The battlefield was eerily quiet after the brutality of Benito's assault on Angelo. William Dangerfield stood at the edge of what remained of the warehouse, his heart pounding in his chest. The cold wind whipped through the shattered windows, carrying with it the scent of blood and dust. Angelo's lifeless body lay in a heap, the horrific scene still seared into William's mind.

  Benito stood a few feet away, his expression one of calm satisfaction. He slowly turned his gaze to William, who felt a surge of anger and fear wash over him. Benito's dark eyes gleamed with an unsettling confidence, as if he had already won this fight.

  "You're next, William," Benito said, his voice low and deadly. "But before we begin, do you want to say anything? Some last words, perhaps?"

  William clenched his fists, metal swirling around his fingertips as he tried to steel himself for what was to come. He had no illusions about his chances; Benito was on a different level. But he couldn't just give up. Not now. Not when so many had died to get to this point.

  "I know what you are, Benito," William said, his voice shaking slightly. "You're just a monster playing with people's lives, all for the sake of a little money. But I'm not like you. I never was. In this fight, I'm the righteous one."

  Benito's lips curled into a smirk, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Righteousness? Is that what you think this is? William, the idea of righteousness in this circumstance is merely a superlative—a word you cling to in order to justify your own actions. But we're all the same here. Greedy, desperate, and willing to do whatever it takes to win. You're no different from me."

  William's grip on his power tightened as he tried to ignore the gnawing doubt Benito's words had planted in his mind. He launched himself forward, metal shards spiraling around him, forming a makeshift armor as he charged at Benito with everything he had.

  But Benito didn't flinch. He simply smiled and, with a flick of his wrist, the space between them shrank impossibly fast. William's momentum was thrown off, his attack missing by inches as Benito sidestepped effortlessly. It was as if the world was bending to Benito's will, obeying his every command.

  "You're not even trying, William," Benito taunted as he dodged another strike, this time countering with a quick jab to William's gut that sent him staggering backward. "I thought you said you were righteous. Shouldn't you be fighting harder for that?"

  William gritted his teeth, frustration boiling over as he tried to land a hit on Benito. But every time he got close, Benito's power would kick in, distorting space and throwing off his aim. It was like trying to hit a ghost—Benito was always just out of reach, always one step ahead.

  The announcers' voices crackled through the battlefield, adding to the tension.

  "William's in trouble!" Announcer 1 exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency. "Benito's toying with him, folks! It's like a cat playing with a mouse before the kill!"

  Announcer 2's tone was more analytical. "William's metal manipulation isn't enough to close the gap against Benito's spatial control. Benito's playing it smart, conserving energy while wearing William down. This might be over sooner than we think."

  William could feel the exhaustion setting in. His muscles burned, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Benito was right—he was being toyed with. This wasn't a fight; it was a slow, painful execution.

  "You look tired, William," Benito said, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Maybe you should just give up. It would save us both a lot of time."

  William's vision blurred as he struggled to stay on his feet. He couldn't keep up with Benito's pace, couldn't predict his next move. He was outmatched in every way. For a brief moment, despair crept into his mind. Maybe this was it. Maybe he wasn't the hero he thought he was.

  But then, as if in response to his darkest thoughts, a sudden surge of energy coursed through him. A blinding light enveloped his body, and William felt something shift deep within him. The sound of coins clinking together echoed in his ears, and he realized what was happening.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, hold on to your seats!" Announcer 1 shouted, his voice filled with excitement. "We've got a jackpot! William Dangerfield just hit the big one!"

  Announcer 2's voice was equally shocked. "This could change everything! William's power is about to get a major boost. Benito might not have such an easy fight after all."

  Metal surged around William, forming an impenetrable armor that covered every inch of his body. His strength multiplied, his senses sharpened, and he could feel the power coursing through him like never before. The metal responded to his every thought, bending and shaping itself into weapons, shields, and more. This was the power he had been waiting for.

  Benito's smirk faltered as he saw the transformation. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. William straightened up, the exhaustion replaced by a newfound resolve.

  "You're right, Benito," William said, his voice cold and steady. "We're all greedy, all desperate. But there's one thing you've overlooked. When you push someone to the edge, that's when they're at their most dangerous."

  Benito narrowed his eyes, preparing to counter whatever William was about to unleash.

  The air was thick with tension as Benito and William faced each other, the remnants of their battlefield strewn with debris and the echoes of past battles. The world around them seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for the inevitable clash that would decide everything.

  Benito was the first to speak, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "You know, William, I've been thinking," he began, his tone cold and analytical. "We've all tried to justify our actions in this arena. Some of us fight for family, others for some misguided ideal, and a few, like yourself, are in it purely for selfish reasons. But at the end of the day, we're all the same. We're trading lives for money. There's no righteousness in that. No matter how noble the cause, we're all complicit in the same bloodshed."

  William's eyes narrowed, the metal encasing his body shifting subtly as he tightened his grip on his power. "You're wrong," he replied, his voice steady. "We're not the same. Some of us might be in it for the wrong reasons, but that doesn't mean we're all monsters like you. I didn't come here to kill for money—I came here to survive, to make something of myself. But you... you're just playing with people's lives like they're nothing."

  Benito chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Survival, wealth, revenge—it's all the same when it comes down to it. We're all just trying to win, no matter the cost. The only difference is that I don't pretend to be something I'm not."

  Without warning, Benito's hand shot out, the space between them collapsing as he closed the distance in an instant. William barely had time to react as Benito's fist connected with his armored chest, sending a shockwave through the metal. The impact reverberated through William's body, but the metal absorbed most of the force, protecting him from serious harm.

  "You think your metal can protect you from me?" Benito sneered, pulling back for another strike. "I can manipulate the very atoms that make up your precious armor. You're only delaying the inevitable."

  William staggered but quickly regained his footing. "You're underestimating me, Benito," he shot back. "My control over metal is stronger than your control over atoms. As long as I'm covered in this armor, your tricks won't work on me."

  The two men circled each other, their powers crackling in the air like static electricity. Benito's eyes narrowed as he calculated his next move, while William braced himself, knowing that this fight was far from over.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Suddenly, Benito lunged forward, the space around him warping and twisting as he attempted to slip past William's defenses. But William was ready. He brought his hands together, and the metal surrounding his body responded instantly, forming a massive barrier that blocked Benito's path. The two forces collided with a deafening crash, sending sparks flying in all directions.

  Benito gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting as he realized that William's control over his power had indeed grown stronger. No matter how much he tried to manipulate the atoms in the metal, William's will was overpowering his own, keeping the metal intact and impenetrable.

  "Looks like we're at a stalemate," William said, his voice strained as he maintained the barrier. "But I'm not giving up. Not now, not ever."

  Benito's eyes flashed with anger. "You think you can beat me? I've never lost, William. And I'm not about to start now."

  The two men clashed again and again, their powers colliding with earth-shattering force. Each blow was met with an equal and opposite reaction, neither one able to gain the upper hand. The battlefield around them began to crumble under the strain of their conflict, the ground cracking and splitting as their powers pushed it to its limits.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is unbelievable!" Announcer 1's voice rang out, filled with excitement. "William and Benito are going head-to-head in one of the most intense battles we've ever seen! Who will come out on top?"

  Announcer 2's tone was more measured, though no less intense. "This fight is a true test of skill and willpower. William's jackpot has given him the boost he needed to match Benito's power, but how long can he keep it up? This could go either way."

  William could feel his energy waning, but he refused to back down. He pushed harder, forcing the metal to respond to his every command, shaping it into weapons and shields as he fought to keep Benito at bay. But Benito was relentless, his attacks becoming more and more vicious as he tried to break through William's defenses.

  "Give it up, William!" Benito snarled, his voice filled with fury. "You can't win!"

  William's response was a roar of defiance as he summoned every ounce of strength he had left. The metal around him surged, forming a massive spear that he hurled at Benito with all his might. Benito barely had time to react as the spear pierced the space between them, narrowly missing his head as he twisted out of the way.

  The spear embedded itself in the ground behind Benito, the force of the throw sending shockwaves through the earth. Benito stared at the weapon, his expression a mix of shock and rage. He turned back to William, who was already preparing for the next attack.

  The once vibrant landscape had been reduced to a wasteland of scorched earth and broken ground, a testament to the brutal battles that had taken place. William could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his muscles tense with exhaustion, but his eyes never left Benito.

  Benito smirked, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "You know what I'm going to do when this is all over, William?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice. "I'm going to take that billion dollars and have a statue made of this moment—the moment I end your life on live television. I'll place it right in the middle of my estate, where everyone can see it. And they'll all know who the true champion is."

  William's gaze hardened, the metal armor covering his body glinting in the fading light. "You're sick, Benito," he spat, tightening his fists. "You don't care about anyone but yourself."

  Benito's grin widened. "That's where you're wrong, William. I care about winning. And right now, that means ending you."

  He lunged forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. William braced himself, the metal on his body shifting to absorb the impact. Benito's fist collided with William's chest, but the metal held firm, preventing the blow from doing any serious damage.

  But Benito wasn't finished. He drew back and struck again, this time with a series of rapid punches that rattled William's armor. Each hit sent shockwaves through the metal, but William stood his ground, refusing to give an inch.

  "This is it, folks!" Announcer 1's voice boomed over the arena, filled with excitement. "The final showdown between William Dangerfield and Benito Garcia! Who will emerge victorious?"

  Announcer 2's voice was more measured, but no less intense. "Both fighters are at their limits. William's metal manipulation has kept him in the fight, but Benito's relentless assault could tip the scales at any moment. This is anyone's game."

  William gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure mounting with each of Benito's attacks. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever—Benito was too fast, too powerful. If he didn't find a way to end this soon, he'd be the one lying dead on the ground.

  And then, in a moment of clarity, an idea came to him.

  "Benito," William said, his voice calm despite the chaos around them. "You're right about one thing. This is the end."

  Before Benito could react, William focused all his energy on the metal in Benito's bloodstream. Iron, a trace element in every human body, responded to his will. He visualized it swelling, expanding within Benito's brain.

  Benito froze, a look of confusion crossing his face. "What... what are you doing?" he stammered, his movements growing sluggish as the pressure in his skull increased. "Stop... you can't..."

  But William didn't stop. He poured everything he had into the iron, forcing it to grow and expand until—

  With a sickening crack, Benito's head exploded in a burst of blood and gore, his body crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap. The battlefield fell silent, the only sound the dull thud of Benito's body hitting the earth.

  For a moment, William just stood there, his chest heaving with exhaustion as he stared down at his fallen enemy. It was over. Benito Garcia, the man who had terrorized the Power Royale, was dead.

  "And there you have it, folks!" Announcer 1's voice was triumphant, filled with awe. "William Dangerfield has done it! He's defeated Benito Garcia and claimed victory in the Power Royale!"

  Announcer 2's tone was equally impressed. "This was a battle for the ages. William's quick thinking and mastery of his powers have secured him the ultimate prize. He is the last man standing, the champion of the Power Royale."

  As the reality of his victory sank in, William felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had done it. He had survived. And now, the billion dollars—and the promise of a new life—were his.

  But as he looked around at the devastation, the bodies of his fallen competitors scattered across the battlefield, William couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He had won, but at what cost? How many lives had been lost for this prize?

  He pushed the thoughts aside, knowing there would be time to reflect later. For now, he had a prize to claim.

  With one last glance at Benito's body, William turned and walked away, leaving the battlefield behind as the sounds of cheers and applause filled the air. He was the winner of the Power Royale—but in the end, he knew, there were no real winners here. Only survivors.

  The arena was empty now, the blood-soaked earth and the twisted remains of battle the only witnesses to the carnage that had unfolded. The cheers of the crowd had died down, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch into eternity.

  In the center of it all stood William Dangerfield, the last man standing, the victor of the Power Royale. He still wore the metal armor that had protected him through the final battle, but it felt heavier now, as if the weight of his actions had finally settled upon him.

  A camera crew moved in, the lead interviewer approaching him with a mic in hand. The world was watching, eager to hear from the man who had defied the odds, who had outlasted and outsmarted every other contestant in the most brutal competition ever devised.

  "William," the interviewer began, his voice crisp and professional, "congratulations on your victory in the Power Royale. The world is eager to know—what will you do with the billion-dollar prize?"

  William looked into the camera, the lenses capturing the depth of exhaustion in his eyes, the blood still splattered on his armor, the hollowness that had settled into his soul. He took a deep breath, the weight of his next words heavier than any he had spoken before.

  "I joined this competition for the money," William said, his voice steady but tinged with something darker, something that hinted at the toll the Power Royale had taken on him. "I wanted to be rich, to live a life of luxury in Hawaii, far away from all this madness."

  He paused, letting the silence stretch as he gathered his thoughts, the memories of those he had fought alongside—and against—flickering through his mind.

  "But things changed," William continued, his tone shifting to one of quiet resolve. "I saw what this competition did to people, what it turned them into. I watched good people die for reasons that, in the end, didn't matter. I can't bring them back, but I can make sure their dreams don't die with them."

  The interviewer leaned in, the intrigue clear on his face. "What do you mean, William?"

  William looked past the camera, past the arena, as if he were seeing something far beyond the present. "I'm going to use the money to do what they couldn't," he said. "Angelo wanted to save his family's bakery. Laurel wanted justice for his mother. Johnny and Jenny Pognin wanted to bail their mom out of jail. Jessy wanted to save her town. These people, they died with unfulfilled dreams, and I have the power to change that."

  The interviewer nodded, the audience hanging on William's every word. "And what about you, William? Will you compete in another Power Royale?"

  William shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "No," he said firmly. "This is it for me. I've seen enough death, caused enough of it. The money will help me make things right, but there's no going back to that life. Not for me."

  The interview wrapped up shortly after, the cameras pulling away as the broadcast ended. The world had its champion, and William Dangerfield was ready to step out of the spotlight for good.

  Later that evening, William found himself standing outside a small, humble bakery nestled in a quiet corner of a city that had seen better days. The sign above the door read Vasquez Panadería, and the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted out, warm and inviting.

  He stepped inside, greeted by the sight of Angelo's parents working behind the counter. They looked up as he entered, their faces lighting up with smiles of gratitude and relief. William had saved their bakery, had given them the means to keep their son's dream alive.

  "Gracias," Angelo's father said, his voice thick with emotion as he handed William a small loaf of bread. "For everything."

  William accepted the bread with a nod, his throat tight with unspoken words. He didn't stay long, knowing that this place—this simple, beautiful place—wasn't his to linger in. It belonged to Angelo, to his family, to those who had fought for something greater than themselves.

  As he stepped out into the fading light of the evening, William looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting the world in shades of orange and pink, the horizon a blaze of color that seemed to signal the end of something old and the beginning of something new.

  He walked down the street, the loaf of bread still warm in his hand, and for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace. The weight of the past would never fully leave him, but as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, he knew he was ready to face whatever came next.

  And so, with the world quiet around him and the sun setting on the final chapter of the Power Royale, William Dangerfield walked on, leaving behind a legacy of both destruction and redemption, ready to live a life that truly mattered.

  The End