Today's the day for Genesis to begin.
The afternoon sun shone onto the arena, crowded with trillions of spectators from across the realms. Gods, humans, angels, demons, and even animals were curious to watch the most anticipated event of the entire realm of existence.
This also includes the souls of humans who are long deceased, since they will be damned to Tartarus along with the rest of humanity if their creators were to prevail. It's necessary for them to witness this grand and historic event.
The arena was located in the highest planes of heaven and was used for events like gladiator fights, godly sports events, football matches (yes, gods do enjoy modern-day sports from time to time), and currently, the battles that will determine whether humanity lives or perishes. The arena was massive enough to hold trillions of spectators; the entire arena was enchanted with magic so that even the furthest of onlookers could witness the events down on the stadium.
The stadium below was as large as a football field and had a flat, sandy floor. The seats for the spectators were soft and generated cool temperatures for comfort. Rectangular mini tables were arranged in front of the seats for spectators to place their food and drinks. The divine audience was exuberant and thrilled; they couldn't wait to see humanity humiliated and swiftly defeated. And wanting to prove Michael wrong about them fearing mankind.
Humanity, on the other hand, was anxious and afraid. For the next thirteen days, their fates will be decided through the battles between man and god. All of mankind knew that if they were to lose, they'd be denied the ability to live. They trembled and sweated buckets even when sitting on the cool seats. Every human has the same thought in mind:
They have to win. For the sake of their survival, they need to win Genesis.
In the VIP section located at the top of the arena, the chief gods sat in luxurious seats, enjoying the comfort and relaxing air from the air conditioning. On the circular table, there were varieties of candy and sweets for the gods and sapient teapots to serve them tea and other beverages. The chief gods chattered and laughed, confident in their chosen fighters. Zeus can't wait to see the smile on Michael's face crumble into despair when they beat his representatives.
Just below the VIP section, there was another box for the gods of higher positions. While it lacks the air conditioning of the VIP section, it is still more luxurious than the standard seats. Inside, the Greek god of wine, Dionysus, the Egyptian goddess of fertility, Hathor, and the Celtic god of the sun, Lugh, sat on their beach seats, with trays of food next to them.
But unlike the chief gods and many others, Dionysus and Lugh weren't as pleased. Their names are not on the list of God's Fighters, so they don't have the opportunity to fight on the arena itself.
"This is blasphemous." Lugh hissed. "Why am I not in there?!" Furious, he swiped his tray of food with his spear, Gae Assail, causing the delicacies to tumble onto the floor. To vent more of his anger, he kicked his seat and pouted like a spoiled child.
"Lugh. You made a mess. And you're right." Dionysus sighed. "I'm one of the Twelve Olympians; why did Father choose me as one of the fighters?"
"What are you going to do?" Hathor teased. "Spill wine on your foes and make them drunk."
A vein popped from Dionysus's forehead at this insult, first by calling him a drunkard, and now she's insulting his powers?! He can't catch a break. "Well, I don't see you having the capabilities of combat." He countered. Hathor's smile faded, and she turned away from him and his harsh truth.
On the other side of the arena, there was another VIP section. This one is reserved for the archangels. Michael and Gabriel sat in their seats, facing the arena below. Unlike the gods, they had servants dressed in armour to serve the two drinks and food. Michael snapped his fingers, and the window in front of them opened itself, allowing the two to hear the sounds of the arena's stadium.
"Are you ready, Gabriel?" Michael smirked.
"Yes." Gabriel replied and took a sip of his iced blended chocolate. "I'm sure our human fighters can beat them with our bonds."
They heard the back door open and were pleased to see the figures enter.
Three other archangels enter the room, their wings folding so they can fit inside. One of them was red-haired and had brown eyes. He was tall, enough to nearly reach the ceiling. He donned a doctor's coat, suitable for the healer of heaven.
"Raphael!" Gabriel greeted him and gave him a brotherly hug. "It's been a while."
Raphael hugged Gabriel back, and to the messenger's shock, he hugged him tight to the point he could feel his back could be broken in any moment. "Jeez!" He signalled for his friend to let go. "Man! That was hard! You could've broken my back!"
"LONG TIME NO SEE, GABRIEL!" Raphael roared in enthusiasm, with the other archangels covering their ears. The healer of heaven laughed with joy and patted Michael on the shoulder. "I heard you confront the gods and invoke Genesis! That's some courage you got there!"
"Hello there, Raphael. And thank you." Michael smiled and turned to face the other two archangels. One donned yellow robes and was carrying an encyclopaedia book; his hair was made of literal flames, illuminating some heat in the room; his eyes were grey and cloudy, filled with knowledge and wisdom.
"Greetings, Uriel." Michael said. Uriel nodded and sat down in an empty seat, beginning to read his encyclopedia. Turning to the other archangel, he was wearing a white top hat with the Christian cross and a black business suit. Unlike the others, he was less humanoid, with four eyes levitating beside his absent head.
"Ah, Metatron." Gabriel patted him on the shoulder. "How are you?"
"Great." The Speaker of God replied; he turned to Michael, and while he doesn't have a face, he could tell he was giving a concerned look. "Is it true?" Metatron asked. "That the gods have decided to purge mankind?"
Michael nodded. "That's why I challenged them." Uriel whistled, and Raphael gave Michael a thumbs up. Metatron's four eyes blinked in shock, but he soon nodded and took a seat.
"And his bond?" Metatron pointed to the arena, and Michael understood what he meant.
"He already bonded." Michael confirmed. "Now, our fighters can have the chance to par with our adversaries."
The sun was suddenly blocked by a colossal cloud, darkening the entire arena. It parted some space onto the commentator's box floating above the arena, as if to make a spotlight. There, a four-armed and four-legged man materialised in the commentator's box. He also had eight eyes, giving him the look of a humanoid spider in a colourful outfit.
The man approached the microphone and spoke so that everyone in the arena could hear.
"Ladies and gentlemen." He greeted. "Boys and girls. Angels and demons. Those of us whose gender varies from myth to myth. I'm glad you all could come. The time has come for the final clash between humanity and the gods, which is about to unfold. Are you all excited?!"
The gods all roared, cheered, and whooped.
"Of course, we're all excited!" The man sat down on his seat. "By the way, the name's Anansi, the Akan spider god of tricks and the teller of all stories! I'll serve as your commentator! Everybody! Brace yourselves for the next thirteen days for the most anticipated event of your lives!"
The clouds parted to allow the sun to shine on the stadium again.
Anansi took a deep breath and screamed into the microphone.
"EVERYBODY! ARE YOU READY FOR GENESIS?!"
The gods cheered again.
"And it's time for the first round of the final duel of man and the gods!" Two new figures materialised beside Anansi. Michael can identify the one on his left but is new to the one on the spider god's right. "And before we get into it, we have some special guests to comment on this round. We'll have our own special guests for each round to give us some commentary on the fighters."
Anansi greeted the man on his left, shaking his hand and tending the ravens on his shoulder. "Everybody! You know who he is! He's the Allfather, the head of the Nordic pantheon! Say hello to ODIN!" The gods cheered and threw flowers onto the arena, making a beautiful mess. Odin had no response to this and simply sat down.
"And for our special guest on the human side, We have the brother of the terror of the Romans, the co-leader of the Huns. He is Bleda!" Unlike Odin, the gods didn't cheer for the human special guest, with only some claps being emitted from the human spectators. Nonetheless, Anansi still shook Bleda's hand, and the latter took his seat, arranging his long robes to make himself comfortable.
"Now." Anansi added. "You might be wondering why we have the Allfather and the co-leader of the Huns here with us. Well, they are a hint to the first round's fighters!" The sun shone onto the left entrance, the god's entrance, and a figure slowly stood out onto the arena.
"And here's the first fighter for the gods!" Anansi took another deep breath and continued. "Tell me, folks. Who is one of the many sons of Odin? Who is the Nordic god of justice, war, and the protector of oaths?"
The archangels had a closer look at the first fighter for the gods. He was tall, even for a god, with a powerful neckline. He wears a heavy set of grey armour and an ornate collar around his neck. And most prominently, he has only one arm, wielding a golden sword.
"Who sacrificed his right arm to bind the savage wolf Fenrir? Whose name inspired the day Tuesday?" Anansi continued. "If you all know the answer, well, you are right!" Everyone could get a better picture of the god as he stood near the centre of the arena. The spectating gods cheered at the sight of him. The god simply raised his golden sword to the audience, causing the gods to roar with more excitement.
"He encourages courage and bravery in fighters on battlefields; he is the sworn protector of oaths! He is our first fighter for the gods! Everyone! Give a round of applause to the mighty TYR!"
Raphael whistled at the sight of the Norse god of war. Gabriel cleared his throat and sipped his blended chocolate to cool his anxiety. Michael was unfazed at the sight of the fearsome Tyr; he's confident in his fighters' abilities and his fellow archangels.
A whoop erupted from the god's stand.
A young god with a long, flowing beard leaped and threw flowers onto the stadium. His hair was golden, and he had very good fashion sense. In his right hand, he wielded a silver harp. "Tyr!" Bragi, the Norse god of poetry, cheered. "Win against your opponent! Show no mercy!"
Anansi gestured for everyone to settle down, and the light shined onto the right entrance, the entrance for the fighters of humanity. Anansi cleared his throat and screamed into the mic again. "Now! Here's the brave fool who dares to challenge our beloved Tyr!"
The human fighter stepped into the arena. He possessed a broad forehead and a sturdy build; his moustache caught the attention of both humans and the gods. His attire was decorated with jewellery, enhancing his powerful image. He raised his choice of weapon—a longsword—and had a bow and a set of arrows attached to his back.
"He is known by the Romans as the infamous Scrouge of God for his devastating raids on Roman soil! After Bleda's passing, he became the ruler of the Huns! He is most famous for his invasion of Gaul, which is now known as France! Thanks to him, the Huns managed to conquer parts of Europe and weaken the Roman forces."
The fighter halted himself around ten metres away from Tyr, slamming his longsword to the floor. Bleda smiled from his seat and waved at the fighter, who waved back. Many cheers were heard from the human spectators. Gabriel recognised them as the fearsome Huns of the Hunnic Empire, cheering for their brave leader.
"Even after his mysterious passing." Anansi continued. "He left an impactful legacy behind and posthumously contributed to the downfall of the Western Roman Empire! For he is one of the most feared enemies of Rome! And no one even dared to speak his name!"
The human fighter raised his fist into the air, prompting the Huns to do the same and roar in courage.
"The first fighter for humanity is Attila the Hun!"
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The spectators from both sides cheered, yelled out inspiring words to their fighters, and spat insults at their adversaries. Uriel looked up from his encyclopaedia for the first time, his eyes glued to the stadium. Gabriel slurped up more from his glass, Metatron's eyes narrowed in nervousness and intrigue, and Raphael simply crossed his arms and made a look of excitement.
Michael laid back against his seat, relaxing from the cool temperature of the room. "This is where the fun begins." He spoke, smiling.
"Alright!" Anansi announced. "Brace yourselves, everyone! For the first round of Genesis is about to commence!" Both humanity and the gods cheered in excitement. "But first! Let's hear some words from our special guests!"
He turned to face Odin. "The all-mighty Odin. What are your opinions on this match?"
Huginn and Muninn cawed. "Bah! Tyr is going to win this!" Huginn gloated. "He's going to wipe the floor with that puny mortal! Scourge of God or not? He stands no chance against the embodiment of courage." Muninn laughed in agreement.
"He's right!" Bragi gloated from the stands. "Whoever he did or whatever he accomplished, he's going to beg the mighty Tyr for mercy and the end of the round!"
Anansi whistled and turned to face Bleda. "And what are your opinions, Bleda?"
Attila's brother simply made a look of sternness. He eyed the ravens of Odin, and his stare turned into an intimidating glare. "Do not look down on my younger brother, god." He spoke. "He will crush your beloved son and score humanity's first victory."
Huginn and Muninn simply glared back at Bleda. Odin, on the other hand, is unfazed by his words. Anansi patted two on their backs. "Now, now. Let's not fight here. For the fight would be on the stadium below!"
On the stadium, Attila and Tyr circled around each other, anticipating each other and waiting for a clear opening. Attila clenched his longsword, raising it up in front of his face. Tyr lowered his sword to the floor, scratching it and producing a not-so-pleasant noise.
Everyone was on the edge of their seats even before the battle even began. The Huns embraced themselves for who would be the first attacker. Gabriel took many deep breaths to sooth himself; Raphael's smile was beginning to crumble; Uriel made a look of worry for the first time; Metatron straightened his top hat; and Michael tapped his seat.
Dionysus drank his glass of wine before summoning a pair of binoculars to watch the fight closely. Hathor lazily laid back against her seat, munching on some grapes. Lugh clenched his spear with unease.
In the god's VIP room, the chief gods placed their bets on the victor of the first round. Indra and Horus quarrelled, saying that the round would be over in ten minutes at the most. The Jade Emperor believed the Scrouge of God had a hidden trick behind his sleeve. Huitzilopochtli betted on Tyr, although he claimed that he would not get away without an injury.
Zeus grinned, and his hands crackled with electricity. "Let's see how long you can keep your confidence up, archangel." He said this in the direction of the archangels' room.
Anansi felt excited at the audience's anticipation and nervousness. He raised two of his hands and shouted into the mic. "LET THE FIRST ROUND OF GENESIS BEGIN!"
And right after that announcement, Attila was charged.
His speed was so incredible that not even the gods could see him. Raising his longsword, he aimed for Tyr's heart. However, the Nordic one-armed god caught him in the act. Lifting his golden sword, he parried Attila's attack, sending him to backstep before Tyr could deliver a blow.
"That was so fast!" Gabriel noted. "Not as fast as me. But still!"
"Did you all see that?!" Anansi announced. "Because I barely did! I'm even surprised that Tyr managed to parry his attack!"
Unfazed by his failed attack, Attila dashed towards Tyr again. This time, he aimed for his knee. Right before his longsword could pierce the god, Tyr parried it again, his sword clashing with Attila's longsword. The god delivered a powerful kick that sent Attila flying. On the bright side, the ruler of the Huns blocked it with the handle of his weapon, softening the blow. He got back on his feet, shrugging off the attack.
Attila knew Tyr had a good eye and could see his movements even with his enhanced speed. So, charging at him isn't a wise option. Clicking his tongue, Attila circled around the god again, waiting for the right chance to attack.
But Tyr wouldn't allow that.
This time, the Norse god of war charged, shocking some of the human audiences. Attila wasn't shocked at this. He simply raised his longsword, and it clashed with Tyr's, blocking it from reaching Attila's neck. Their weapons clashed, and the ringing of metal reverberated across the entire arena. The trillions of onlookers could hear the fearsome clash of swords.
Seeing an opportunity, Tyr parried off Attila's blows and prepared to swipe his sword, eyeing his chest as his target. But humans are resilient. Attila catches his movements and returns them with a prepared attack of his own. He countered Tyr's sword, leaving an opening. This is his chance! This is the moment he delivers blood!
He clenched his longsword and swung it towards Tyr's chest. Alas, the god caught it yet again, but the Scrouge of God had predicted he would do that. Their weapons clashed, but after the first clash, Attila positioned his longsword in a way to stab.
"Legion Piercer."
Barely anyone can catch Attila's sudden and coordinated barrage of blows, except for Tyr. Attila unleashed swift pierces with his longsword, aiming for every part of Tyr's body. While he managed to block his attacks, Attila's move had done some damage to him. The speed of the longsword managed to cut through Tyr's defences, piercing his armour. The gods are shocked at his sudden counterattack; they didn't anticipate the beloved and powerful Tyr to be pierced through by a mere mortal.
Michael was relishing in the gods' dismay. This is the might of humanity; this is their resilience and determination.
Attila grinned as he managed to get some harm done to Tyr's armour. Wanting more, he picked up the pace, his movements becoming even faster for the naked eye to capture. Tyr failed to parry some, getting some scratches on his arm.
"Oh myself!" Anansi shrieked in excitement. "It looks like the Scrouge of God is managing to push Tyr into a corner! His movements are moving so rapidly, I'm struggling to catch up!"
"This is the strength of my brother." Bleda said. "This is the very move he used to decimate dozens of enemy forces. He'll jab his longsword at such rapid speeds that his victims couldn't keep up., allowing him to penetrate through their defences."
Sparks flew out from the clashing of metal, and steam emitted from the speed of the Attila's move. Even while being attacked, Tyr remained unfazed, looking for a weak point during Attila's attacks. He waited and defended, and defended, and defended. While Legion Piercer is a devastating move, he knew it would give an opening during one of his attacks.
There, he saw it.
As Attila was preparing another strike, Tyr slashed him across the arm. Giving a look of annoyance that he'd been hit, Attila backed off before Tyr could do more damage. The gods were in denial at the damage done to Tyr's armor. Thousands of pierces have ruined its celestial beauty; his arm was covered in scratches. Minor trails of blood trickled down his arm, which the god shrugged off.
"I can't believe it!" Anansi gasped. "The Norse god of war! He has been dealt an injury from the terror of the Romans! Attila the Hun has done the challenging: He has wounded a god!"
The audience had mixed feelings.
The gods were furious that a human had managed to push a god into a corner; they couldn't accept the fact that one had been wounded by one. He must be cheating! They thought. A normal mortal wouldn't be able to keep up with them, let alone move at that speed.
"Huh?!" Bragi shrieked and wiped his eyes to ensure himself that he wasn't hallucinating. "How could this be?! How can a mere human being wound a god?!" His hand trembled in frustration and fury, nearly dropping his harp.
On the other hand, the human audience roared for their champion. Attila has given them hope that they can stand toe-to-toe against the gods. The Huns cheered for their representative, stomping their feet and raising their fists. They cried out their leader's name, showering him with compliments.
"THAT'S MY SON!"
One particular member of the Huns shouted. Wearing a leather brown jacket and blue study pants. His short, dark hair and slight beard give him the look of a warrior. He raised his fists with the pride of a father. He grinned as he turned to the god's stands.
"How do you like that, puny deities?" Mundzuk, the father of Attila, taunted. "How do you like that your champion has been wounded, huh?!"
Bragi clenched his fists, yelling even louder than Mundzuk. "TYR! Once you're done with that mortal, make that annoying brat know his place!" The father of Attila simply smirked and sat down, his hands around his head.
On the arena, Attila looked at his followers, giving a look of gratitude for their support. Eyeing his fresh wound, he was awestruck for the first time. No one has ever delivered an injury to him, neither in life nor in the afterlife. This must be a gift. A reward for being capable of wounding a god. He found someone who could possibly be his match. Attila smiled and gently caressed his bleeding arm, cherishing it as his most precious gift.
"That's unnerving." Uriel groaned. "He seems to be enjoying his injury."
"That's because barely anyone has ever given him a good fight in his life." Michael explained. "I did some background research on all of the thirteen fighters. This guy here had an undefeated record other than his defeat at the hands of the Romans in the Battle of Châlons."
During the battle, Tyr examined his damaged armour and his scratched arm. Nothing serious so far, but he couldn't help but find a newfound respect for his adversary. No one has ever made him bleed since the monstrous wolf. Attila the Hun has impressed him; he has made him want to see what more he can possibly do for him.
"Hey." Tyr spoke for the first time during the battle. He raised his golden sword, eyeing his adversary. "I'm going to get serious now. Do not disappoint me."
Attila, on the other hand, burst out laughing. Raising his longsword, he grinned with an unwavering amount of confidence in his eyes. "I never had this much fun in ages! Come at me, god! And I'll tear you apart!"
Gabriel, Uriel, and Metatron made a silent prayer to themselves. While Attila had the upper hand for a moment, he knew that Tyr would make a comeback, putting their lives at risk.
***
Four hours before the first round.
Michael and Gabriel stood before the many archangels of heaven; the leader of heaven's warriors presented himself before the rest. Everyone submitted to Michael with respect for his deeds; they all loved him as their leader and as a person.
"Archangels of the Heavens, heed me out." Michael announced. "The end times for humanity are nearing. We cannot allow the gods to destroy the beloved creations of the Man Upstairs. We must act."
Michael gave a nod to Gabriel, who responded with a nod of his own, fishing out a tablet and, after some tapping, displaying holograms of the thirteen fighters for humanity. The archangels observed the faces, some respecting the choices of their leader, while others felt odd at his choice of fighters.
Michael continued. "Do you all still remember the angelic bond?"
The eyes of all the archangels widened at his question.
A cloaked archangel with black hair, black robes, and an aura of freezing cold spoke up. "You don't mean that?"
"Yes, Azrael." Michael confirmed. "I do. Not every human is special. Not every human can best the gods. But we can change that. We need thirteen volunteers for these thirteen fighters."
Another archangel raised her hand. She wore a gown with cloud motifs embedded in its fabric and a neckless top with crescent moon symbols decorated around it. She nervously asked the question that many archangels were thinking at the moment.
"Does that mean that we'll die?"
Michael sighed, straightening himself, and gave them the harsh answer they couldn't deny. "Yes, Haniel. Due to the angelic bond, you will die if the fighter perishes." He knew that this would cause the others to panic; he understood that no one wants to put their survival on the line; they have their own personal lives, and they're going to throw it all away.
"But this is not an order." Michael continued. "You make the final decision about whether you are willing to put your lives at risk for the sake of humanity. I won't force you to participate."
The fearful looks on the archangels softened; they were relieved that they wouldn't have to risk their lives at all. It's all based on their choices. They can back out, keeping their own existences, and live the life they lived.
"For humanity, eh?"
Everyone turned to face the source of the voice. It belonged to a majestic archangel with a river of silver hair, donning flowing robes of white and pink. Around his neck sat a necklace embellished with rose quartz. His face radiated beauty and kindness, and those around him felt their worries disintegrating, replacing them with hope and kindness.
"If it's for the sake of the entire human race, No, for the sake of saving civilisations in need. I will be there for them!" The archangel of love and peace, Chamuel said, "Michael, leader of Heaven's army, I agree to form an angelic bond!" He stepped forward, stopping himself in front of Michael and Gabriel.
"Chamuel," Gabriel said, touched that he was willing to put his life at risk for the sake of humanity.
Azrael clicked his tongue. "It's going to be saddening for too much death; it would cause an imbalance." Cracking his neck, the archangel of death, too, stepped forward beside Chamuel. "I'll join to prevent this imbalance."
The other archangels whispered between each other, questioning how courageous, compassionate and stubborn on how Chamuel and Azrael are willing to risk going to Tartarus for humanity. They questioned themselves once more, now that the two had lit a small flame of hope between them. Some are starting to consider doing the same, they're developing the willingness to save hundreds of billions of humans.
"Fine!" Haniel said and rushed to stand beside Chamuel, her legs trembling from the idea of dying. But she hardened herself and roared. "I'll volunteer!"
Then another stepped forward, saluting. He wore a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, with a navy-blue blazer as an outer clothing. With his dark jeans and a red necktie, he looked like a businessman preparing to attend a board meeting. Raguel, the archangel of harmony, stomped his foot.
"I'll volunteer! Michael! Let me go for the first round!"
Michael's eyes widened at Raguel's enthusiasm. He considered this for a moment, before nodding to agree on Raguel's proposal. With four volunteers, the other archangels felt left out and jealous. Soon, one volunteered themselves, then followed by two, then one reluctantly joined in.
Michael and Gabriel scanned through the eight archangels, willing to perform the angelic bond with the human fighters. The rest of the archangels clapped and cheered, touched by the eight's bravery, and ashamed of themselves for refusing to save humanity.
Michael smiled, with these eight, and Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Metatron and himself. They have exactly thirteen archangels to bond with the thirteen fighters. "Thank you! My brave volunteers!" Michael exclaimed. "Now, let's save humanity! Together!"
They roared in agreement.
***
Attila and Tyr clashed their blades once more, deflecting each other's blows. Screams of excitement from both the gods and mankind boomed. Even the archangels themselves couldn't hide their own excitements too, Metatron and Raphael roared for the victory of Attila and Raguel, Gabriel shook his blended chocolate in courage.
"Crush him, Tyr!" Lugh bellowed.
"Tear him apart!" Bragi cheered.
"Get him, my son!" Mundzuk roared.
"Don't fall to that human!" Muninn cawed.
The cheers vibrated throughout the stadium; the roars of elations echoed across the universe. The Huns banged their shields, roaring and cheering on their leader.
"Looks like everyone's getting fired up!" Anansi spoke, his amplified voice resonating with the crowd's cheers. "This is what everyone's been waiting for! In Genesis, you'll witness all kinds of performances! This is the greatest event in the history of mankind and godhood!"
Attila positioned his longsword once more, preparing to perform another Legion Piercer. But Tyr, adaptive and refusing to fall for the same attack again, attacked before he could do that. Attila managed to deflect it before Tyr's sword could make contact with his chest. Responding to this, Tyr elbowed Attila in the shoulder so hard, Bleda was worried it could be dislocated.
Unfazed and thirsty for payback, Attila kicked Tyr in the shin, causing the god of justice to collapse. But before he could strike, Tyr wisely slid backwards, evading an attack. The crowd's cheers died out as they watched with intensity. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, willing to let themselves get caught off guard by a sudden attack by one of them.
Tyr struggled briefly to get on his feet, shrugging off Attila's kick. The Scrouge of God smirked at his opponent's brief moment of vulnerability, raising his longsword.
"Well, what do you think?!" Attila snarled. "But don't you fear! There's more where that came from! From this day, I bet you'll have different opinions on us humans!"
The two fighters gave each other a death glare and the audience held their breath, waiting for another attack.