3 Fighting The Lovely Rival- Part 1 [Surya]

Cheers and shock filled the afternoon air. The audience slid to the edge of their seats to see the decisive moments of the combat, rooting for the last three men standing in the arena. The Holy Ice, from the Glacier that Never Melts, stood in the center, encompassed in a glass dome.

The challenge was simple, reach the final circle and steal the glass dome with the ice. The three competitors relied on three different skills to fulfill the task.

Prince Suryadev, the youth in golden armor, wielded a great longsword and moved nimbly, delivering fast but powerful blows to his opponents. But his opponents were not to be trifled with either. The one armored in blue, Prince Indranil, fired arrows, sharp and swift, from his longbow and rarely missed a target. His never-ending quiver produced a new set of arrows every time he needed one, never running short. The third youth, clad in a black robe, did not carry any weapon; his weapon was his tantra, the force that rushed through him at the whisper of a chant. The mystical threads of tantra created ripples in thin air, weaving air weapons, sharp enough to subdue his opponents.

A young princess looked out pensively at the last three bachelors. There were moments during the enthralling contest that she would almost forget that it was her Swayamvar ceremony and those three warriors were dueling for her hand in marriage. The few princes and noblemen that caught her eye at the start were almost all gone. Now, there was only one person in the arena she had her hopes pinned on. 

The fate of the contest was swinging like a three-way pendulum, tipping this way and that. The court ladies who were chattering endlessly earlier were now silent and awed at the extraordinary display of might and agility. Almost all of them favored the golden prince, Suryadev, but the princess herself uttered a silent prayer for the one in blue, Prince Indra, to emerge as the winner.

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Surya narrowly missed the arrow that grazed his right cheek. He glanced at his fellow competitor with mock disdain. The ferocity was unexpected from Prince Indranil, who was his friend and ally. Surya had agreed to help Indra win over Princess Na'arvi but he did not expect to look like a fool at the end of the contest. So far, Indra was NOT upholding his end of the bargain. He acted in the manner of a love-struck puppy that would go to any length to impress his maiden. Surya decided to have a word with his friend. Light on his feet, he swiftly closed the distance.

Brushing past his friend, he grumbled, "Are you not forgetting something?"

"No. But I delight in your fury." Indra smirked, but that smirk did not last long.

A sharp air dagger came flying at him and tore through his armor, singeing his copper brown skin. The two warriors turned to the direction it came from.

A tall, slender youth, robed in black, stood still on the other side of the arena, with feet firmly planted to the ground. He was not in a hurry to reach his opponents. Instead, his eyes had an icy look, as if hurting his opponents mattered more to him than acquiring the glass dome. His hands were conjuring Tantric air blasts that could be deadlier than any steel. Indra's enchanted armor was impervious to a strike from a physical weapon, but it was powerless against weapons forged from spells.

The black-clad youth held out his arms to his sides, still facing the other two as if inviting them to a challenge. Behind him, the evening sun was setting, causing his long curly hair to form a dark silhouette around him.

Little by little, air particles around him began to weave and form what seemed like five different weapons encircling him. The two friends had to forego their mutual squabble due to more serious matters at hand. Soon as they turned to black-clad youth, all five of the air weapons charged at them full force.

Surya acted swiftly. "Let me take care of the air weapons. You focus on restraining him." 

Indra nodded and immediately reached back to his quiver to grab five arrows. He secured them on his bow and pulled the bowstring as he charged, spinning up in the air. The arrows left the bow taking a curved path, dodging the air weapons, heading straight for the Tantric. But the black-clad youth did not shift from his place. Instead, his attention was focused solely on Prince Surya, who was shattering his air weapons with extreme dexterity.

"Your nemesis awaits you, Prince Surya," Tantric Vidyut whispered to himself and raced towards the glass dome that carried the perpetual ice.