Ierba got into stance to face the over-sized drakin, all with two halves of a broken shitty spear. Drakin's tough scales meant physical attacks would do little to pierce them, let alone one with thick callouses of a hide. He'll need Nadier's distraction again to ready a spell powerful enough to take the giant down in one hit.

“Ratface!” Nadier screamed, running into the darkness without plan, in search of the dwarf.

“Wanderer!” Ierba exclaimed for the former to stay, but the dark elf had already vanished into the shadowy covers of stalagmite. “Shit.”

Angus's battleaxe came down the corner of his eyes and Ierba stepped aside smoothly as the blade cut across inches from his face, slicing down and smashing into the ground of where he stood just a split second before.

Standing aside, Ierba calmly waited for the breeze from the attack to die down and the dust to settle. Angus then raised the axe over his shoulder and settled the weapon on his shoulder.

Ierba asked, “Are you sure you want to do this? Even without that idiot, I'm pretty strong.”

“Sorry 'hoss,” Angus answered. “Nothin' personal. Just doing ma' job.”

Job? It seemed not every gladiator was there against their will. Ierba wondered if Angus was put there to watch over Ratface. A person capable of turning into a small rodent would post a significant problem with escape attempts.

“Well, 'hoss',” Ierba answered. “I'll oblige this dance then.”

The axe came swiftly, moving much faster than expected from a drakin of his size, coming in as a wide-side slash. Ierba put up both his weapons and reinforced his mana shell as the impact slammed against his ribs. His body flashed grey and his magic circuits sparked neon white. The seither that mages exuded provided a thin magic forcefield of sorts that could absorb physical impact to certain extends. But the shell is not infinite and could only take so much force. But it was enough to hold.

Ierba gripped tightly on the axe head against his body with his left hand. With his right, he held his palm onto the edge of the pole.

“ASTER!” He yelled.

The practised spell along with the psychological trigger command exploded a burst of hard light from his palm, punching into the polearm's core. But Ierba could tell the hit was not fully connecting as the recoil was not what he expected. As his mind thought that, Angus had already drawn the battleaxe back, reducing the damage to his weapon while his full giant strength sliced across Ierba's guts.

What was left of his magic shell flickered and cracked as the blade cut the last bit of his stomach, slicing through his clothes and drawing thin blood.

“Damn it!” Ierba cursed as he stumbled back.

He had miscalculated, having gotten familiar with the additional protection his Soul Arm would have otherwise afforded him. That second cut had breached his shell. Any future hits would go straight to his bones.

Angus did not relent, jumping forward with another wide swing, his clawed feet slamming into the earth with trembles of quakes. Ierba threw the blunt half of his spear into the ground in the path of the swing, charged with magic. The staff shot a beam of light up which caught the axehead, slowing it down enough for Ierba to jump back. Ierba closed his eyes, snapped his fingers, and the beam exploded with a flash and a bang, light burning through even his lids. Angus yelled at the blinding stun spell and Ierba took the signal to look again.

With the remaining half of his spear, he took the time Angus was stunned and channelled as much dark magic as he could into the spearhead. The area around him was filled with shadowed spaces, and he drew them into the tip of his spear like a magnet. While many think dark magic is the manipulation of shadows, the science behind it is much more complex. Dark mages actually manipulated space itself, with emptier spaces - as with those devoid of light - being easier to control.

“Whatcha doin' 'hoss?” Angus growled, rubbing his eyes furiously, trying to see.

But Ierba remained silent, not wanting to give away his position as the density around his spearhead increased.

Finally, he sighed.

“There ya' are!” Angus swung his axe blindly at the general direction of the breath.

In a move reminiscent of Nadier's fight with the sasquatch, Ierba bolted into a quick sprint and slid under the axe swing. Grabbing the edge of the axe head, he let Angus's monstrous strength carry him up and over the drakin's head. Then, Ierba yanked hard and the weakened polearm snapped, leaving the Omniknight with a heavy battleaxe and in one hand and a magically dense spear in the other.

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Scales protected the drakins from cuts. But impacts?

As if wielding two hammers while falling, he slammed both the axe and heavy spear into the drakin's shoulder. Audibly, he heard bones cracked under the weight as the axe blade lodged itself into the left joint while the spear smashed the right. The spell cracked and a shock wave blasted Angus into the ground while pushing the airborne Ierba back.

The knight landed on both feet as Angus crashed spine first. A tinge of long-forgotten worry hit the back of Ierba's mind. If their first fight here had already broke his shield and cut him, what would future battles be like?

Though he walked over to his down opponent with a confident poise, Ierba was low on seither, and he was not sure if he would even be able to pull off a stunt like that again if Angus managed to stand after that.

To his surprise, the drakin coughed an air of blood before choking out, “Nice work... 'hoss. Go ahead.”

“I'm not going to kill you if I don't have to.”

“Fair.” The giant was breathing heavily, his hot breath heating up the air as Ierba picked up what's left of his spearhead, which was no more than a dagger now. “Honor fighting you, 'hoss.”

“All mine,” Ierba replied.

He contemplated pulling out the axehead to use as a weapon, but decided against it as it would open the wound and cause Angus to bleed out. Instead, he picked up the thick pole of Angus's broken battleaxe. Tearing off his already torn and bloody shirt, he tied the broken spearhead to its new shaft. It was crude, but it would have to do.

“Nadier!” He shouted into the void, only for echoes to reply.

He gave his spearhead a charge of light and held up the torch. The glowing moss illuminated the ground, but not enough fo ar human like him to see into the distance. With the white light, he immediately recognised the colour of dried bloodstains that splattered the ground. The cavern was large, and battles must have broken out sporadically around the area. How many people must have bled out there to have the shade of death be that visible?

The sound of ice crashing into ground turned Ierba's attention further into the cave and he ran towards it. Soon enough, he came up to Nadier and a were-formed Ratface fighting, claws tangling with daggers and Zen tackling the stout man away whenever he got close to her master.

“Once a rat,” Nadier exclaimed, “Always a rat!”

“Shut up!” Ratface growled.

Ice spears formed around the dwarf as he took the moisture from the rocks to form deadly spikes. He rushed at Nadier, the spears shooting at the dark elf. A flame dagger slashed away the pikes while an anti-magic blade shattered each projectile in chunks of ice dust. The Wanderer was late in his last parry and Ratface pounced. Just as it looked as if the dwarf was about to deal a fatal blow, Zen emerged from under the elf's coat, transforming into a giant wolf head made of shadows. It bit down on a terrified Ratface, swallowing the man in black fire, eating him whole. As the dark subsided back to its home in the shade of the cloth, the dark elf was the last being left standing.

As Ierba approached, Nadier's face read of annoyance, probably from being unable to end the fight without death.

But before the knight could say anything, the announcer's voice announced, “The battle has concluded. Victory goes to the team of Nadier and Ierba Lang. Our honoured guests can approach the reception to collect their winnings.”

The pair turned their gazes to the bright box seats where the figures within were slowly getting to their feet, leaving via an exit in the back hidden to the fighters. They could see Atro grinning, and Trini looking to the side. The cloaked figure continued to watch over them, shrouded in mystique. Finally, the arena master and his posse stood up and left, the lights turning off shortly after them.

The announcer continued, “Should the contestants not return to their quarters, security will be sent in for pacification.” A rumble attracted the two fighter's attention to the cave they came from as light poured out from their reopened cell.

“Come on,” Nadier commanded as he walked back.

Ierba clicked his tongue, annoyed at having been ordered around, but followed nonetheless. When they returned to their cell, the wall slowly closed behind them.

Once back, Nadier pulled one of his daggers and threw it into the camera, smashing the magical construct.

“Woah!” Ierba exclaimed. “I know you're pissed, but don't draw attention to us!”

“I have no choice,” Nadier calmly explained without anger. “I needed them to be blind awhile.”

He opened his coat and out walked Zen. On her back was a rat, who looked to them both with beady eyes before jumping off Zen and transforming back into a dwarf.

“Ratface?” Ierba exclaimed.

The dwarf cracked his neck. “Once a rat always a rat ma' arse. I can only hold that form a'while, ya' know? What if I popped outta there?”

Nadier nonchalantly shrugged. “Then you die, I guess.”

“What now, Nads?”

“Find a way out of here, chart it out, and get the map to us. Hide outside after that and wait.” Nadier said. “If you can't escape, find Trini, the woman that's always with At-Tro-Pos. Tell her I sent you.”

Ratface scoffed. “Why wait? I could just run.” He grinned.

Ierba asked Nadier, “Betting on a rat?”

Nadier nodded. “A rat's our best bet.”