The sound of flesh hitting flesh was nothing new.

The rules for sparring were brutal and efficient. You always attacked with everything you had regardless of how you felt about the other person. Showing kindness in training was as good as wishing death upon someone in actual combat. The wizards had a healing branch in their association and provided the combatants with interns, novices, and an on call full-fledged Paintaker. Paintakers weren't the leaders but were still in the upper echelon of the healing association. It might sound less impressive if an outsider heard that, considering the fact that no one in Under Arch would typically be allowed to complete their journey to Demi-god, but for the purpose of repairing flesh and bone it was more than adequate.

If someone was still breathing the Paintaker on duty was obligated to keep them alive. To her knowledge, Merriweather had never heard of a Paintaker failing to save a life except in circumstances where the patient had literally dropped dead before they could travel the short distance across the sparring zones.

Merriweather had reminded herself of all this because the first fight between Jeanne and Ruth was shoring up to be over quickly and savagely. While she wasn’t all that surprised after taking his measure, she was a little disappointed that the big fighter seemed to be all talk and no substance.

A quick few punches gave Jeanne the confidence to instantly suppress Ruth. Ruth himself hadn’t seemed to understand that the circle that he was fighting in had somehow been created by his goddess to condense the area into a place where magic couldn’t happen. He had tried to cast different types of magic on Jeanne in rapid succession, failing each time. Rather than guarding himself he seemed intent on trying to grab Jeanne and force him into a grappling match rather than use any skill.

Maybe he doesn’t have any other skill?

Merriweather made a note to have him pulled out of the circle before the healers were called so they wouldn’t waste time being confused that they couldn’t use magic when he inevitably required healing.

Ruth went down painfully when Jeanne finally humored him by allowing Ruth to grab his shoulders like he’d been trying for the last minute. Howling in triumph Ruth had tried to headbutt Jeanne. What followed was a few quick moves were Jeanne stepped in closer to Ruth, broke his hold, kicked out his legs from behind, and rode him to the ground while coiled around the Tiefling's arm.

Jeanne broke the arm without hesitation. He rolled away and got to his feet, already looking at Merriweather for approval or for instruction, she wasn’t sure which.

Merriweather just narrowed her eyes at him, a little disappointed despite herself. Jeanne you should know better.

As if sensing the danger behind him, Jeanne spun around just in time to see Ruth reaching for him with his good hand. Ruth almost managed to palm his head before he stepped to the right, jabbing a quick left into Ruth’s face as he passed. The sound of the nose breaking was loud in her ears as she watched, and there was some appreciation in her eyes for the way Ruth hadn’t really actually screamed in pain yet. When his nose broke and his head snapped up and back his golden eyes had actually followed Jeanne’s movements. The free and unbroken arm had started to track to the right with obvious purpose.

Anyone could see that Ruth hadn’t thought past capturing Jeanne with his good arm.

Jeanne brought his shoulders together and kicked at Ruth’s knee. The Tiefling staggered, his arm falling away from Jeanne as he lost his balance. As he began to look up to keep track of Jeanne he was too slow to do anything other than receive Jeanne’s elbow to his temple.

Ruth’s arm dropped to his side.

Ruth dropped face down and lay unmoving.

Short. Brutal. Merciless.

That was how it had happened the first time.

Merriweather stood up and noticed that one of the novices from the healing branch had already seen what was going on and had stopped near the edge of the pit. This was a first come and first serve sort of practice for the healers so they were always on the lookout for brutal battles so they could practice.

Jeanne seemed to be mindful of the circumstances of the circle as well and had reached down casually to grab Ruth’s foot and drag him out.

Honestly, it was for the best this was over as quickly as it was. She had other shit to do and it was nice that this had only taken up less than fifteen minutes.

The novice healer was bent over Ruth working on his arm first. She straightened it out, and even Merriweather paused for a moment as the sickening noises of the arm being put back into place sounded out. Entirely unphased, the novice squatted down, almost sitting on the backs of her heels, and sent her senses inward. The bone mended, the muscle started tying itself back together seemlessly, and then mercifully the process was hidden by the skin of his arm that was stretching itself back into place. Merriweather was very interested in the process but it was hard to watch.

Strangely the clothing on Ruth’s arm had parted slightly allowing the broken fracture through and was now slowly covering the spot, repairing itself.

Like gleaming scales…

The healer sent a casual wave of her hand over his lower body and then paused for a moment on the knee that Jeanne kicked. Without any indication of squeamishness she pressed down hard on the top of it and moved it around. It looked like it wasn’t even being held in place by anything. The healer went to work, and in under a minute she pressed down again and moved her palm across the top trying to reproduce the shiftiness of the loose knee cap. When it didn’t move as much she nodded, apparently satisfied.

She moved to his head and her palm paused, frozen.

Merriweather followed the gaze of the healer and realized what the problem was. Ruth’s eyes were open and he was studying the healer with those knife-like golden irises of his. He hadn’t made a sound. Merriweather wasn’t sure how long he had actually been awake but she could see the anger that simmered in his expression just fine.

The healer slowly reached toward his nose and touched the tip, watching his response. Ruth didn’t move, simply stared directly into the healer’s face. She blinked a few times and then smiled down at him. If anything, the healer smiling seemed to alarm Ruth more than anything. For a moment Merriweather was certain she would have to quickstep over and stop him from trying to murder her. That wouldn’t end well. Healers were fully capable field surgeons and could wield their mana like a scalpel. It was far more likely that with her hand on his face she would simply be able to cut into him before he could hurt her, especially with his shit skill.

The moment of danger passed and Ruth’s nose was fixed. The healer immediately seemed to lose interest in him and started to walk away.

Ruth watched her leave for a long second as if confused. Like he really had no idea what the hell that had been about. Then he got up… and walked past Jeanne toward the circle shaped like a dragon. Jeanne turned to watch him go back into the circle and Merriweather didn’t miss how the veteran slowly clenched his fists.

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The healer had stopped as well and turned to look over her shoulder, surprise on her face.

When Ruth reached the middle of the circle he turned around and looked at Jeanne, upright and alert.

Jeanne didn’t look back at Merriweather for a sign and instead headed into the circle.

Merriweather smiled.

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Ruth was no stranger to pain. When you’re a dragon there is ever so much more of you to wound. Things get under your scales, food and bone gets stuck in your teeth, sometimes food even fights back and manages a lucky blow or two.

Basically Ruth was like any predator with claws and a mouth full of teeth, he was used to getting smacked in the mouth, the face, taking abuse to every part of him that he extended. He wasn’t exactly going into places where food bent down and let him pick it up!

That being said, the smaller form would take some getting used to, what with the way it communicated pain to him. Pain was an indication of where damage was taken so it was useful. If anything, should Ruth praise his new body for being very eager to tell him where his damage was?

“Gotta say I’m impressed you didn’t scream... “ Jeanne said as he moved back into the circle.

Scream? Why? For who?

“Pain screaming only emboldens the enemy,” Ruth said flatly.

Talking was a waste of time so Ruth stopped immediately. He lowered himself slightly because he had acknowledged the fact that Jeanne was tricky prey. Ruth was used to overpowering creatures but Jeanne was all bendy and fast and tricky. It was like fighting one of the deceptive grand serpents, the ones with intelligence that could shit talk you and cast spells in the same breath. This time he didn’t have magic, his breath, or his huge body to rely on.

The fact that he didn’t have magic really rankled him. Would this Jeanne even be a rival to him if he could just vaporize him? That Devouring Plasma Wave thing he just got was looking pretty good to him now… Wouldn’t it be a good time to try it?

Ruth brightened slightly with an excited expression. If he circled around Jeanne and put Merriweather behind him he could probably get them both…

Jeanne brought Ruth out of his rich fantasy life by moving closer toward him. A few steps away now.

His hands were in front of him held into loose fists and he was approaching with a wide stance. Ruth eyed the stance, and for a moment he let his own body mirror the stance. Jeanne paused for a moment but seemed like he was actually being less cautious now that Ruth was trying to mimic him.

That was fine. Ruth had learned that to fight the deceptive intelligent serpent kings you had to make them underestimate you. Otherwise even if you managed to trade blows they would just escape and slink away.

Jeanne moved in and punched straight toward his face.

Ruth moved his head to the right and stepped forward, dropping his hands from their guard position and reached out with both hands as he rushed forward trying to tackle Jeanne. For his trouble he took two more punches to the face in a rapidfire way when Jeanne simply took a step back and punched out twice more. The fact that Ruth was stepping into the punches didn’t help him any and he felt his momentum stalling.

Ruth stumbled a few steps forward and started to right himself as he realized that he didn’t have enough balance left to try and take Jeanne down. Almost as if he were taunting Ruth, Jeanne saw him start to step back to regather himself and jumped forward, grabbing one of his arms and pulling him forward with one arm and smashing him in the face with his elbow. As he started to fall back Jeanne pulled him forward again and Ruth lifted his arm to block an elbow that never came. He stumbled forward and fell, feeling Jeanne had slipped around behind him and was pushing him down and kicking the back of his knees.

Darkness.

Ruth sat upright and stared at the little girl as she waved a hand over him. He hurt a lot but did nothing as he studied her. Her eyes were a light brown and she seemed to like baring her teeth at him. He had thought it an aggressive gesture but she kept healing him. Ruth was somewhat of a stranger to magical healing. He knew of it, in a loose sort of ancestral way, but had never experienced it before today.

Ruth tilted his head slightly and the healer bared her teeth wider at him.

“No, no, it was my pleasure,” she said in a lilting voice.

“When someone says that you say it was your pleasure, back to them.” Jeanne said from the side.

“It was your pleasure,” Ruth said tersely, deciding it cost him nothing to appease the woman who could heal. The woman straightened and stood up. An amazed expression appeared on her face. He knew it was amazed or at least surprised because it was an expression he was intimately familiar with, worn by prey when he popped out of hiding and startled them.

Ruth hopped to his feet and swished his tail experimentally while he checked his body. The healer did good work. He was sore in an ever increasing variety of places but still functional. Instead of being dispirited Ruth was getting more and more excited.

This Jeanne must be a mighty warrior of his people. But like all the mighty foes before him he would fall to Ruth eventually. When Jeanne inevitably fell, crushed beneath his boots, Ruth would watch him being healed and try not to feel too superior. It was the least he could do since Jeanne was taking his temporary victories very graciously.

Mad respect for the elite warrior of this crazy city where they had invented circles to torture each other in.

Ruth moved back into the circle and turned around. Jeanne was staring at him now with a solemn look. A look that caused Ruth to bare his teeth.

Come. It won’t be long until you are broken underneath me.

⇶⇶⇶⇶⇶⇶⇶⇶⇶⇶⇶

Many had stopped and were now silently standing around the dragon shaped space. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh were slower and more methodical now. Where before they had been crisp and heavy now they were dull and infrequent.

Merriweather knew from the way Jeanne was wincing and the way he was opening and closing his hands between blows that he was starting to struggle. The simple action of hitting Ruth for this long had been starting to actually break the man’s hands. Perhaps, when Ruth went down this time Merriweather should tell him to have the healer attend his hands?

Another heavy blow caught her attention and she looked up just in time to see that Ruth had actually lowered his stance and turned his head, catching the fist with the side of his horn. It was an improvement over what he usually did, which was just get punched in the face.

Ruth had been incapacitated with broken bones six times. This did not include the number of times he had been incapacitated because he’d been knocked out. The novice who was attending him was starting to breath heavily in a way that concerned Merriweather.

It concerned her because the novice was obviously getting tired but the breathing was taking on a dreamy aspect, as if she were really starting to enjoy the process of healing Ruth. From what Merriweather understood, healers took on a small margin of the pain of their patients. A necessary sacrifice to understand the danger.

Thus far she had waved away the other novices and interns as well as the attending Paintaker when they had offered to take over. Somehow that made Merriweather more worried.

Despite the number of times he had been ‘felled’ for lack of a better term, one thing could be said about Ruth in the positive. He was slowly adjusting to Jeanne. It was no longer as simple as moving in and picking him apart. Jeanne had actually started to give him a respectful distance that he minded while he chopped into the bigger Tiefling. He also had to be aware of another facet of Ruth that he had apparently been unready for. Ruth’s tail was tricky and seemed to move independently of his body at times. It threw small rocks, kicked up dirt, and even tried to tangle into Jeanne’s legs whenever the man tried to go around Ruth.

Another large thud.

“It’s like listening to the butcher all day, just slamming a cleaver into the meat over and over…” Solace muttered next to her, startling Merriweather.

“What are you doing here?” Merriweather asked in surprise.

Solace gave her a strange look. “It’s time to deliver him to the goddess?”

Merriweather blinked rapidly as her mind shifted gears.

Another heavy thud followed by a softer thud.

Ruth was facedown once more and Jeanne was trying to drag him out of the arena. He paused when he was halfway and put Ruth’s foot down, the man bent over and put his hands on his knees taking slow and even breaths…

Two of his friends came out from the crowd and silently took up a boot in each hand and dragged him into the grass. The healer almost skipped toward Ruth, her face flushed as she gleefully smiled down at the unconscious Tiefling and started her healing.

Merriweather covered her face with her hands, wondering if insanity was contagious.