And the cannon was fired.....

Taehyung could shamelessly declare that his reflexes stabbed him faster than his opponent when in one quick motion the swords that were crossed together on the ground were lifted up however the confounding factor was he did not put a slight effort, just gawked as his sword raised from the ground to above his head followed by a wrenching snag on his wrist.

The unforeseen blow twisted his flanges, lurching it to loosen the constraint on the handle and in the next moment he saw his sword flying away from his ground.

No no no no!!!

Time seemed to slow as he eyed his weapon swirling in the muddy air slowly approaching the ground. He sprinted, no, skedaddled towards the the priced claymore to behold it moments before it lands on the ground. Fleeting towards it, he felt his insides churning with adrenaline as he extended his arm to the sword.

However before his gloved palm could touch the said weapon a blindsided agonizing blow hit his back.
He felt himself landing on his stomach; the buckle of the tungsten belt on his skin encroached into his stomach making an excruciating yelp emit from his thoat.

"AAH!" he yelled, not in pain but in capitulation as right before his eyes his sword hits the ground a defeated useless hand stretched beyond it's wherewithal towards the bested ammunition.

He could only frail helplessly under a pressure on his back, perhaps the foot of his opponent pinning him down.

The gong was rung.

"INCLINE #1 HAS BEEN DEXTEROUSLY CONQUERED BY DARATA. SCORE STANDS 1-0 WITH THREE ATTEMPTS TO GO!"

Some water would be nice.

Applauses rung through the air as Daratian flag was unfurled by a gunner.

"TAEHYUNG WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!" Jongha's howl clobbered over all the hoots from the audience as he stood by the edge violently gripping the reiling.

"GRIP! ALERT! GRIP!" Yoongi vociferated beside him.

This. This was when the first shiver ran down his spine shrinking away the calm that warmed him not long ago. It finds residence in the deepest pit of his stomach, some part immune to his capability of puking it out.

Because not even ten seconds into the fight, he had lost one of the four chances.

As he stands back up, a panic starts to ascend from his trembling knees towards his temples colliding occasionally with bumps of self- vexation in his chest as loud piercing cheers of Darata flowed in the air like stormy wind.

His eyes close shut as he walks back to the centre circle for the commencement of INCLINE #2. He respired in and out to achieve even an ounce of placidity in his blood that flowed in his veins fast enough to burst them.

Jungkook. Think of Jungkook.

What he would have surmised will resolve his perturbation only fanned it more because in that moment he found himself slipping into the disposition of his personality he had oathed to set aside.

The one that cowers on a slight raise of volume; the one that finds solace in warm embraces of his lover; the one that cannot say no. He could not let that happen. Not under any circumstance.

The only solution elucidated in his mind for this was his ring. Therefore in one go he unclutched and plucked away the gauntlet of his left hand and expunged it throwing far on the ground, clutching the ring to his chest thereafter.

His peculiar action instigated an odd quiet in the crowd as he curled his other hand galvanizing the opponent in challenge to start the next incline.

Anaya's forehead wrinkled itself at the failure to understand Taehyung's action.

"Why the hell would he take off his gauntlet?" she hears a low growl beside him only to find the prince of Darata gripping the armrest in defiance.

"Are you in support of my brother, Sehun-ssi?" she muttered glancing towards him fearfully not to offend the other anyhow. Receiving a scowl and a side eye she cowered and look ahead again, yet heard a weak grumble a few seconds later.

"I'm in support of anything that stands against my father." before she could lay down a question further...

...The cannon was fired again.

Pertaining to the first move, the opponent tried to reimbibe the one that had him score the first time but Taehyung's grip was recuperating, much convalescent than the previous.

You are only a human if you make mistake. However if you make the same mistake again and again, you are fool.

And Taehyung may be a lot of things, but he is not a fool. He smirked to himself when the Daratian audience, that facilely overpowered the Araunians, went substantially mum.

His opponent in a frustrated agony striked a basic lunge, the one Taehyung was taught to escape first thing everyday for the entirity of the month.

So he escaped it with ease.

"Yes!" King Kim Songdae fist-pumped the air lackadaisically, but getting a judgemental glare from his wife he quickly feigned to cough into the fist as if he did not care a nickel.

Seemingly a contigent chance of him, Taehyung took this opportunity to charge his first attack of the fight. A simple Remise.

(A remise is a short series of attacks where the attacker does not withdraw his weapon arm between attacks in the series. Something beneficial for an attacker of low strength.)

After creating an opening by striking his silver blade to the dull gold one, he pushed and struck and struck and struck. The opponent kept backing away, shoes reluctantly dragged on the ground like a demurring argument between their soles and the mud under them.

Taehyung could almost rejoice in a ceremony about his tyranny on a man clearly bulkier than him. But when has he ever gotten than fortune?

Right when he had acertained himself of having the upper hand, his opponent contemptuously shattered his delusion.

Evading his attack, the man dropped his body beneath his weapon. He placed his free hand on the ground for support and balance.

As Taehyung ended up somewhat looming over him, he straightened his sword arm and flunged his adversary, and once again Taehyung was on the ground on his back.

Passata Sotto.

An expertised sword move of the adroits, used by masterful proficients. Clearly not a cup of tea of someone trained for just a month.

"DO NOT LET GO OF THE SWORD!!" Namjoon's voice roared.

Taehyung hadn't realized that. He had managed to regrab his sword mid-fall, now however, on his left hand.

He channeled all his strength on the grip to not let go as he thrived in pursuit of getting back up.

Failure.

He was pushed back to the ground with a compelling dynamic kick on his chest, but what was worse was the next moment.

When he felt his naked wrist pinned down by the shoe of his opponent.
What a bafoon to throw away the gauntlet.

He gave another feeble attempt to get up and was kicked back again. This time there was an additional excruciating pain on his wrist that was pressured under the swordsman's weight.

"Endure it brother, I'm aware you can." Anaya mumbeled on the grandstand with her hands joined and eyes squeezed shut beseeching whoever it is up above responsible who enlisting prays.

However her eyes snapped open when a gut-wrenching scream made every hair on her body stand and a shiver run down her body.

"GAAAAAAHH" The prince tore his vocal chords apart when the man not only stood up on his wrist, but twisted the metal pedal of his shoe into his skin and started grinding it.

His hand burned like it was struck by lightening, quite the irony, since the light in his eyes began to fade.

"NO TAE! NO!!" it was Jin to yell.

And in that moment of helplessness, his hand went limp and the sword released.

The gong was rung.

"ANOTHER SHREWD INSIGHT!! AND WITH THAT DARATA HAS PROCLAIMED IT'S CONQUER ON INCLINE#2 AS WELL. SCORE STANDS 2-0 WITH TWO MORE ATTEMPTS TO GO."

Water. He needed water.

Every single cell in his body felt dehydrated, his wrist was practically begging him for rehydration. If the sky could start pouring right that moment, he wouldn't mind. Rather, he may even appreciate the camouflage it could render just for him to cry in peace, for his throbbing wrist, for his aching soul.

"You trained him good, son. I'm proud." Lee leaned towards Sehun, eyes still trained ahead, to whisper in his ear. Sehun rolled his eyes and grimaced back at the ground.

The same gunner was seen jogging towards Taehyung who was still laying on the ground with his wrist clutched to his chest, heaving.

"Your highness, shall you be willing to quit?"

Taehyung's eyes snapped open in utter shock. Is that how low he is being thought of?
"Absolutely not. Load the cannon for next incline." without a feather of hesitation, he ordered and got back up with a jump.

Water.

He clutched the sword in his right hand, left practically inoperative now, and made his way to the centre circle panting with the tip of his sword sketching a jagged line on the ground as it lugged behind.

Taehyung was prepared for the ignominy of not winning even before he put forward his challenge, hence the loud cheering of the Daratians did not bother a diddly squat to him.

However when his eyes roamed around to take in his own subjects, the ones with dissapointed chapfallen faces the yelled this-is-what-was-expected-of-you, he felt humiliated.

A powerful bitterness seathed itself on him while he tasted raw disdain on his tongue. His was angry.

...The cannon was fired

He let his rage consume him as time starts to loose it's gravity and he felt himself charging towards the other man as soon as the loud bang was heard.

"YAAHH"
He screamed to gather all his strength and charged at the opponent who barely may have anticipated a prime or flunge or any other sword moves.

However what he did not forsee was Taehyung to lunge himself completely on him making them both land on the ground with Taehyung unpleasingly wieghing him down.

His head collapsed towards the ground, taken aback, and this was all Taehyung wished for. Next he swiftly lifted himself by his good hand and seated himself right on the opponents chest.

With his poleyn clad knee now pressed against the opponent's throat that was exposed because of the head thrown back.

Using hands would have been futile since one held tight the sword and the other was now non functional so he placed his metal knee right above the bobbing Adam's apple and pressed it. Hard.

The man beneath him flailed like a fish nearing it's demise, for his airway had been efficiently cut off. However much to Taehyung's dismay, he still hadn't let go of his sword. And so, turning as relentless as his father, he pressed down harder.

Constriction of his trachea made the man throw away his sword in a jiffy and started to push Taehyung's knee away with both of his hands.

The gong was rung.

But no. Taehyung was not letting go.

The man twisted, gutted and thrashed but the entire weight of Taehyung on his throat was much trouncing for a pinned down hypoxic man.

One last press of his knee with his entire weight and the man let go of his hands on the royal's knees and brought slamming them violently on the ground.

~Tap-out~

The gong was rung a second time.

"UNBELIEVABLE! UN-BE-LIEV-ABLE!!  WITH A SMASH GROUNDBREAKING TAP-OUT, ARAUNA CONQUERS INCLINE#3 AND STANDS NECK TO NECK NOW WITH THE SCORE OF 2-2 WITH ONLY ONE MORE CHANCE TO DECIDE THE ULTIMATE FATE."

Applauses and hoots like never before roared, Taehyung's ears caught a few songs in his praise but as the sun whiplashed his neck time and again he could only think of a single word.

Water.

He could hear the cannon being reloaded. His opponent, panting bent forwards with hands resting on his knees, was already on the centre circle again.

So with a lugging sword patterning the ground, he started strolling down to the circle moving wavingly as if drunk. His muscles felt like a damp cloth squeezed off the water.
Oh water.

As soon as he fronted the opponent for their last sword, the man stood up straight stern as ever and approached him again.

As the cannon was heard loading up the man harshly gripped Taehyung by his gardbrace and pulled him towards himself as if he weighed nothing.

"I hope you are ready." he said.

Taehyung's dizzy eyes rolled back towards his head that had now started spinning like a wheel.

...The cannon was fired.

And before Taehyung could attack.. Or defend.. Or move.. Or breathe.. He felt the sword smacked off of his hand, offhandedly.

The gong rung. But he could not catch.

Because the next moment the 'peculiar' gold sword pierced through the 'peculiar' slit on his plakart, then tearing his shirt crossed the 'peculiar' slit on his belt and the next moment was seen coming out of the same from the back.

His limp hand held to the sword blade that kept piercing in and in and blood gushed down from his hand pooling by his feet right then. He looked up in contemplation towards the man who pushed the sword inwards more.

He couldn't tell when his knees gave up and he fell on his back but the sword that came through made him land on his side.

He couldn't tell when the screaming wails of his father and the audience white noised into a ringing screach to his ears.

He couldn't tell when the gong went off to lunacy and Sehun had jumped off the fence sprinting towards him.

He couldn't tell anything except one thing.

[-First grandstand to your left. That is where you look when you need support and reassurance. That is where you find your people.]

He couldn't tell anything except one thing.

That when he turned his to the first grandstand to the left,
-It was empty.

All seven of them...

...They were gone.

================================

This was by far the most difficult chapter to write.

Ahem.. Please don't kill me :))))