The judge's voice boomed through the arena, announcing the first match of the semi-finals. "Ladies and gentlemen, the first match will be between Remoran and Keth!" The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, eager to see the two fighters face off against each other.
Remoran's heart sank as he heard his opponent's name. Keth was a bully, a brute who had no respect for the art of sword fighting. He had witnessed Keth's merciless beatdown of a young and inexperienced opponent in an earlier round, and he knew that Keth would stop at nothing to win this tournament.
But as Remoran tightened his grip on his sword, he felt a familiar strength and purpose fill him. He had come too far to be intimidated by Keth. He had trained hard, fought hard, and had earned his place in the semi-finals. He would not let Keth's bullying tactics get the best of him.
As he stepped into the arena, he could feel the eyes of the crowd upon him. He tried to ignore the murmurs and whispers that followed him, the doubts and fears that threatened to overtake him. He focused on his breathing, on the steady rhythm of his heart, and on the sword in his hand. This sword was his ally, his companion, his source of strength and courage.
Keth entered the arena with a swagger, his club held high in the air. He sneered at Remoran, his eyes gleaming with malice. "So, we meet again," he taunted. "I hope you've been practicing, little man. You're going to need all the help you can get."
Remoran gritted his teeth, refusing to let Keth's words get to him. He knew that Keth was trying to provoke him, to throw him off his game. He couldn't let that happen. He had to stay focused, stay disciplined, and stay true to his training.
The referee signaled for the start of the match, and the two fighters circled each other warily. Keth swung his club with brutal force, but Remoran was able to dodge the blows with ease. He waited for his moment, his opportunity to strike.
"What's the matter, Remoran?" Keth taunted. "Scared of a little fight?"
Remoran gritted his teeth, trying to ignore Keth's words. He knew that he couldn't let his anger get the best of him, that he needed to stay focused if he wanted to win.
Keth swung his club with deadly force, but Remoran was ready for him. He dodged Keth's blows and countered with quick strikes of his own.
Keth was taken aback by Remoran's sudden burst of energy. He had expected Remoran to cower in fear, but instead, he was fighting with a ferocity that Keth had never seen before.
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The two fighters clashed, their weapons ringing out with every blow. Remoran could feel his sword pushing him, driving him forward with a strength that was not his own. He felt a sense of power that he had never experienced before, and he let it consume him.
Keth continued with his mocking, thinking to weaken Remoran.
“You are doing better than I thought you would, farmer boy, too bad your real family isn’t here to see it.”
Something welled up within Remoran that he could not control and he performed an overhead chop that Keth tried to block with his club. The weapons connected with a huge force coupled with the sound of cracking as Keth’s club began splintering some.
Keth’s eyes were wide with surprise and Remoran took advantage immediately and struck again, and again with a ferocity he didn’t know he had. All the emotions of hate and anger Remoran could muster were put into those strikes as if he were a mad Orc on a rampage. All Remoran could see was an enemy that needed to be defeated and he let that tunnel vision consume him.
A loud Craaaack was heard as Keth’s club snapped in two, but Remoran was already coming down with another chop and the only thing to stop his momentum was Keth’s unguarded and surprised face.
Keth’s face took the full hit from the sword with a dull and sickly thud. Ignoring the gasps and screams from the crowd, Remoran felt an immediate sense of euphoria as he knew he had dispatched his foe and had won the battle. He also thought he heard a deep voice yell in excitement within his mind congratulating him on a well earned victory.
Except this wasn’t a battle, it was just a tournament.
As Remoran’s bloodlust subsided and his mind began to comprehend what had just happened Remoran looked down as Keth lay motionless on the ground, his face broken and lifeless. The crowd held their breath, stunned by what they had just witnessed.
In the end, Remoran stood over Keth's body, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He had let his anger get the best of him, and now he had killed a man. The weight of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt sick to his stomach.
Malic Havenstone's voice rose above the murmurs of the crowd as he announced, "I understand that this turn of events is shocking and distressing to witness. I ask for everyone's patience and understanding as we call for the medical team to assist Keth. Please stay calm and allow the professionals to do their work." He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the sea of faces in the crowd. "I want to remind everyone that tournaments such as this are innately dangerous, and accidents can and do occur. This is why we take every precaution to ensure the safety of our contestants. However, we will not take this incident lightly. There will be a full investigation to determine if any foul play was intended. Until then, I am postponing the tournament until we can ensure the safety of all our contestants." The judge's voice was firm and resolute, and the crowd fell silent as they processed his words.
The judge had just announced that there would be an investigation into Keth's death, and Remoran knew that he would be the prime suspect. He could already feel the eyes of the town guard on him, watching his every move.
He had come so far, fought so hard, only to have it all come crashing down in one moment of blind rage. He knew that he would never be the same again.