win consecutively to advance to the next stage. This could take a full day, or even extend into tomorrow."

"So, we have to fight many times?" Wira asked innocently. "Will I get tired? My Grandpa said fighting for too long can quickly deplete your energy."

Darkie burst into loud laughter, his voice echoing slightly amidst the crowd. "Tired? You? Don't joke, you even beat me without tiring in the forest, you can defeat a bear with one finger! These are just humans! Don't compare their strength to the tigers you fought in the mountains!" Even Darkie shivered slightly remembering the duel with him in the haunted forest.

Laksmi quickly turned to Darkie, giving him a sharp, warning glare. Darkie immediately sobered, though a smirk still lingered on his lips.

Match after match passed, showcasing various demonstrations of strength and skill. Wira watched enthusiastically, occasionally offering his innocent comments that often made Laksmi and Darkie chuckle. "Why does that martial artist keep running, Laksmi? Why doesn't he just punch? Isn't that a waste of energy?" or "That martial artist's move is like my Grandpa's monkey kick, but this one's a bit slow." Darkie would nod in agreement or chuckle, enjoying Wira's often spot-on and honest innocence.

They watched a scrawny martial artist with an incredibly agile fighting style, relying on exceptional speed and nimbleness to evade every one of his opponent's attacks. The man danced across the stage, almost untouched. His opponent, a burly man wielding a large axe with brutal force, struggled to catch him, each swing of his axe merely slicing through the air.

"That man is incredibly fast," Laksmi commented. "He relies on agility to exhaust his opponent's energy, then strikes at the opportune moment. His technique is fluid, like the 'Wind Encircling the Tree' style."

"Hmph, a cowardly technique," Darkie scoffed, spitting to the side. "He has no power. His punches won't hurt unless they land. If I faced him, one grasp would crush him to dust." He flexed his large fingers, as if crushing something.

Wira nodded, observing. "If it were Grandpa, he'd just catch him with a fishing net. Then he couldn't run anymore." Darkie burst into hearty laughter at the comment.

Another match involved a graceful female martial artist who wielded a pair of intricately carved iron fans as her weapons. Each flick of her fans released a sharp wind that could cut, accompanied by dazzling flashes of light. Her movements were beautiful, like a butterfly dancing over a flower. Her opponent, a man with a long sword and a round shield, had to constantly defend himself behind his shield, enduring the relentless wind attacks.

"She uses excellent weapons," Laksmi said. "Her technique is beautiful yet deadly. She relies on precision and the speed of wind to tear through her opponent's defenses."

"Too much flair," Darkie scoffed. "In the forest, that kind of style would just get you eaten by a tiger before you could even flick your fan twice. I could close the distance in an instant and crush her."

"If it were my Grandpa, he'd use rhinoceros hide boxing gloves. Her fans would definitely bend," Wira said, making Laksmi cough to stifle a laugh, listening to the conversation and comments from her two companions. Innocent and amusing, though Laksmi thought they were both a bit idiotic, but incredibly strong.

As the sun climbed higher, the heat in the square began to grow intense. Still, the spectators' enthusiasm didn't wane. They thirsted for entertainment, and each fight offered a different kind of tension. Martial artists' names were called one by one, and fierce battles continued. Wira and Darkie watched intently, each analyzing opponents in their own way. Wira focused more on the effectiveness of movements and whether they were "disturbing moves," while Darkie focused on raw power, weaknesses in defense, and the potential for deadly strikes.

"Are they all that strong, Laksmi?" Wira asked, his eyes still fixed on the arena. "Could they beat my Grandpa?"

"Some are stronger, some are weaker, Wira," Laksmi explained. "But they are all martial artists who have trained hard. This is not an easy feat. And your grandpa... he's a different story. Few can match him." Laksmi knew that no martial artist she knew could defeat Wira's Grandpa. Perhaps not even in the entire martial world. If his disciple was as strong as Wira, what more could be said for his grandpa? She shook her head heavily.

Darkie nudged Wira's shoulder. "Look at that, Brat. That martial artist has big muscles. I bet he can swing a heavy hammer. He has a decent aura of strength."

Wira observed. "But his movements are slow, Darkie. Like a tired cow that just pulled a heavy cart. If it were me, I'd spin him around until he got dizzy. If he fought you, I'm sure he wouldn't last two minutes."

Darkie burst into loud laughter. "Hahaha! You're right, Brat! Speed is important!" Darkie found Wira increasingly amusing. This innocent young man, with his strange comments, made Darkie see the martial world from a different perspective. A more naive and honest viewpoint, without pretense.

The atmosphere around the arena grew increasingly heated. Food and drink vendors circulated, hawking their wares. Some gamblers began placing bets on the next match. The scent of tension mingled with the hope of a grand prize.

Suddenly, drums thundered loudly, making hearts pound. A stout arena official with a thick beard ascended the stage, his voice booming through a powerful, natural megaphone, capturing everyone's attention. "Attention! Next! The highly anticipated preliminary round bout! From the East, a newly registered martial artist with a mysterious aura! Let us welcome! Martial Artist Wira from Mount Tarakan!"

Wira flinched. "My name's called!" He looked at Laksmi enthusiastically, as if this was the most exciting turn to play. "I'll show them ordinary martial artist moves, Laksmi!"

"Remember my words, Wira," Laksmi whispered, a hint of anxiety in her voice, her hand gripping Wira's shoulder tightly. "Don't overdo it. Just make them surrender."

"Ok, Laksmi!" Wira nodded confidently. He stepped towards the arena stairs, accompanied by a mixed chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Wira ascended the steps, greeted by a mixed chorus of cheers and jeers. Some in the crowd scoffed at his plain, simple appearance, while others were merely curious. Among them, several who mastered Laksa commented, "That new kid, he doesn't have any Laksa at all. He'll probably die in the arena." Indeed, Wira possessed an energy different from other martial artists. And he wasn't even aware of it himself, fighting without caring what kind of power his opponents used.

Whispers continued to ripple through the crowd: "Mount Tarakan? I've never heard of a sect there." "He just looks like an innocent kid." Darkie, hearing this, desperately wanted to shut the spectators' mouths, but Laksmi held him back. "Don't, Darkie!" Darkie understood and abandoned his intention.

The arena official continued his announcement. "And his opponent! From the North, a martial artist known for his steel-like punches and invincible body! Let us welcome! Martial Artist Black Beetle from the Cave of Darkness!"

A powerfully built man, his entire body covered in terrifying black beetle tattoos, with a fierce face and glowing red eyes, stepped into the arena. The Laksa aura from Martial Artist Black Beetle felt thick and oppressive, intimidating the spectators, even causing some to take a step back. He was a martial artist known for his steel-like punches, feared in many regions. He stared at Wira with a mocking sneer, clearly underestimating the opponent before him.

Seeing Wira's formidable opponent, some worried spectators, or even those who simply underestimated Wira, urged him to surrender immediately. "Better to give up now than die here, young man," a voice called from one side. "Damn, that kid's opponent is the Black Beetle! How unlucky can he get?"

Bet after bet, the odds clearly favored the Black Beetle. He was, after all, renowned as a brilliant and immensely powerful fighter. Seeing Wira, who had no reputation in the area, only a few people placed bets on him, and those were just for fun.

Wira stepped onto the stage, facing the Black Beetle. The Black Beetle was twice Wira's size and exuded a menacing aura that made the air around them feel heavy. Wira simply offered an innocent smile, completely unintimidated. He observed the Black Beetle's massive muscles, sensed the flow of his Laksa, and pondered the best way to "make him surrender" without causing too much harm.

On the other side of the arena, the official's voice boomed once more. "And after this undoubtedly heated battle! Don't miss the next fight! It will be followed by a bout between Martial Artist Darkie from the Haunted Forest, who just caused a stir at registration, facing off against an equally fierce young martial artist! His opponent is Martial Artist Fire Dragon from the Red Clan!"

Darkie snorted with satisfaction, a wide grin etched on his face. "Alright! My turn won't be long now." He clenched his fist, feeling the flow of Laksa heating within his body. "Just you wait, Brat. I'll show you how the name Darkie will echo throughout this entire city!" He imagined how he would crush his opponent and have his name carved into the history of this contest, solidifying the nickname Wira had given him.

Laksmi could only sigh. Wira and Darkie, two forces yet to be fully unleashed upon the outside world, were now about to be set loose in the Sky Dragon City arena. It would be a long, surprising, and perhaps very, very noisy day. The Stone Arena was ready to witness new history. The tremor beneath her feet felt real, as if the stage itself awaited the thunderous impact of power about to be unleashed.