Round 3: Cayden Hawke vs. Preston Andrews

Whoever was in charge of these simulations must have smoked some serious shit beforehand.

The young man gazed around, leaning heavily on his glaive and running a few fingers through his hair in bewilderment. It was fucking crazy how real they could make these things seem and he tried to take in as much as he could, carefully eying each bit of his surroundings. He wouldn't have much time before the match would start, and he hadn't had the most polite opponents up to this point. He highly doubted this match would be any different.

Preston's gaze carried over to his opponent. He didn't know much of the guy, but he knew of him. At least somewhat. He knew of his name from the tournament sheets and he knew that he was better friend of Sophia's from the wonderful evening of truth or dare. The Autumn laughed quietly to himself at the thought, if only to fight back a bitter cringe. This would be his last year in the tournament, and his only chance to give this guy a formal ass-kicking. He was going to make it fucking count.

He let his head tilt nimbly to the side, curiously returning the other boy's looks. This Cayden guy had a strange look to him, cold and calculating, strange otherwise against the rest of his appearance which, if anything, seemed warm and inviting. A few stray sparks ran down his arm, reaching out to the cold steel in his grasp and finding it's way into the earth. So far in the tournament, he'd been hard-boiled alive in some weird-ass acid and almost turned into a nice roast under some rather flaming woman, but this fight would hurt the most. Call it a gut instinct.

As soon as the alarm sounded, Preston didn't hesitate to snag the first few moments for himself, twisting the side and bringing his gift to surface. It came and went in an instant, so quick if you had blinked you might have missed it. One moment, it was crackling around him, gleaming off his glaive and singeing the grass around his feet, and the next it was surging out with a snap of his fingers through the large distance between them, towards right where the blond stood.

His ocean-like eyes narrowed as his vision filled with smoke, fogging away sight of his opponent, but like fuck he was just going to stand there and wait for the ash and dust to part away. Preston turned aside, striking his blade swiftly across the ground. A trace of fire and lightning blazing upwards from the earth as he moved, sending his bolt of thunder straight through the darkness again in the direction he had done as before, flames racing after it's trail. His guess was as good as any others whether the messy attack would actually hit or not through the chaos.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't the only one who wasn't giving any moments of hesitation. Out of that dark, toxic cloud came three small, red hot objects. He couldn't be quite certain what they were but had no time to think on it, only act, reflexively throwing his arm up over his face and falling a step to the side. The pain was searing, if only for a moment, digging into his bicep and splattering against his forearms - leaving bits of flesh raw and bleeding.

"God..." Pres bit down on his tongue, reminded himself that this was a simulation, that he had already felt far worse, and let adrenaline keep him alert as he made a run for it, not wanting to stay in one place for too long lest more of those bullets - or whatever the fuck they were - come flying his way again.

He honed in one some of the elder structures, focused on few of the bared-boned buildings, stripped to metal beams. He took this as an opportunity, leaping into the air and letting his power burst from him, reaching out for the beams with thin strips of electricity and propelling himself forward, landing with his feet planted firmly on the sides. It made a horrible sound, a loud creaking echo that rang out through the otherwise desolate wasteland, but he didn't be quiet. Shit, he just needed to be quick enough to get a hit in.

From his new spot, he could see around the clouds, and see Cayden's stupid mug. Shaker. Preston snapped his fingers, sending another bolt the younger man's way.

He curled his fingers around the dull edge of the beams, annoyance causing the metal to creak under his fierce grip. Solar Beam and now Protect of all things? This asshole had an interesting bag of tricks, but he figured it was nothing he couldn't handle. That girl Sarika from the first round, she had a shield too, and a stack of weird ass Youth Novel references to boot. There shouldn't have been too much that could have caught him off guard at that point. Hopefully.

A slight smile crept up onto Preston's face regardless as he witnessed the blonde stagger, satisfied no matter however short lived it was. The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by eerie floating orbs from near every different angle. A wary discomfort immediately weighed him down like iron in the pit of his stomach. Instinct told him to run, spreading his grip to beams further off, nothing wanting to deal with any Luster Purge bullshit that surely awaited him.

It was the cascading effect of the explosions that had him scathed, heat and force battering him around and tearing away at him as he made that final reach for the safety. Pres had missed his mark, crashing into the metal back and shoulder first and letting out a breathless wail as all the air left him. His faithful weapon fell from his grasp and to the earth as the young man struggled to regain his control, twisting and skidding down the rusted steel until he finally halted to a stop.

Preston struggled. It hurt to breath. It hurt to think of the whiplashes against his skin. Yet, he couldn't afford to think of the hurt. Not now. The Autumn took in a deep breath. He'd spent a lifetime building up his power, learning how to carefully control it, and he'd always thought it a waste of time. Now he was nothing short of thankful, his recklessness not quiet having caught up to him yet.

Biting down on his teeth, he put his hand to one of the beams before him, sending currently rippling through the old metal until he could sense every inch of it under his touch and knew he had it under his control. Bolts shattered as he dislodged it from the building, causing the building to stir around him but he did not waver, all-too focused on carrying it's weight. "Shield this, bitch." He muttered under his breath, twisting and sending the beam forward towards Cayden, striking end-first much like a spear.

The beam didn't seem to have met it's mark, thrown off course with several beams of light and sent crashing into the nearby building. He'd lost sight of where Cayden was in the smoke and dust, but he wasn't about to sit still and wait for anything else to come shooting at him. Whilst the cloud was still thick, he took a moment to get his breath back, edging himself around the corners of the beams and leaning back behind the steel for cover. It would be enough to protect him from any quick attacks, he figured.

But he couldn't stay there forever. The Autumn's gaze fell to the ground, quickly noticing a silver gleam among the mess of dead gray, blacks, and browns. He stretched his hand out, eyes slit in concentration as sparks danced away from his fingers. In took a long moment before the glaive wavered, digging itself out of the earth before flying back to him. Preston caught it smoothly in his hand, wondering how much time he'd had left before the frenzy began again.

He took a curious peak around the corner, finally able to spot his opponent again, or more importantly - the huge ass ball of glowing-what-fucking-ever bouncing around in his hands. He gritted his teeth, counting the small breather over and springing back into action, pulling himself several beams away to another edge of the building as the large explosive when hurling towards his direction, shielding his eyes from the smoke and light of the explosion. The beams creaks and crumpled old rust everywhere into the air, the entire structure threatening to collapse.

Pres didn't stick around to be a part of that mess, making a leap for it into the open air and narrowing his focus on the beam he had thrown not a few moments before, letting his feet play magnets again as he made his landing. He focused what energy he could spare without falling into his glaive, lightning trailing out from his blade. He held it forward as a whip, pulling it back and lashing it through the smoke, once, twice, letting his power surge through whatever it touched; be it earth, building, or Solrock.