Only 8 contestants remained. Azim, the red knight, the hunter woman, the feliome witch, and four others that Azim had not paid much attention to until now. The emptiness of the huge ring was palpable. They were in the endgame of the match, and the awareness of the round’s nearing end was looming over everyone.
With his new sword, Azim was ready to make it to the end. The android had overheard that Leone had won his match, and he would make sure he met up with him in the second and final round.
An amphiome in an armored chest plate was charging toward the robot. His armor only covered his torso and shoulders, while the rest of his body was relatively exposed. He wore pants seemingly made from some animal hide, but wore no top under his armor and no shoes. The amphiome wielded a simple broadsword in one hand and an unassuming shield in the other. Azim supposed the amphibious knight had most likely lasted as long as he did playing a mainly defensive game, though as the end of the match was drawing near, the pressure was starting to weigh on him and he decided to make a rushed assault.
Luckily for the metal man, his new weapon was much larger than his incoming target’s, and if there were no special properties about the weapon or the skills of the one who wielded it, then Azim had nothing to worry about. The blue frog man brought up his shield in front of him, pushing it forward so that it created a small shockwave. The pulse traveled to Azim instantaneously, though the force of the blast itself was not that impressive.
The robot held his ground firmly, not sliding back an inch or even flinching in the slightest. The giant broadsword he held in front of him seemed to absorb most of the shockwave, though even the unexposed area that reached the metal man was so benign it was as if nothing had happened. Still, the amphiome charged forward. As he got within striking distance of his armor-coated opponent, the blue-skinned frog threw his sword forward, hoping his rush would be enough.
Of course, the attack was futile from the beginning. Azim swung the humongous sword effortlessly with one hand, reaching the amphibious knight well before he reached the android. Just like the half-giant berserker moments ago, the amphiome dissolved into a familiar yellow haze.
The sound of crackling embers caught the robot’s attention from behind. He found that he had reacted just in time to dodge what was some sort of ball of black flame. It soared past him and hit the hunter woman, who found herself caught in its flight path on her way to attack the red knight. She started crying out in pain, wailing as if she was burning, though whatever flame-like energy was coming off of her was pitch black. After a few seconds, the strange, black flames enveloped her and she was pulled out of the arena thanks to her charm’s activation. The shining, red knight turned to face Azim’s general direction and held out a thumbs up, saying, “Thanks”, but not to the metal man.
It was directed at someone behind him. The source of the strange fireball. The one that had been meant for him. Azim turned around to see the feliome witch and her decrepit, twisted staff made from a charred tree branch. She held her staff forward at a slight tilt, leaving Azim to notice a slight trail of smoke emanating from the tip of the wood. This woman meant business.
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Behind Azim, outside of his field of vision, the red knight was taking on the last 3 combatants all on his own. Two of them had formed a temporary alliance while they fought him off, the third was just as independent as the knight was, though all 3 of them seemed to be focusing their attention on the red knight for the moment. Despite the odds, however, the cheeky man had not lost his nerve. He brandished his two warped blades on either side of him, their shine as polished as his armor, and waited for the poor fools in front of him to try anything.
The two that had made an alliance were both hawklings. One had light purple feathers and carried a pair of sickles, while the other had silver feathers and wore a hand wrap with a magem embedded in its center. Both had a touch of magic in their toolkits, the purple one sending out Wave Cutter slashes through the use of their sickles and the silver one using their magem to increase the output of their Water magic. The red knight assumed, given that the two hawklings were so different, even down to their personalities, that they must have only bonded over the commonality in species, and were banking on that shared trait until they ended up the last ones in the match. It did not matter, however, the shining red man thought, because neither one of them would be moving on from this fight, anyway.
The elf was just as unthreatening to the armored man as the other two, though she earned points in his book for not being so much of a coward as to group up in a free-for-all battle like this. The elf woman was taller than the other two and wore a somewhat regal-looking outfit made from blue, velvet fabric. The armored man wagered that she probably came from the wealthier side of the city, or even from the Capital, to prove something to herself or someone else. She carried a couple of spell bottles at her hip just as the hunter had, while also swinging around a spiked flail in her right hand. The knight joked to the elf, asking, “Isn’t a weapon like that a little too crass for an elf such as yourself?”
"Especially one of your.. status," the man added, gesturing loosely to her outfit.
Not saying a word back, the elf woman threw her flail to the side of her, causing the chain of her weapon to stretch toward the two hawklings. Panicked, the two temporary allies ducked out of the way, giving the woman enough leeway to charge at the red knight alone and uninterrupted.
Considering the woman’s stature, choice of weapon, and obvious social standing, it was hard for the red knight to identify what class of adventurer she fit into. He wondered if she even had one. Maybe she, herself, was still unsure? It didn’t matter much to the armored man anyway. He was going to eliminate her all the same. After all, from the looks of her toolkit, there was nothing serious she could do to him.
The shining, red knight made quick work of his adversaries. Thanks to the suit of armor his father had found back in his own adventuring days, the combatant was much tougher than anyone here by a long shot. While his own baseline magic level was only 15, the high quality of the suit might as well have made him level 35. Granted, the armor did not actually upgrade his magic output to such a level, but if one were considering his power and strength as an adventurer, it was certainly up there. His father, the knight thought graciously, would always be to thank for that.
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He struck down the elf quickly, whose brazen approach had earned his respect, leaving him alone with the allied hawklings. It was his turn to rush his opponents now, and, within only a second, he had closed the distance between himself and the other two fighters. The hawklings yelped in surprise, the purple one slashing Wave Cutters at the knight from point-blank range and the silver one using his hand wrap to cast a scalding stream of water, but both attacks left the man unfazed in the slightest upon hitting his armor. Before the two birds could do anything else, they were each turned into dissolving, yellow light by the man’s curved swords.
It wasn’t until the red knight felt himself burning did he think anything would get in the way of him winning the fight. After all, his armor was amazing, his senses were keen, and his swords had dispatched 15 other contestants; one for every level of his magic. So how had he not noticed the feliome behind him chant, “Burning Shadow”?
His senses were flooded as the black flames overtook him. Sure, his armor was impressive, but it wasn’t unstoppable. The burning of the strange, black flames could be felt on his skin through the armor, despite it not melting at all. He wasn’t just vulnerable because his head was exposed. Somehow, even with his shining red armor still intact, the dark embers of the spell could be felt all over his body. He was burning up… and he couldn’t do anything about it.
He had been so focused on the opponents in front of him, he had forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings. He should have been ready. He knew he should have. No. It was okay. The witch was supposed to be dealing with that silver armor-covered stranger. He had no way of knowing that she would attack him in the middle of their exchange. Besides, he was preoccupied with 3 others. It was okay that he had not noticed her. It was just bad luck and unfortunate timing. There wasn’t anything he could have done.
These thoughts, along with the feelings of pain surging through his consciousness, conflicted with one another as the red knight burned. He tried to come to peace with how the events of the last minute had played out, but it was hard to over the sensations on his skin. After a few seconds, the knight disappeared from the ring entirely, safely back in the waiting room, leaving only a flash of yellow light behind.
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The witch had created some distance between herself and Azim, as she had wanted to get a little closer to the knight before firing her spell so that he would have as little time to react as possible. Now with him gone, she turned to face the metal man.
Azim looked around the arena. She was the only one left in there with him. It was down to this fight. Despite not having emotions or opinions, the tactic the witch had employed when taking out the red knight was sticking in Azim’s mind.Why was that? He had not known the man. The robot had only interacted with him for about 30 seconds, and yet for some reason, this engagement seemed to matter. The robot finally came to the conclusion that he did not appreciate the furry woman attacking him while his back was turned and not worried about her. There was something about that context, about the fact that the two of them had not been fighting, that it had just been a surprise attack from out of nowhere, that Azim did not like.
“Are you… not a good person?” the robot asked the witch.
“Huh?!” the feliome turned, purring after speaking. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’ve done something wrong, love?”
“You attacked that man from behind when he was not looking; when he was completely off guard. Is that okay to do?”
“I mean, it’s a free-for-all, love,” spoke the woman, purring. “We all kind of worry about ourselves here. It’s not necessarily moral or immoral.”
The feliome witch started walking closer to Azim, lowering her staff to show she was not planning anything, until she was only about a meter or two away from him. “Though I’ll tell ya’ what, love,” she said with a purr, “between you and me… I think it’s alright out there, too. Not to say it’s not sneaky, it rightly is. But, if you’re going out adventuring, you’re bound to come across people willing to sneak up on ya’, double cross ya’, or even straight up backstab ya’. So, if that’s bound to happen, and it always is, you might as well be the one to do it first.”
“Is that not immoral?” Azim asked, his monotone voice unable to express any concern.
“Well, no, love. It’s just a matter of looking for yourself. We’re all just trying to stay alive. And the farther into danger we go, the more we need to be looking behind us. After all, the more known your name becomes in the world, the farther some people are willing to go to make everyone forget it. And in those times, you’re going to want to be one step ahead. Right, love?”
Before Azim could say anything else, the feliome woman thrust her staff forward, chanting, “Black Burn!”
The tip of her charred, black staff began to glow iridescent black as it aimed right for Azim’s chest. The robot, however, was quick, and lifted his newly acquired sword just in time to block the witch. When the two objects made contact, the sword lit up in black flames, causing the catlike woman to flinch.
“Oh my!" astonished by the metal man's swift reflexes.
However, the robot did not respond. Instead, Azim lifted the burning sword and swung it in front of him. The black flame-engulfed blade narrowly missed the feliome, its embers just barely catching onto her fur as she lunged back in panic. She took another few quick steps back, creating even more distance between herself and the metal stranger.
To her amazement, as she did, she saw the pitch-black embers of her spell recede into her opponent’s sword. The raging flames settled into delicate wisps, slowly fading away as if the sword had been the one to manifest them in the first place. Within seconds, they were gone completely.
The witch raised her staff forward once more to cast another spell, figuring she was safer now that she had regained her distance. In retaliation, however, Azim hurled the giant blade forward, sending it piercing through the air like an Olympic javelin. Before the witch could even react, the weapon had sailed right through her own, splitting it in half. She watched, petrified, as the top half of her wooden staff fell to the ground, rattling between its new ends before finally falling still. The thought did not fail to cross her mind that if the armor-coated combatant had chosen to aim for her head instead of her magic item, she likely would not have reacted fast enough to that either. The furry woman felt a chill down her spine at the notion.
Looking up, she saw something she had not before. An intimidating presence radiating from the metal stranger in front of her. His face had not changed, nor had his stance, yet somehow, his aura was completely different. She felt her nerves shake all the way down to her fingertips.
Without her staff, she had nothing. She was a witch, which meant her magic prowess was concentrated in her staff. While it alleviated any stress of using magic herself, such as slowly draining one’s stamina over time, it also meant she had a rather significant weakness. Once her magic item was taken away from her, she was no more of a threat than an untrained civilian. Sure, she had a tiny bit of self-using magic at her disposal, as presumably all witches did, but nothing great enough to change the course of this battle. She poured almost every ounce of magic she had into her weapon, and now without it… she was nothing.