The Theft (taekook)

31. Seven

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.