IMPORTANT: Bonus chapters CAN BE SKIPPED, I will not add vital information or important characters in bonus chapters, they’re just for pure enjoyment and sometimes adding more richness and detail to the world. Bonus chapters have NO significance to the plot. Do note that bonus chapters will be VERY rare, as I don’t want to break the flow of the story at crucial times and moments. Be sure to rate and review if you’re enjoying this so far, thank ya thank ya.
The atmosphere in the arena was electric, the air thick with the tension of hundreds of onlookers waiting for bloodshed. The ground beneath the fighters was already stained with the aftermath of earlier battles, and now seven more pairs of warriors stood ready to unleash their unique talents. Each fighter was armed with uncanny weapons and techniques, their abilities honed through years of brutal training.
This was no simple tournament—it was a battlefield where fighters could not afford to hold back. The combatants would fight until they broke, until their bodies gave out, but no one would die today. This was about dominance, about proving strength, and about survival.
From the stands, the noise of the crowd was deafening. People were shouting names, placing bets, and screaming for blood.
“Rhazek! I’m putting 100 gold on Rhazek!” one man bellowed, clutching a parchment filled with bets.
“You’re insane,” another replied, shaking his head. “That rogue’s too fast—Eryndra’s going to gut him like a fish!”
“Maybe, but did you see what Rhazek did to that last guy? He turned his armor into mush!” the first man retorted, laughing.
The crowd surged with excitement, the energy palpable. Some were shouting for their favorite fighters, while others simply wanted to see blood hit the dirt. Below, the fighters readied themselves, and the battles began.
Rhazek the Battle Alchemist vs. Eryndra the Rogue
Rhazek's eyes gleamed behind his mask, his bandolier lined with glowing vials of volatile chemicals. In his hand was a dual-bladed alchemical glaive, its long shaft set with rotating vials and gears that hissed with steam, a weapon as much a tool of science as it was of war. Across from him, Eryndra crouched low, her body garbed in form-fitting black leather. She wielded crescent moon daggers, their edges shimmering with a faint, sickly green glow, coated with a neurotoxin that could incapacitate with a single cut.
The bell rang, and Eryndra disappeared into a blur of motion. She dashed at Rhazek, her daggers aimed at his throat. Rhazek reacted instantly, spinning his glaive in a low arc. The blades clanged together, sparks flying as Eryndra’s daggers slid off the alchemical glaive.
“Too slow, alchemist!” Eryndra taunted, her voice a low hiss.
Rhazek’s eyes narrowed as he twisted a vial on his weapon. “We’ll see,” he muttered, as a burst of alchemical flame shot from the glaive’s tip, forcing Eryndra to vault backward. Her agility was uncanny—she flipped in midair, landing silently several feet away.
“Take her down, Rhazek!” a spectator screamed. “Burn her alive!”
But Rhazek wasn’t done. He flung a vial to the ground, and a thick, bubbling foam spread across the floor, expanding rapidly. Tendrils of the foam lashed out, trying to entangle Eryndra’s legs. She dashed through the gaps, her daggers flashing as she sliced through the foam tendrils with ease.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” she taunted again, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Rhazek lunged forward, swinging his glaive in a deadly arc. Eryndra barely managed to parry, but the force of the blow sent her staggering. Rhazek followed up with a quick release of corrosive acid from his weapon, spraying the area around her. Eryndra twisted, avoiding most of the acid, but a few drops sizzled on her armor, eating through the leather.
“Should’ve worn something sturdier,” Rhazek said, his voice cold.
Eryndra smirked, ignoring the damage. “I’ll wear your skin if you don’t shut up.”
She retaliated with a flurry of strikes, her daggers aiming for Rhazek’s exposed joints. One dagger found its mark, slicing across his arm. Rhazek grunted, feeling the neurotoxin begin to numb his muscles, but he smashed a vial against his chest. The alchemical liquid coursed through him, neutralizing the toxin and sending a surge of adrenaline to his limbs.
The fight raged on, both combatants bloodied but unbroken.
---
Kaelen the Martial Artist vs. Jorvhan the Tank
Kaelen stood barefoot, his hands wrapped in iron-alloyed bandages that crackled faintly with energy. His fists were his weapons—imbued with spirit energy that could shatter bones and break minds. Across from him, Jorvhan towered like a mountain, his skin covered in runic tattoos that glowed faintly beneath his heavy, jagged armor. His weapon was an enormous earthbreaker maul, a brutal hammer that could crush stone with a single blow.
Jorvhan swung first, his maul crashing down with the force of a landslide. The ground trembled under the impact, but Kaelen was already gone, his body a blur as he sidestepped the blow. He dashed forward, his fists crackling with energy, and struck Jorvhan’s armored side with a spirit-infused punch.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Kaelen asked, his voice calm despite his speed.
Jorvhan growled. “I’ll crush you into the dirt, little man!”
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With a roar, he swung his maul in a wide arc. Kaelen ducked, the maul missing his head by inches. With lightning speed, Kaelen leapt into the air, spinning into a flying heel kick, his foot colliding with Jorvhan’s helmet. The blow reverberated through the tank’s skull, but he stood firm, grabbing Kaelen’s leg mid-kick and slamming him into the ground.
“Bet you didn’t see that coming!” Jorvhan spat, grinning through his bloodied lips.
Kaelen coughed, blood dripping from his mouth, but rolled to his feet just as Jorvhan brought the maul down again. This time, Kaelen’s hands glowed bright, and he caught the haft of the maul mid-swing. His body trembled under the force, but he channeled his spirit energy through his arms, redirecting the blow and pushing Jorvhan back.
“You’re tough,” Kaelen admitted, his voice steady, “but you’re not fast enough.”
Jorvhan swung again, but Kaelen slipped under the blow, his fists becoming a blur as he unleashed a series of spirit-infused strikes to Jorvhan’s joints. The tank grunted, feeling his knees buckle slightly, but powered through, his maul swinging in wide, devastating arcs.
“Get him, Kaelen!” someone in the crowd shouted. “Don’t let that brute touch you again!”
Kaelen dodged, leapt, and spun, his body moving with fluid grace, but every dodge brought him closer to exhaustion. Jorvhan, bleeding from multiple cuts and bruises, raised his maul for one final swing.
---
Syrris the Beast Tamer vs. Ulveris the Priest
Syrris stood with her hand resting on the head of a massive, spectral onyx lion, its eyes glowing with arcane power. She wore a cloak made of beast hides, and her staff was a carved bone etched with runes of summoning. Across from her, Ulveris, a priest garbed in flowing white robes, raised a crystalline censer that swung from a chain. The censer was filled with glowing embers, and a faint, holy mist drifted from it, surrounding him like a protective veil.
“Send your beast,” Ulveris called, his voice calm and collected. “It won’t save you.”
Syrris smirked. “We’ll see if your gods are as strong as my beasts.”
With a silent command, the onyx lion charged forward, its claws leaving deep gouges in the stone floor. Ulveris stood firm, chanting under his breath, and with a flick of his wrist, the censer’s chain lengthened, becoming a spiked chain mace that he swung with surprising force.
The lion leapt at Ulveris, its jaws wide. The priest swung his censer, the spikes colliding with the lion’s head in a spray of sparks. The spectral beast roared in pain but didn’t fall. It swiped at Ulveris with its massive paw, the claws tearing through his robes and leaving bloody gashes across his chest.
“Your lion fights well,” Ulveris said, gritting his teeth against the pain. “But it’s not enough.”
Ulveris raised his censer high, and a pillar of holy light erupted from the ground, slamming into the lion and sending it flying back toward Syrris. The beast flickered, its form destabilizing, but Syrris whispered another command, and the lion reformed, its eyes burning brighter than before.
“C’mon, Syrris, crush him!” a spectator yelled. “Don’t let that priest show you up!”
Ulveris lunged, his censer spinning in a violent arc. Syrris blocked with her staff, the impact sending a shockwave up her arms. She retaliated by summoning a swarm of spectral wolves, their forms darting around Ulveris, snapping at his limbs. The priest spun his censer, the spikes tearing through the wolves, but for every wolf he destroyed, another appeared in its place.
“Give up, priest,” Syrris taunted, her voice calm. “You’re outmatched.”
Ulveris wiped blood from his lip, his eyes narrowing. “Not yet.”
---
Draxor the Mage vs. Lethys the Warrior
Draxor’s form was draped in a long coat stitched with shimmering scales of fallen dragons, and in his hand, he held a serpent staff coiled with living energy. His magic crackled in the air, a tangible force of nature. Across from him, Lethys, a warrior clad in obsidian armor etched with runes of protection, wielded a serrated glaive that dripped with venom from the fangs embedded in its blade.
“Your magic won’t save you, mage,” Lethys growled, spinning her glaive in a deadly arc.
Draxor raised an eyebrow. “And your sword won’t touch me.”
Lethys charged, her glaive spinning as she closed the distance. The venomous fangs aimed to pierce through Draxor’s defenses. The mage raised his staff, and from its tip, a serpent made of pure lightning shot forward, wrapping itself around Lethys’ weapon. The glaive sparked as the lightning serpent constricted, but Lethys powered through, swinging the glaive with enough force to break the serpent apart and slam the blade into Draxor’s side.
Draxor grunted, feeling the venom burn through his robes and into his skin, but he retaliated instantly. With a flick of his wrist, the ground beneath Lethys erupted in spikes of hardened stone, forcing her to leap back. Draxor pressed his advantage, summoning draconic claws of molten lava from the air, which slashed at Lethys in rapid succession.
“Can’t dodge forever,” Draxor said, his voice cold.
Lethys growled, her glaive spinning in a tight arc, the venomous fangs catching Draxor’s arm. Blood sprayed from the wound, and the venom spread quickly, but Draxor’s eyes glowed with furious power. He slammed his staff into the ground, and a storm of fire and lightning erupted around him, forcing Lethys to retreat.
“You’ll burn for that,” Lethys spat, her eyes blazing with fury as she readied herself for the next assault.
---
Thalor the Priest vs. Korrath the Rogue
Thalor, his golden robes shimmering with divine energy, held a sanctified scythe glowing with the power of the sun. Across from him, Korrath crouched low, his whip-blades coiled around his arms like serpents. The blades were razor-thin, designed to slice through flesh with the slightest flick of his wrist.
Korrath struck first, his whip-blades unraveling in a blur of motion. They snaked through the air, their razor edges gleaming as they aimed for Thalor’s throat. The priest spun his scythe, deflecting the blades with a shower of sparks, but Korrath was relentless, sending the whip-blades in from every angle, each swipe targeting a vital area.
“You can’t block forever,” Korrath sneered, his voice filled with malice.
Thalor’s scythe glowed with holy light, and with a wide swing, he unleashed a wave of sanctified flame that forced Korrath to backflip out of range.
“Holy fire, huh?” Korrath grinned. “Nice trick.”
The rogue darted forward, his whip-blades spinning in tight, controlled arcs. One blade caught Thalor’s leg, tearing through his robes and drawing blood.
Thalor grimaced but whispered a prayer, his wounds sealing with divine energy as he retaliated with a leaping strike, the blade of his scythe aimed at Korrath’s chest. Korrath dodged, but not fast enough—the scythe’s edge grazed his arm, sending a spray of blood into the air.
The two fighters clashed in a whirlwind of steel and magic, neither willing to give an inch.
---
Zorak the Warrior vs. Nydra the Beast Tamer
Zorak, a warrior with a warhammer designed from the skull of a wyvern, charged across the battlefield, his muscles bulging as he swung the massive weapon with terrifying speed. Nydra, standing beside her primal stone drake, raised her hand, commanding the beast to charge as well.
The drake roared, its stone scales grinding against each other as it lunged at Zorak. But the warrior wasn’t intimidated. He brought his warhammer down in a powerful arc, the skull cracking against the drake’s head with a deafening thud. The drake staggered back, but Nydra shouted a command, and the beast surged forward once more, its claws raking across Zorak’s chest.
Blood sprayed, but Zorak grinned through the pain. “Is that all you’ve got?”
He swung his hammer again, this time catching the drake in the side and sending the massive creature crashing into the arena wall. Nydra was quick, though—her whip of thorned vines lashed out, wrapping around Zorak’s arm and pulling him off balance.
“Try keeping up, warrior!” Nydra called, her voice filled with mockery.
Zorak growled, ripping the vines from his arm with brute force. He lunged at Nydra, his warhammer aimed at her head, but she ducked, rolling under the swing and commanding her drake to strike again. The beast’s tail whipped around, catching Zorak in the side and sending him skidding across the blood-soaked ground.
The two fighters glared at each other, both bloodied but still ready to continue.
---
Malrith the Martial Artist vs. Verak the Mage
Malrith stood in a low stance, her hands glowing with chi energy, while Verak, a mage with a staff of shimmering ice, channeled draconic mana through his weapon. The air between them crackled with tension.
Verak struck first, slamming the tip of his staff into the ground. Spikes of ice erupted from the ground, shooting toward Malrith. She dodged, flipping through the air with incredible precision. As she landed, her fists glowed brighter, and she dashed forward, her hands a blur as she unleashed a series of chi-infused strikes at Verak’s chest.
“Too slow,” Malrith said, her voice calm as her fists connected.
Verak blocked with his staff, the force of each punch sending vibrations through the ice. “You’re fast, but you won’t last,” he growled.
He retaliated with a blast of freezing wind, but Malrith moved faster than the wind, darting behind him and delivering a powerful kick to his leg. Verak staggered, but with a wave of his hand, he summoned chains of ice that wrapped around Malrith’s arms, freezing her in place.
“Got you now,” Verak sneered.
Malrith gritted her teeth, focusing her chi until her body burst with heat, melting the ice in an instant. She spun, delivering a devastating elbow strike to Verak’s ribs. The mage gasped, feeling the air leave his lungs, but he managed to drive the butt of his staff into her abdomen, knocking her back.
The two circled each other, neither willing to back down as blood dripped from their wounds.
---
The arena was a storm of brutal, bloody combat, each fighter pushing their limits in a desperate struggle to outlast their opponent. The crowd roared for more, their bloodlust insatiable.