Nero flew at the large man in front of him, his knives neatly tucked at his sides getting ready to spring forth and take first blood.
Taken aback by the sudden change of the elfs' demeanour, Victor kept his feet planted firmly and braced for the head on collision by covering his vitals.
'This one is different, exciting even, COME AT ME!' He mused.
Six steps from clashing with him, Nero darted left and stretched out his right arm aiming for his opponents calf. He didn't claim to know much of the human's biology so prayed some sort of tendon there would - if severed - severely limit his enemy's movements.
"It won't be that easy."
Victor pivoted his targeted lower leg and then with ease smashed into Nero's stomach with a right hook, winding the far more inexperienced combatant, sending him flying. The left side of the coliseum erupted into chatter and cheers.
"So he was just crazy? For a second there I thought he'd actually land a hit."
"Eh I don't care not like any regular elf stood a chance of beating Victor in the first place."
"Phew. Well I was a bit scared by that smile he looked so damn creepy, freaking Xenos, guess he wasn't shit."
Completely off guard by Victor's quick reaction time and counter attack, the elf scrambled to his feet clutching his stomach, gasping, willing the air back into his lungs.
Scanning the onlooker's faces he realised that not a soul here thought he could achieve victory, yet even then his resolve was absolute and that psychotic look clung to his face.
In between breaths he managed a ragged taunt, "That... all.. that ....you have?".
The large cyborg scoffed then smirked and beckoned for him to try again.
"I ask the same question, I can understand the children's and elderly's patheticness. It was easier to break their bones than a sweat, however from a prime specimen such as yourself I expected more, don't disappoint me."
"Yeah yeah I'm not going down that easily ya sick fuck."
Nero bounced on the balls of his feet as the adrenaline coursed through him, willing his hands to stop from shaking he, this time, slowly and more carefully approached Victor.
The commentator decided now jump to action:
"Well someone looks like they know how to take a beating. Get him Elf-Slayer!!"
Then to the side he chuckled to himself, "This setting is perfect. Usually I only get to announce the start and finish, god I love the colesium arena."
After a few seconds of analysing him, Nero tried again to charge face on at Victor, but was parried and thrown back by his metallic arms. He persisted and pushed for an attack three more times, then backed off to continue circling and observing the impenetrable wall. For the first time in this death battle his smile was replaced by a grimace, he had to wait for an opportunity if he was to lay even a scratch on the enemy.
'There!'
As soon as he found an opening Nero hastily threw himself at his opponent, this time when his blades glanced off of a titanium forearm the cyborg responded by firing an immobilising energy bullet from his other appendages' stun blaster and without ground beneath his feet all Nero could do was twist his body as sharply as it would allow, but it was to no avail.
The bullet nicked the Ilfvan's left shoulder, his body shook and he fell limp at his enemy's boots.
"Looks like yet another win, your skull may be too shattered to join the others on my shelf after the disappointment you've caused." Victor berated the now motionless combatant then spat on him as he raised his fist.
Before the first blow came Nero stared up at the void of night and offered the absent sun his farewells to this life.
'Well that's that then, goodbye Medeis, it was naïve of me to assume I could beat a person who's brought the ends to nearly a hundred of my kind.'
All that Nero could tell was that he was doomed. Weird crunching and cracking noises came from his body. A pathetic whimper escaped from his lips, powerless to stop the onslaught he forced his eyes to glance over and look at the stands.
The elf wasn't sure which he felt more: the physical pain of the endless barrage from the leering mountain bearing down on top of him or the emotional anguish he experienced from looking at the expressions of disappointment on the Ilfvan spectators and the ever-growing amount of awful faces depicting the acceptance of extinction.
'Leave this self pity somewhere else. It isn't like you're the one who has to fight. Assholes, just go away. Don't look down on me...' He felt his consciousness slipping and the life force seeping from his battered body.