Heading to the chow hall felt like stepping into another world, a brief respite from the chaos of my mind. As soon as I entered, I spotted Elyria. Her presence was like a beacon in the dimly lit hall, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief seeing her there.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching.

"Better than expected," I lied, not wanting to delve into the emotional storm of last night. "Korrok isn't exactly known for his table manners."

She laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Well, there's quite a difference between a beautiful elf and an abyssal marauder, don't you think?" She gestured to herself, emphasizing the obvious.

I chuckled, grateful for the levity. We moved to get our food, and I couldn't help but notice how empty the hall was. "Where is everyone?" I asked.

Elyria's expression sobered. "A lot are gone. Dead. And I heard the quest area had more survivors than usual."

The reminder of the arena's brutality hit me hard. "This is all broadcasted, right? Are people watching me now?"

"Most likely," Elyria replied with a smirk. "So be your charming self."

I felt my cheeks warm. "I'm not sure how I'm doing that."

"That's why so many like you," she said, her smile genuine.

We ate in silence, the gravity of the situation settling in. Then, my notification came, signaling it was my turn to prepare. Elyria walked with me to the preparation area, her presence comforting. She wished me luck, and I plunged into the task ahead.

In the preparation room, I contemplated meditating. The thought of revisiting that emotional bridge terrified me. "I'll ask Elyria about it after the fight," I thought, "if I make it through."

I chose a surface-level meditation, avoiding the deeper, more treacherous waters of my mind. Time blurred until I was called to the arena.

Entering the arena, I was greeted by a highlight reel of my fights, my latest battle taking center stage. There was no mention of my meditations or the bridge, and I felt a sense of relief. As I faced my opponent, my mind was a whirlwind of questions and fears. But for now, they had to wait. The immediate challenge demanded my focus, and I was ready to face it head-on.

Once my highlights dimmed, the atmosphere shifted. A deeper, more reverential mood settled.

"And now, for the epitome of gallantry and honor, the guardian angel of a tucked away village, the ray of hope for the downtrodden... Siriana, the Divine Vanguard!" The mere mention of her name drew an awed murmur from the crowd, a testament to her renown.

Jag Roneo: Siriana! She’s got a rep as the Divine Vanguard. This is a clash of titans, Bill—one for the ages!

Bill Ruggles: Aye, Jag. She’s a guardian angel in armor. This is like watchin' a legend step onto the battlefield. Everett’s got his hands full today!

The projection painted the picture of a quaint village, an amalgamation of yesteryears and today. It zoomed in on Siriana, her formidable stature contrasting her tender-hearted actions as she defended her home from marauders. The narrator's tone grew rich, underlining the importance of her journey. "From her village's modest guardian to this grand spectacle, in pursuit of power to safeguard the vulnerable, Siriana's quest is a righteous one."

Transitioning to her combat feats, the montage unveiled Siriana’s battles. Unlike mine, which had nuances and tactics, hers were a dazzling display of divine might. Opponents, no matter their skill, seemed to falter before her radiant powers. It was unmistakable – she hadn’t met her equal.

"She doesn't just prevail; she reigns supreme. Not out of malice, but with the force of her unwavering conviction," the announcer's voice boomed.

Jag Roneo: Siriana’s highlights are somethin’ else! She’s a force of nature. Opponents fall like leaves in a storm. Everett’s up against pure divine fury.

Bill Ruggles: It’s like watchin' a saint go to war, Jag. She’s not just winnin'—she’s crusadin'. Everett’s gotta find a way to cut through that holiness.

As the highlights waned, we stood opposite each other at the arena's heart, the gravitas of our tales evident. The crowd's anticipation was thick, the air charged with excitement.

The announcer concluded, flair evident, "Two formidable forces, each with their own saga, their prowess, their legacy. Let this legendary tussle begin!" The arena reverberated with cheers, all eager for the monumental clash to kick off.

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As the sun just peeked out beyond the clouds, its glare bounced off the arena’s sand, creating an illusion of a shimmering sea. In the crowd, an anticipatory hush settled, broken only by the occasional whispers of those placing last-minute wagers.

The sand crunched beneath my boots as I stepped out, feeling the weight of my broadsword in my grip. Its blade seemed eager, thirsty. My Forearm Shield of Returning adhered to me, its reflective surface catching the sun, almost blinding. I quickly scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail, every possible edge I could exploit.

Directly opposite, Siriana stood, looking every bit the Divine Vanguard she was. Her silver armor shone, the runes etched into it softly glowing, a subtle promise of power. The crown of white feathers atop her head gave her an otherworldly air. Her fingers were wrapped confidently around her blade's hilt.

Jag Roneo: Look at Siriana! Like a beacon of divine power. Her armor’s gleamin’, those runes glowin’—she’s a walkin’ legend!

Bill Ruggles: Aye, she’s like an avengin' angel, all shiny and fierce. Everett’s lookin' tough, but he’s facin' a right holy terror today, Jag.

The stillness was palpable, disrupted only by a bird's distant cry. But then, the announcer’s voice shattered the quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, witness a clash of titans! Your beloved drifter versus the village’s beacon of hope!”

The call to action was clear.

Without warning, Siriana lunged, her blade shimmering with the aura of Divine Strike. Instinctively, I took a defensive stance, raising my shield to meet her onslaught. The world flashed white as our weapons met, her divine light momentarily stealing my sight. Disoriented, I staggered, quickly trying to regain my bearings.

Jag Roneo: Siriana’s startin’ off with Divine Strike! Everett’s gotta be seein’ stars after that flash!

Bill Ruggles: It’s like she’s swingin' the sun itself, Jag! Everett’s gotta get his bearings quick, or he’s in for a rough ride.

Harnessing the power of Tornado's Swiftness, I darted to her left, seeking an advantage. My blade descended in a swift arc, but she was ready, parrying with a fluidity that spoke of years of training. Undeterred, I threw my shield her way, trying to catch her off guard. But she summoned her Guardian's Aegis, deflecting my shield with ease. I could feel the ripple of energy as it hit, and with a thought, willed my shield back to me.

Jag Roneo: Everett’s usin’ Tornado’s Swiftness—he’s tryin’ to get the upper hand! But Siriana’s got that Guardian’s Aegis, deflectin’ like a pro.

Bill Ruggles: Aye, she’s like a fortress on wheels, Jag. Everett’s gotta keep pressin’, but Siriana’s not givin’ an inch.

The dance continued. Siriana's runes seemed to glow even brighter, and with a commanding shout, she invoked Heavenly Retribution. Light, searing and blinding, rained down, but I was ready. With Tempest's Wrath surging within, I powered through, my axe alive with energy. Steel met steel, the chorus of our combat echoing in the silent air.

Jag Roneo: Heavenly Retribution comin’ down! Everett’s pushin’ through with Tempest’s Wrath. It’s like a battle between heaven and storm!

Bill Ruggles: It’s a light show and a storm, Jag. Steel clashin', magic flashin'. This is like watchin' a thunderstorm and a firework show all at once!

Time seemed to stretch, each moment an eternity. We danced around one another, two forces of nature locked in a relentless battle. In a surge of energy, I unleashed my Boltfury Slash, the storm within magnifying its power. Yet she held her ground, her own divine energy forming a barrier against my assault.

With each passing second, fatigue crept in. Sweat streaked my face, and my limbs felt heavy. But looking at her, I knew she felt the same. Neither of us would back down.

Jag Roneo: Both fighters are slowin’ down, but they’re not givin’ up. It’s a test of wills now, Bill. Who’s gonna crack first?

Bill Ruggles: They’re like two old blokes arm-wrestlin' in a pub, refusin' to give up. It’s a battle of endurance and grit, Jag.

I did have one trick to use, I called upon the Rainfall Regeneration. I could feel my strength returning, the wounds closing up, drawing power from my elemental compass tattoo. Siriana, my wounds heal charged with renewed vigor, hoping to cut me down before I could heal too much. But I was ready, intercepting her blade with my shield, catching her off balance. I swung, hoping to end it, but she dug deep, parrying at the very last moment. We dove away from each other. She next struck with her weapon imbued with divine strike, this time I knew what to expect, rather than taking it on my shield, I just managed to dive away. I screamed at her, “do it, finish me, prove your worth.” This struck a chord with her and she came at me with renewed vigor. Another divine strike aimed at my sword hand, I barely moved, and took a glancing blow. She gained momentum after that, attacking fiercely, nearly out of control. But, she was not doing enough damage to me, and she did not realize that. I was still healing with my rainfall regeneration. It was slow, but enough to keep me upright.

Jag Roneo: Everett’s healin’ up with Rainfall Regeneration, folks! Siriana’s comin’ at him with everythin’ she’s got, but he’s holdin’ steady.

Bill Ruggles: It’s like watchin' a bloke patch himself up in the middle of a brawl. Siriana’s givin’ it her all, but Everett’s still standin'. He’s like a walkin' patch-up job!

Finally, she reached for another divine strike, and nothing happened. She was on cooldown or ran out of mana, or something happened because she looked shocked and lost all momentum. Just then, I dove to my right and fired my shield, as it was flying, I cast Tempest’s Wrath, I had been saving it just for a moment like this, but I did not cast it on my sword, no, I cast it on my shield.

The resulting shock from the lightning hitting the shield sent Siriana flying, at least 3 feet in the air. She landed with a resounding thud, I wasted no time, I dispatched her right then and there, she had fought well, I ended it with a quick stab to the throat. The crowd was stunned. I looked down at her and whispered, more to myself than to her, “In this arena, even the brightest lights are extinguished.” Then I turned to leave the arena. As I walked away, the crowd’s stunned silence spoke louder than any cheer. I had triumphed, yes, but at what cost?

Jag Roneo: Siriana’s out of juice! Everett’s firin’ his shield with Tempest’s Wrath—she’s airborne! This is the finish!

Bill Ruggles: He’s like a thunderstorm on legs, Jag. Siriana’s down, and Everett’s takin' the win. It’s a bittersweet victory. Even the brightest lights get snuffed out in this place.

Winner! Everett the drifter.