76. Igor vs Seaton
NAME: IGOR
SPECIES: HUMAN
LOCATION: SOLONELL CITY, SILVER LINE
[CLICK TO EXPAND DETAILS]
ATTACK: 7
SPEED: 5
SKILL: 9
DEFENSE: 11
INSTINCT: 5
INTELLIGENCE: 5
STAMINA: 11
CALCULATED LEVEL: 7
NAME: SEATON
SPECIES: MERFOLK
LOCATION: THE WOODLANDS, GREEN LINE
[CLICK TO EXPAND DETAILS]
ATTACK: 15
SPEED: 14
SKILL: 17
DEFENSE: 14
INSTINCT: 10
INTELLIGENCE: 14
STAMINA: 15
CALCULATED LEVEL: 24
The sound of laughter broke Isaac out of his thoughts. Spinning around, he saw the group of demons sitting a little ways away from him were pointing at the stat sheets projected on the screen with their long, sharp claws. They snorted and cackled, and the sound made shivers crawl up his spine. Isaac’s eyes scanned the rest of the stands, and he quickly realized that this wasn’t a minority reaction.
“Hey Elias, triple my bet on the merfolk!” one voice called, booming over the crowd.
“And mine!”
“Quadruple mine!” another voice rang out.
Isaac instinctively opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out. His jaw clicked shut, and his grip on the tablet tightened. What exactly could he say to that? It was true; there was no way for Igor to win this fight, and it was a natural response for anyone looking at the disparity between the two stat sheets to be amused. He couldn’t really blame them for laughing.
Besides, a small voice in his head whispered. He’d thought much the same thing, hadn’t he? He probably still did, even if the conscious part of his mind wanted to root for the man who bloomed flowers over and over again and wore his grief with quiet grace.
The laughs and jeers around him grew louder, and still he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Isaac kept his eyes fixed on the ring, attempting to ignore the crowd around him. It didn’t do much to block out the rising guilt.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Surrounded on all sides by the watching stands, the two fighters stepped into the ring. Igor’s metal clanked with each movement, and he held his large shield in hand. His eyes were focused, expression as stoic as ever beneath his thick beard. If he heard the taunts, he gave no indication of it.
In contrast, Seaton actively glanced around at the spectators, frowning at the rise in volume as the two stepped into the arena. His long spear was held at his side, and his blue eyes darted over to the displayed stat sheets. Confusion bled away and a look of understanding replaced it.
The human and merfolk stood across from each other, and the crowd finally died down long enough to listen to the countdown. When it hit zero, however, the murmurs rose again when neither party moved.
Igor stared straight ahead, shield in front of him, face unreadable. Seaton, on the other hand, tilted his head to the side as he stared at his opponent, brows furrowing like he was trying to piece together a particularly difficult puzzle.
“Your name is Igor, correct?” he asked. The crowd quieted, and Isaac leaned forward to hear better.
Igor nodded slowly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said with complete, dire sincerity.
Seaton released a surprised chuckle that he immediately swallowed back down. He cleared his throat and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” His eyes darted back over to the stat sheets, looming perpetually above them, then to Igor once again. His grip on his spear was loose, Isaac noted. He hadn’t even gotten into a fighting stance yet.
“Igor, do you mind me asking you a question before we begin?”
Igor shook his head. The murmurs in the stands grew louder, and Isaac attempted to block them out.
Seaton nodded towards the stat sheets. “You must have been aware of the average levels in this tournament. Knowing that, why did you still decide to participate?”
Isaac frowned, squinting at the merfolk. It was hard to make out at this distance, but from what he could tell, Seaton didn’t look condescending or particularly judgmental. Rather, his expression seemed to be one of genuine curiosity.
“Is there something you’re trying to prove?” the merfolk continued. “Some principle, or a promise, perhaps?”
Igor’s beard tilted downwards as the man frowned. “No, nothing like that.”
“Why, then?”
“No one said people below level 20 couldn’t sign up,” Igor said bluntly. “So I did.”
Seaton barked out a laugh, a loud and earnest one that he didn’t try to suppress. It rang across the arena, unexpected enough that more than a few spectators flinched backwards at the sound. The man’s voice got lower when he laughed, Isaac noted; it sounded much closer to when he and Aster had been yelling at each other in the opening event.
Still chuckling slightly, Seaton twirled his spear around in wide, arcing circles, handling the weapon with fluid ease. “I see,” he said. He gripped the spear with both hands and bent down in a ready stance, one that Igor immediately mirrored. The merfolk smiled, eyes sparkling with mirth. “In that case, I won’t hold back.”
The moment Seaton finished speaking, he lunged forward, slamming the tip of the spear into Igor’s shield with all his body weight. The man skid backwards from the impact, clouds of dust rising beneath his feet, but his arms stayed steady. Seaton drew his spear back, revealing a large dent in the center of the shield. As Igor shifted to rebalance himself, the dip caught the golden light rising from the platform and gleamed.
Without a moment’s pause, Seaton launched towards Igor with deceptive speed, this time bringing the spear down in a wide swing. It slammed into the shield, kicking up a second cloud of dust. The screech of metal against metal made Isaac wince, but he kept his eyes glued to the arena.
Igor’s shield was still up, but on the screen, he could see the man’s arm trembling slightly with exertion as Seaton continued to press forward, forcing the man backwards. For a moment they nearly looked even, but in a battle of pure strength, the merfolk had the upper hand.
Igor seemed to come to the same realization. His brows furrowed in concentration, and Isaac watched as the man’s grip on the shield slackened slightly. Isaac realized what he was doing just as Igor hurled himself forward with all his strength, attempting to knock the spear back.
Instead of metal, however, the solid shield crashed through a pool of water. Igor barely had time to widen his eyes when the water separated into smaller jets that surged around the shield, individual streams rapidly weaving together until the spear reformed itself behind his guard. Not missing a beat, Seaton stepped forward and slammed the newly formed weapon straight into his opponent.
Igor stumbled and fell backwards at the impact, his shield falling off to the side as he landed on his back with a thud. The platform light dimmed. Isaac held his breath, only daring to release it when he saw the man move. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath his armor, which had likely absorbed the worst of the hit.
Sprawled on his back, Igor stared upwards at the Old Lands sky filtered through the red barrier, blinking slowly. Isaac barely registered the screen projecting Seaton’s name as the victor, too focused on watching the arena.
A shadow fell over the man as Seaton stepped forward, one arm outstretched. Igor stared at it for a few moments, apparently still processing what had happened, before he finally grabbed it with his own gauntleted hand. The merfolk easily pulled the man back onto his feet, armor and all, a warm smile on his face.
“Good match!” he said with an uncharacteristic brightness that struck Isaac as oddly familiar. Igor nodded slowly, and Isaac saw the corners of his beard twitch upwards.
“Good match.”