Towan reached the group first, his instincts guiding his movements. As he closed the distance, he noticed the young warrior struggling to fend off an attack from behind. Without hesitation, Towan leapt into action, twisting his body mid-air and delivering a spinning kick that struck the corrupted fighter square in the chest. The force of the blow sent the assailant stumbling backward and crashing to the ground.
“You all right?” Towan asked, extending a hand to the young warrior, who had fallen to his knees during the chaos. His tone was steady but laced with urgency.
The young man glanced up, momentarily startled by the sudden assistance. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he stammered, gripping Towan’s hand and pulling himself up.
“I’m Towan,” he said quickly, his sharp gaze already scanning for the next threat. “We’re here to help.”
“Thank you,” the young man replied, nodding as determination replaced the momentary shock on his face. “I’m Axel.”
Before Towan could respond, Axel turned back to the fray, his grip tightening around his weapon as he charged toward another corrupted warrior. His movements were more focused now, bolstered by the reassurance of having allies in the fight.
Towan watched for a brief moment, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. Despite his youth and the overwhelming odds, Axel’s resolve was unwavering.
“All right, let’s clean this up,” Towan muttered under his breath, steeling himself as he joined Axel in the battle, his strikes precise and powerful as he worked to even the odds.
Towan reached the group first, his instincts honed by battle. As he approached, he spotted the young warrior struggling to fend off an attack from behind. Without hesitation, Towan sprang into action, twisting his body mid-air and delivering a spinning kick that struck the corrupted fighter square in the chest. The force of the blow sent the attacker hurtling backward and crashing to the ground.
“You all right?” Towan asked, extending a steady hand to the young warrior, who had dropped to one knee in the chaos. His voice carried urgency but also reassurance.
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The young man glanced up, momentarily startled by the unexpected assistance. His grip on his spear trembled slightly before he took Towan’s hand and pulled himself up.
“I’m fine. Thanks,” the young warrior said, brushing off the dirt from his clothes. His gaze met Towan’s, gratitude evident despite the heat of the moment.
“I’m Towan,” Towan introduced himself quickly, his eyes already darting around to assess the battlefield. “We’re here to help.”
“Axel,” the young man replied, nodding firmly as he regained his stance.
Axel adjusted his spear, its metal tip glinting ominously under the arena’s dim light. With renewed confidence, he turned back to the fray, reassured now that Towan had his back. His movements became more deliberate, the initial panic fading into a calm and focused rhythm.
The spear proved to be invaluable in this kind of skirmish. Axel used its length and reach to keep multiple corrupted fighters at bay, sweeping in wide arcs to create space and deliver precision strikes to his enemies. The relaxed confidence Towan’s arrival had given him allowed him to fight slower and steadier, his form improving with every thrust and parry.
Towan watched him for a fleeting moment, impressed by the young man’s adaptability. “Not bad,” he muttered to himself with a smirk before diving back into the fray, his powerful strikes complementing Axel’s calculated movements. Together, they began to turn the tide, each covering the other's blind spots with unspoken coordination.
Elliot darted into the fray, his movements sharp and calculated as he quickly assessed the battlefield. Spotting the veteran fighter struggling to hold back a surge of corrupted warriors, Elliot surged forward to assist.
“I’m Elliot!” he called out, his voice steady despite the chaos. He pivoted on his heel and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to a corrupted fighter’s chest, sending the foe stumbling backward before crashing to the ground.
The veteran fighter turned his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as his fists connected with devastating force. Each punch reverberated with raw power, launching three corrupted warriors off their feet like ragdolls.
“I remember you,” the older man said, his voice gruff but tinged with recognition. He didn’t break his rhythm, seamlessly transitioning to a low sweep that knocked another attacker off balance. “You and your brother were watching us train a month ago, right?” He deflected a blade with his forearm, countering with a crushing elbow strike. “I’m Lytharos.”
The name struck a chord with Elliot, stirring a vague memory he couldn’t quite place. His brow furrowed momentarily, but there was no time to dwell on it.
“Right—yeah, I remember!” Elliot responded between movements, his tone distracted as he ducked under a wild swing. He retaliated with a quick jab to the ribs and a follow-up knee strike to another attacker, creating some breathing room.