From the stands of the stadium, the rotund elf was howling for his companion to end the armored knight. As arrows flew and armor clinked, cries could be heard from the bleachers by the entire floor. “Get him, Avenïl!” the elf would shout. “Shoot him through the heart! He dared speak ill of our tools, of our lineage! He made a mockery of our species!”
Through the flying arrows and swinging strikes, the knight spoke up, “Woah, woah, woah… I did not do any of that! I just commented on the fact elves almost only ever use bows!
The armored man blocked an arrow just a second before it impaled his exposed face. “Maybe knives or something…,” he continued through the flurry. “…But you never see an elf with an axe out mace! It was just an observation!”
“No! You insulted our race! You belittled our weaponry! And for that, you will suffer!”
The other strangers from across the arena looked at the screaming elf with contempt, curious how someone could be so obnoxious. A woman from a group that had recently arrived in the crowd began to stand up, as if intending to interrupt the elf, but her two companions held her still.
Meanwhile, the lean elf was still not saying anything. Enchanting his attacks as he let them loose, the man relied more on his actions to speak for him. That had always been the case. Despite him being older, and stronger, than his brother Meël, Avenïl usually refrained from speaking when possible. His younger brother usually did most of the talking for them, while his actions backed up his brother’s words. Such was the case today. While he did not make it known, he was just as irritated by the knight’s comment, though he was not going as far to take the same liberties of thought that his younger brother was. For the knight’s transgression, Avenïl decided he was going to get satisfaction along with victory.
“Lightspeed Volley,” the tall elf spoke, raising his bow to the ceiling. He let loose an arrow that fired at the same speed as all the others, potentially even slower, though it possessed a glowing, yellow arrowhead.
“Huh…” the knight humphed. “Doesn’t seem so ‘light-speed’…”
As if telling the man in armor he had jinxed the situation, the arrow reacted. Once reaching the peak of its arc, the arrow instantly dissolved, leaving the glowing arrowhead to shower down several dozen drops of light in the span of half a second.
It was all too fast. The knight caught a glimpse of the light as it came down, but it was impossible to keep an eye on the shower of light as the drops rained down. It was over as soon as it had started. The knight tried to lift his arms and protect his head but was not fast enough. The shards of sunlight struck him in 30 different spots, poking into his armor, the gaps between it, and onto his face. While not yet taken out, the knight couldn’t help but fall backward. “Ow…” he groaned.
Avenïl shot another arrow past the knight, who watched in pain as it flew over him. The projectile stuck into the wall of the arena with a “thwk”. Making a pair of hand gestures with his free hand, the lanky elf disappeared from his place of standing and reappeared where the arrow had been. The arrow itself was no longer around. He walked toward the fallen knight, the armored man’s head at his feet. He stared at the man’s laid-out body in front of him with bitterness. Raising his bow at a low angle, the knight thought the elf would leave him with parting words. He was wrong. Instead, the elf cocked his head slightly, and the two fighters were met with a familiar nagging voice.
“Yeah, that’s right, would you look at that?” Meël shouted from the stands. “A lowly little elf with his sad, little bow was able to take down the big, bad human and his big, shiny armor! You stupid idiot!”
“Alright…” grumbled the armored man, rolling his eyes.
Looking back up, the man saw the elf pull back his bowstring tighter. Before the archer could fire, however, the knight took action. He swung his lance-covered arm low to the ground, cutting the elf across his right leg. The shock of the attack knocked Avenïl off-guard, causing him to shift his weight and fire the arrow off to the side.
With the elf’s guard, and bow, lowered, the man in armor spun around, grabbing Avenïl’s bow with his left hand as he did. Before the skinny elf could wrestle for the weapon back, the knight kicked him deep in the gut. Avenïl let go of his weapon and flung back, the impact of his opponent’s boot knocking the wind out of him. As the elf stood back up, he stared with contempt at the man who now held his bow. Before he could do much of anything, the knight smashed the bow in half with his lance arm, sending the weapon splinting into pieces. “No!” Meël screamed. “You… You…”
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“Not so tough without your bow, huh?” the armored man sneered.
Avenïl grabbed the last of his arrows from his quiver, hoping to make a last-ditch effort against his opponent, but was too late. Just as he was enchanting the bundle of pointed sticks, the tall elf was tackled by the knight, who pinned him down and left the arrows to scatter along the floor. Pressing his left arm against the elf’s forearm, the armored man raised his right-handed lance and commanded, “Yield!”
“I don’t like killing when I don’t have to. So yield.”
With the elf’s verbal “yield”, the two fighters disappeared from one another, the knight back to Azim and his friends, with a floating orb above his head similar to Leone’s, and the elf just outside the tower, sitting next to the unconscious feliome. Turning to Azim, the knight thanked the robot for his assistance. “Erm.. Do you mind…?” the knight prompted, pointing to his lance-covered right hand.
With a sweep of his left hand and a quick reversal of magic, the metal man forced the warped armor to recede from the knight’s arm, reforming itself to fit the knight as it originally had. “Thank you, kid,” spoke the man in armor. “I greatly appreciate your efforts.”
With the battle over, two new combatants materialized into the arena. Luckily, neither fighter was from Azim’s group, leaving the adventurers to have a bit of a break. Instead, the two fighters were Meël, the other elf archer, and the gnome that had been sitting by himself. He carried two small maces of simple, round design, and sported a leather cape. Meël was not amused.
The two short fighters were relatively evenly matched. Meël was a much slower shot than his companion, though the heads of his arrows were notably larger. Meanwhile, the gnome was employing a sort of magic that kept his maces lined to an invisible tether, allowing him to throw them at the elf only for them to return right back to his hands. Attacks from either fighter were rather similar, as if either warrior was engaged against a distorted, mirrored version of themself. Even their attitudes were similar. Both were cranky, rather grumpy individuals who had no respect for their opponent, despite them sharing so many things in common.
Iron clashed against steel as arrows struck mace heads. The thrown weapons smashed against the flying projectiles as they screamed toward the caped gnome, and arrowheads smacked into iron-headed weapons as they flung toward the tubby elf. Truly, neither combatant was making any headway.
Azim tried to study the two fighters, as he had the previous since he had arrived on the floor, but could not gather much valuable information. Contrary to the knight’s belligerence, however, the android was beginning to understand the value of a bow and arrow. There were not many opportunities for ranged attacks in this world, or other possible purposes, without the use of magic. Sure, magic could be implemented in so many ways, many of which acted as ranged attacks or maneuverabilities. However, the robot figured there were also plenty of cases in which magic could not solely be relied on. Someone could not be as susceptible to magic development as another, or they could be in an environment where magic is prohibited or even prevented.
Not only that, but Azim also considered how the gnome needed magic to enchant his maces to the point they were even on par with the elf’s arrows. Without such magic, the gnome would not be able to treat his weapons as the projectiles he did, and subsequently be at a severe disadvantage. Azim thought about the previous battle, and how lucky the knight had gotten. He had every reason to lose, as he was a poor matchup against the tall elf. Avenïl’s own arrogance in getting close to the knight was the only thing that had given the armored man a fitting chance. If he had stayed back as he had the whole fight, the knight would for sure have lost, even with Azim’s help.
Soon enough, as Azim acknowledged, the gnome started to slip. Despite having two, the short man’s maces were not enough to keep up with the tubby elf. Meël’s irritation with the situation slowly evolved into determination, prompting him to knock and fire his arrows just the slightest bit faster. The stalemate between the two fighters slowly started to lose balance as the archer’s arrows began to overwhelm the gnome. With both of the short man’s weapons knocked away for a moment, Meël knocked a much larger arrow than before. The arrowhead appeared to have five points folded into one, like a flower that had yet to bloom.
“Fractarrow,” the rotund elf incanted.
As the arrow let loose from the bow, the five points of the head split apart. A moment later, five separate arrows in a pentagon formation were bending toward the unarmed gnome. He retrieved his thrown maces as quick as possible, preparing himself to block the incoming projectiles. He smashed both weapons down in symmetrical arcs in front of him. The gnome managed to splinter several of the arrows as they approached. He did not manage to get all of them.
With 3 arrows in his sides and chest, the short, caped man fell back, defeated. “Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the chubby elf. “Don’t ever disrespect me, my brother, or the bow… ever again!”
“Oh dear,” Riva commented. “That boy has some real issues.”
“At least he’s not the one you have to go up against,” replied Leone.
“I suppose that’s true, though… I am still nervous…” admitted Riva. “I’m not much of a fighter. Anybody here is going to be a worry for me.”
“I believe you are capable, Riva,” Azim interjected. “Simply deal with them the way you dealt with the hawkling a few days ago.”
“Woah… what?” Leone asked, curious. “What did you do against a hawkling? You fought someone?”
“No, no, nothing like that…” Riva clarified, acting modestly. “I just… broke some girl’s finger.”
“What?!” yelped Leone, as well as the knight, who was now invested.
Riva put her hands up, assuring the men, “It wasn’t as crazy as Azim set it up to sound. She was holding me hostage, threatening Azim, keeping me several dozen meters above the ground. I broke her finger to let go of my neck, so I wouldn't be in the way of Azim's attack.”
“Woah… Riva that’s awesome!” Leone admired.
Almost on cue, the floral-dressed woman began to glow a familiar yellow. A few moments later, she found herself in the fighting area of Floor 2, with a yellow glow in front of her, too. As the two bright auras dissipated, she, as well as the rest of the crowd, were left confused. While Riva stood ready for whatever challenger of Lemaerk awaited her, she, in actuality, was met with no one.
Across from Riva, where the yellow aura had culminated, was nothing. There were no footprints, no weapons, not even any presence of magic being used. Riva knew it couldn’t be so, as the tower had seemingly selected someone. Yet somehow, the woman was alone in the arena.