The two screens in front of them changed colors, one of them now green and the other red. A scoreboard appeared with two different brackets on it. One of them was the loser’s bracket, which Tobias was now in, and the other was the winner’s bracket, which Reka was in. Reka walked to the back of the room and sat down at an empty seat. She was mobbed by other fighters, but she ignored them. It seemed as if the first fight had received VIP treatment as the other ones were announced by the scoreboard instead of Berrigious himself.
For the next three hours, Sam sat there watching the matches. Most of them ended rather quickly, one of the fighters much stronger than the other, but a few were quite interesting. The 35th fight was between the Bear of the Motherland, a man who Sam had briefly seen on the levels leaderboard, and another man who called himself Reaper. Reaper had a very unsettling skillset. He could commune with ghosts and use them for power, and he started off the fight with the summoning of a terrifying apparition. It looked like a giant diseased head that had blank white eyes, marred with cataracts. It let out a piercing scream that had most of the audience on the ground from how loud it was. Some of the stronger people resisted it and were able to catch the first few moments of the fight.
A beam of gray energy shot out of the mouth of the specter and towards the other fighter. The Bear, a tall and heavily muscled man, leaped over it, with his battle ax overhead. With a loud exclamation in Russian he fell down, with his ax glowing brightly. It crashed into the ghostly head with a thundercrack, struggling against the ectoplasm for a moment before cutting through. A loud cheer rose from the crowd, especially from a certain area. It seemed as if the man had a fan club. Reaper was unperturbed and he raised his hand, summoning a transparent sword into his hand. The man ran forwards and ducked under a wild swing of the battleax, chopping at the other fighter’s leg.
The Bear narrowly dodged it and slammed his ax down, cutting off a piece of Reaper’s lank black hair. The Bear taunted him, but he failed to notice the wave of energy that formed behind him. By the time that he turned around, it was already too late and he was swallowed up by an amorphous ghost. Reaper turned around as if to say that he was done with the fight, but a roar echoed out of the ghost, coming from the Bear. The ectoplasm started to tear and the ghost exploded into a cloud of jelly-like fragments, revealing the Russian fighter there. His skin was burnt away in places, but he stood tall and proud. Pointing his finger at Reaper, he spoke.
“That was a cheap shot.” His thick Russian accent lent extra depth to his words. Reaper shrugged in response.
“All’s fair in love and war,” the man said, in a flat monotone.
The Bear scoffed and threw his ax forwards. As it flew, a jet of blue fire formed behind its head, propelling it at greater and greater speeds. Its owner ran behind it and with a howl of rage, he leapt up and grabbed his ax out of the air, using its momentum to add extra power to it. Reaper stared at the weapon as it fell and then thrust his hand out, a spike of gray energy forming on it. His opponent tried to dodge, but he was in the air so it was impossible. The skewer of energy pierced him through the stomach.
Instead of falling back like Reaper had expected, the Bear leaned forwards and grabbed onto the spike. His palm sizzled as it touched the ectoplasm, but he gritted his teeth and pulled himself forwards. His ax came down on top of Reaper, the man unable to get out of the way. The ax sunk deep into the man’s shoulder, lodging in the bone. The Bear smiled in triumph as Reaper fell over, but then he too fell backwards, the blood loss too much for him. The fight had ended in a tie and the scoreboard reflected that. Both of the fighters were sent to the losers bracket and would have the chance to redeem themselves later.
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Most of the fights were quite dull to Sam’s eyes, as he saw them in what was basically slow motion, but a few like the one between the Bear and Reaper were interesting. As well as being just entertaining, they told him a bit about the fighting styles of those who he would probably end up fighting eventually. The 131st match was the first one since the beginning that Berrigious announced to the crowd.
“NOW, FOR THE GREATEST MATCH YET IN THIS TOURNAMENT, THE PRODIGY OF THE DAO VERSUS THE SLAYER OF DEMONS, WE HAVE THE ARBITER VERSUS THE ANGEL OF DEATH!” Sam was finally up.
Excited for the fight, he stood up from this chair and locked eyes with his opponent across the room. They walked up the ramp together and faced off on the sand. Berrigious hyped up the fight and the crowd's cheers rose to unprecedented levels. When the signal to start rang out, Sam studied his opponent closely. He did not know much about the man, except for a bit of his fighting style. If he underestimated his opponent, then he would very well lose. Despite his own twin Daos, the other man had a higher level than him and past level 25, levels really increased one’s strength.
The Angel of Death was silent as he in turn studied Sam and they waited a good few seconds before engaging in battle. Sam waited for the other man to strike first, as he was slower than the Angel. His sword flashed out of its scabbard in an arc of steel and light and pointed towards Sam. He raised his mace to defend and the first attack came in like a lightning bolt. Two streams of white light erupted from each slash of the man’s sword and sliced through the air at Sam.
He held his mace in defense, but the force behind the attacks still staggered him. They were far stronger than he had expected them to be judging by their effectiveness in the first battle. Perhaps the man had been holding back his true power in order to trick the other competitors into making rash decisions. In any case, Sam was still in the fight and he pushed aside the light beams with his mace, relying on his prodigious strength to do so. The other man stared at him and then flashed forward, his rapier point outstretched. Sam planted his mace in the ground and began to draw upon his Dao.
The fiery feeling of pure rage filled his body. He only had a few seconds before the damage would become debilitating, so he channeled his wrath to its fullest extent. His skin glowed red and his hand accelerated to far higher speeds than he normally would have been able to reach, grasping for the rapier. The Angel was faster still however, and he twisted in midair to avoid the reaching hand.
Sam tried to dodge, but he was far too slow and a stripe of pain slashed across his cheek, drawing blood. He roared and redoubled his Dao use, succeeding in catching the Angel with his hand. With a growl of rage, he twisted and slammed the man down into the dirt, cracking something in him. The Angel had focused almost solely on speed over all else, and Sam was going to make him regret that decision. Obviously pained, the man jumped back up after Sam had let go, limping slightly. He screamed something out in Italian and then exploded into pure white fire. The fire condensed around his form and fiery wings formed behind his back. Sam briefly wondered how the man had been able to get past the System translator but decided that that question was useless in the current situation. Instead, he braced for impact. There was no point in dodging the next attack,as it would far outstrip Sam’s speed. Instead, he would have to tank it. Crossing his arms, Sam attempted to give himself a modicum of protection. He funneled some of his Arbiter Dao energy into his arms, hoping that it would increase his defense.