Chapter 5: Chapter 5
ALISTAIR ARSENAL
Etymology -the commander of arch-demons from the pits of hell
OR
The Defender
"He has a heart like cold, frost ice...but a single touch from the warmth of your soul can melt it"
September 2012
An orphan was standing amidst one of the most rugged areas of town. His father died due to an accident last month, mother followed closely behind due to her serious injuries tothe brain.
He had mourned till his throat was dry, heart prickling with the whirlpool of agony as he sat numb for days....but for how long?
He had a younger brother to feed. A house to run, a world to build. Earlier he had never taken a look, all smiles and passion to follow for boxing...it was a drug for him.
Thirty seven championships were at his name making him confident and giving him money, more than enough to keep it all together, all from fighting but today was the day he realized he had nothing and it was a child play that he did in the name of a fist-fight.
The stadium was empty, not a single soul present in the arena. Artificial lights shone like diamond crystals in the air as the steel podium stood in calm silence.
Caramel irises like two precious zircon gems encrusted on a poison dipped arrow were closed in heavy concentration, his brows drawn in determination.
Iron fists shaking from a fight he just fought stopping their tremors but the blood dripping from knuckles continued to flow freely, dribbling like drops of red pearls ready to burn the velvety ground with his temper.
He lost.
Not by a punch neither by a kick...he lost because he wasn't given a single opportunity to attack by his opponent..he lost because he thought his love for boxing would miraculously make him win.
He had fought with boys....today, only today he had fought with a fighter, a real fighter.
Mother, father, passion, identity.....
He had lost his everything.
Because he took it for granted.
Because he took his love for granted.
"Never again." Alistair roared in rage.
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PRESENT:
The stadium shook with the impact of the crowd shouting at ear-piercing volumes.
"THANATOS!" men cheered with their women squealing and shouting in excitement.
They were in thousands, emptying their wallets with huge wide grins across their faces to catch a glimpse of him.
Only VVIP tickets were sold, which were off in an hour of selling. People were crazy for Alistair but they couldn't even know his real name...Thanatos, they called him that, the bringer of death.
His personality was a paradox and opening his pasts was like unleashing the chaos inside Pandora’s box, the ones who got involved were removed from the history and terminated from the country before they could blink.
It was in light that he was a boxer. It was in the dark that he was a military strategist for the country.
Enigma... Alistair Arsenal was something else.
"WE WANT OUR HERO!" People were getting restless...an hour, he kept them waiting for an hour but the curiosity in their hearts keep them glued to their seats.
Eight new fighters have been arranged, fighting as doubles in his place to keep the crowd entertained and sane for a while being.
"Here he comes!" Several women stopped breathing as the coaches of both teams arrived with the opponents on the contrary side of the ring.
It was Alistair vs Draven, the man he had lost at the first time fight in the same place, Draven was his inspiration and he respected him deeply.
Too bad there could be only one king in the empire.
Nothing came easy.... sweat, blood, peace. It was a sacrificial fire and he had surrendered his soul to it completely.
When everyone was sleeping, dreaming, and worrying, Alistair was sweating and practicing. He had climbed up the ranks of boxers, the levels as they called it.
And yet they said he was made a billionaire overnight with luck striking him at the right time, he wanted to laugh at that.....nine excruciating, brutal years of deprived sleep and hardwork were overnight for them.
He took off his robe, keeping his fists locked in the place, veins forming a maze on forearms. His golden skin glistening in bright lights was ripped with sheer force and labor.
Several women had to clench their thighs, he was absolutely addictive and by God's grace so unaware of his effects on the opposite sex... sometimes on men too.
He breathed, blocking out his coach's chanting words of encouragement, cocking his head to a side moving it another way relaxing completely.
Ordinary is extraordinary with the difference of will.
"Ladies and Gentlemen we have two beasts from the heart of Italy. Presenting to you Draven Stone and Thanatos.
The prize for which people burn their lives but couldn't reach is awaiting you, boxers!
The man winning this fight would be given the honor of being the President of the selection committee of Arkalos, not only shaping next-generationfighters of the country but a whopping amount of ten million dollars! And ofcourse, the man left would be awarded eight million dollars for being the second-best in the county.
And HERE it begins!"
Draven's green orbs clashed with furious zirconium irises as he took a stance like his opponent, throwing a vicious punch at the man only for it to be blocked.
Alistair threw a series of fists at Draven's stomach making him groan and soon he returned the favor by attacking Alistair in rage.
Punch by punch not giving the twenty-eight year billionaire time to retaliate.
Alistair defended himself clenching his jaw, waiting for Draven to get tired.
Whispering, hooting, and shouting of the crowd ceased as they watched the two men fighting like it was the game of their life in absolute silence.
Both men were panting, the trophy was just a moment away, they were equally good in strategic fistfights but the outcome was dependent on more than that...it was about wits and mistakes.
Draven stopped for a second moving back still in stance.
NOW
A mighty fist with all the determination left inside Alistair was thrown at Draven's ribs knocked off all the air from his lungs, black spots covering his vision.
1
2
3
The man fainted with exhaustion followed by Alistair who rested on side ropes breathing heavily.
VICTORIOUS.
More powerful.
The winner realized he needed more strength and he was going to build it from scratch again.
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