The crowd went into hushed whispers, waiting for the second match to begin.
"Z? Must be a pseudonym of some sort. Interesting, people usually don't do that when it comes to fighting," Emerick said, stroking his chin.
"Introducing the first fighter! A mysterious individual only calling themselves Z. They don't have any record of duels and were only accepted because they beat the try-out opponent!" the announcer's voice boomed.
From the right gate walked out the mysterious participant. They were short, standing at around 164 centimetres tall. Wearing heavy silver plate armour that looked easily two sizes too big for them.
They took awkward steps forward. Z's face was obstructed by a silver helmet, covering their entire head so it was impossible to make out any other features.
"Very interesting..." Emerick added.
"Mhm..." Leodore agreed, squinting his eyes.
"And now introducing their opponent! Knight Roven Triald! With an impressive record of 27-2! Give it up for him!"
From the left side emerged a tall, bulky shape. Standing at 182 centimetres along with the sturdy build. Roven was fitted with heavy bronze armour.
His weapon choice unorthodox - a flail with a giant spiked ball on the end. An intimidating weapon as the spiked ball was bigger than Z's upper body. Z cumbersomely walked forward, pulling out two daggers.
"Get ready! 3...2...1! Go!" the announcer called out.
Roven Triald immediately made towards Z, spinning his flail. Z slowly back-pedalled as the giant man closed the distance, bringing down the flail. Z jumping back, narrowly avoiding the weapon as the giant ball hit the ground with a loud thud. Cracking the ground slightly.
Falling on their back because of the unfit armour, Z scrambled back to feet. But Triald was quicker. Kicking Z in the stomach region, launching them rolling on the ground. Yet Z was back on their feet in no time, this time sprinting back all the way next to the walls of the arena.
"What are they doing?" Leodore quizically looked on.
The mysterious fighter stopped. Lifting the left leg first, they removed the straps of the heavy-plated armor boots. Hitting the ground with a clunk. After doing the same with the other foot as well. Now barefoot and with only skin-tight leather pants.
It was obvious that the armour was way too large as the feet looked three times smaller than the armoured boots they just escaped. Tapping each of their feet on the ground Z stretched. And then in a split second, with blitzing speed, started sprinting towards Roven.
The latter had no time to react as Z quickly cut his chest twice, once with each dagger, before quickly jumping away.
"Aha! That's a woman." Emerick chuckled.
"And how do you know that?" Leodore asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Let's just say I'm well versed in these things," Emerick responded with a smile.
Roven stumbled, almost losing his footing, taken aback by the sudden speed and clean technique by his opponent.
"What in the!? You're gonna pay for this!" he shouted out lifting his flail and swinging it around.
Z calmly started walking towards the raging man. The daggers in her hands now had a vibrant pulsating violet colour.
"She must be at the 3rd stage of Mana focus," Leodore asserted. Now slightly worried because that could end up being his next opponent.
"The violet mana colour. I think it's sound magic. An uncommon affinity, she keeps getting more and more interesting," Emerick chimed in.
The flail was spinning and dizzying speeds now as the ball swirled around in the air. With a scream Roven lunged forward, bringing the ball down from the right side towards Z. But the mysterious fighter seemed unbothered as she took another step forth as the ball closed the distance at incredible speeds.
Abruptly she swung one of her daggers, hitting the flail. The chain gave out a loud clank as the spiked ball flew past her. Hitting the arena wall with a powerful impact, causing a giant crack.
The flail was now only a metal stick with a broken chain. Roven stared bewildered at his now useless weapon.
"But how? I..." he said and took a step back, blood still dripping as it seeped through the gashes in his armour.
Z followed him, taking a confident step forward.
"I-I forfeit!" Roven screamed out, raising his hands in the air.
"Looks like Roven Triald is unable to continue! Our mysterious guest improves to one win and zero losses! Z is moving on to the next stage!" the announcer wailed out. The crowd now clapping for the winner.
Taking her armoured boots, Z walked out through the gate. While Roven was escorted to the medical tent, where a doctor and a hired healer mage were deployed, to tend to his injuries.
"I must say, I'm starting to enjoy this. Quite a few intriguing people to fight," Emerick admitted with a nefarious smile.
"Unusual to say the least," Leodore nodded.
"Oh! Looks like my fight is up next. I guess we shall talk later after I get my daily warm-up," Emerick said, getting up from his seat. With a smile, he walked away.
"Good luck..." Leodore replied, a thrill to find out about the man's abilities growing in him.
"Soon a must-see fight will happen! Forget the stool and focus on this action. As the infamous Vickson "Tornado" Forebough will go head to head with the foreign visitor Emerick Lauremont, the son of Bruno Lauremont - one of the council members of the Free Cities and one of the most influential people in Acoptia. Don't miss this one!"
The surname of the man finally clicked. Lauremont was one of the founding families of Free Cities and their dynasty for a large part still holds a lot of power there.
Free Cities are the youngest region in Acoptia. It was established by merchants who had left the Human Kingdom. Developed around the year 9800, the merchants' main idea behind the Free Cities was that of equality, freedom from tyranny, and prosperity.
Those ideals remain strong there to this day. It is run by a council rather than one ruler, with the general masses having way more say than anywhere else.
"Hey!" Berteram suddenly interrupted Leodore's thoughts, scaring him.
"You looked good out there, clean fight. Keep it up Leodore. It seems that you will have some tough competition."
"Old man it's you... Thank you and yes I'm starting to grasp it. This year's candidates are looking extremely dangerous," Leodore confessed.
- Sitting down next to Leo, Bert smirked.
"Make sure you watch every single move closely. Anything and everything you see can help you win a fight," Berteram warned.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen! It is time again. Our next match is going to begin! Let's introduce our warriors!"
"On your right side, we have Vickson "Tornado" Forebough. Making a name for himself by his wild style of fighting he has obliterated everything in his path to amassing a record of 41 wins and only two losses!" the announcer once again screamed out. The crowd burst into loud cheering as Vickson walked out into the arena.
Sporting heavy black armour along with a helmet. Both the helmet and the shoulder pads of the armour had spikes. His weapon - a giant mace, with a metal spiked skull on the end of it.
The man stood around 193 centimetres tall along with a wide muscled frame. The nickname "Tornado" was the perfect way to describe what Forebought was known for. His special move the Tornado was achieved by him spinning with the club so fast that nothing can stand in its way.
"And introducing his opponent! Our guest from the Free Cities. The enigmatic Emerick "The Slithering Reaper" Lauremont! With an incredible record of 84 wins and only 3 losses. With such a jaw-dropping record at only 31 years of age, he's a must-see attraction!" the announcer boomed out.
"84 wins? That's insane..." Leodore let out.
Stepping out of the shadows, Emerick had a confident smile on his face. His weapon an unusual one. In his hand, he held a scythe. Its long sharp blade glittered in the sunlight. The long handle was made out of a green metal snake wrapped around a wooden grip.
The weapon was massive, at least two meters in length and the blade was at least a meter long. The scythe looked ominous and looked extremely fitting with Emerick. The man also wore no armour and was in the very same clothes.
"Okay! Get ready competitors!" the announcer's voice cut through the roaring crowd.
"3...2...1! GO!"
And with that, another fight was on its way. Vickson stepped ahead, slowly marching towards Emerick. Stabbing his scythe into the ground and leaving it in, Lauremont smirked. Gesturing for his opponent to come.
"Come on big boy. I don't have all day but let's have a dance. I need my stretches," Emerick spoke with confidence. Weaponless he spread his arms, once again taunting his opponent to get him.
"If you are so keen on dying then so be it!" Vickson shouted, breaking out into a dash. Winding up a strike he quickly closed the distance between him and his opponent. Emerick smiled jumping backward, hopping on top of his weapons handle, which stood erect in the ground.
Bringing down a powerful attack Vickson roared out. But Emerick was a step ahead, jumping from the handle to the head of Forebought before promptly hopping down. Now behind his opponent, he bowed looking at the crowd as they exploded into laughter and applause.
Vickson whipped around at an unexpected speed for a man his size, but as he was used to the motion of spinning it had given him the ability to clear a 360° area around him in split seconds. Throwing a backhand strike as he turned around to face Emerick. But once again Emerick seemed to be predicting his movements as he ducked the strike and rolled backward.
"Ahaha big boy. I don't think so." Emerick chuckled.
"Don't mock me!" the rage-filled deep voice of Vickson shot back. His mace gaining a faint blue mana colour.
Grabbing the mace with both hands, the man started spinning. As he spun his speed increased, becoming almost a blur in a few seconds. The crowd wowed and whistled as they knew they were seeing the famous Tornado move.
Suddenly the spinning Vickson shot out of his position towards Emerick. The spinning created wind around him, carrying dirt, sand, and dust with it. Emerick laughed jumping to the side of the deadly Vickson. As he was about to celebrate and taunt once again, Forebought changed his direction in a second, continuing to chase him.
"Woah!" Emerick exclaimed jumping and twisting in the air, away from the raging "Tornado". Keeping on the flips he made way towards his scythe.
Finally reaching it. Grabbing the scythe he spun it around before gripping it with both hands. Vickson now spun in place some seven meters away.
"Can't get me from there, big boy!" Emerick taunted him.
Unexpectedly, in a fraction of a second Vickson stopped spinning as he released the mace straight at his opponent.
Emerick's eyes widened as he barely had any time to react. Bringing his scythe up to block with the handle.
"Shi-" Emerick blurted out as the mace made impact with the handle. The force of the blow sent Emerick flying. Zipping into the arena wall with a loud crash.
The spectators gasped in shock as they waited for the dust cloud that formed from the blow clear.
"Holy shit... Is he okay?" Leodore stood up from his seat, straining his eyes trying to make out what had happened through the dust.
The place went silent in anticipation. Suddenly out of the cloud of dust a sound pierced the silence. A clap. As Emerick stepped out of the dust with a smile.
"I must concede. You surprised me with that one. If it was anyone else maybe you would have won even," Emerick spoke out. His lip and his forehead had blood dripping down from them.
"But I am not someone else. And now... It's my turn," his smile vanished, replaced by a blank stare that reeked of bloodlust.
Clasping his scythe he used Mana Focus as the blade lit up with a very vibrant light green colour. The metal snakes that decorated the handle suddenly lit up, as its red gemstone eyes started shining. And it moved, the whole scythe started shifting.
Emerick swung it and as he did the scythe grew in size. Launching towards Vickson, who stood 50 meters away in the middle of the arena.
"In the name of the great light, what is that!" he shouted, scrambling backwards as the growing scythe chased him.
Wrapping around the waist of Forebought the snake handle stunned him as the blade stabbed Vickson cleanly through the chest.
He let out a groan as blood poured out of the wound. The blade along with the handle unwrapping and slowly retracting into normal size. Vickson hit the floor with a crash.
With the scythe now back to regular Emerick turned around and walked out of the arena.
"My scythe is no normal scythe. It's an artifact called "Serpanythe". Its handle is a snake that can extend its body length at my will and wrap around enemies like a real snake. Difference is... It strikes with the blade and not with teeth." Emerick announced as he left.
"But It does take quite a bit of mana. The more the length the more mana it requires."
The crowd was still shocked by the turn of the events, whispering to each other.
"Wow... What an ability, he's strong." Leodore said sitting back.
"Not only that ability. That man seems to have good mastery over mana focus too. Also, poison magic, how fitting." Berteram added.
"A-And the fight is over! Emerick "The Slithering Reaper" Lauremont wins! Now a record of 85 wins and 3 losses!" the announcer let out with a shout.
"It seems today we will need the use of the medical tents quite a lot..." Berteram mumbled out.