“Mew…” Faylinn’s small, tired noise came from within Cedric’s shirt, where she had been hiding. The little fox was clearly exhausted from using her powers to assist him, and Cedric felt a pang of guilt. He gently patted her head, his touch soft and reassuring.
“Thank you, Fay,” Cedric murmured, his voice low and comforting. Despite the chaos and pain of the past few hours, the fact that his friends were now by his side gave him a measure of peace. He knew he wasn’t in any better shape—his body ached, his arm throbbed with a dull pain, and his energy was almost completely drained—but having Tristan and Magnus nearby filled him with a renewed sense of determination.
He looked at Tristan, who was now standing tall, the flames from his newly absorbed power still flickering faintly around him. Magnus was at his side, a reassuring presence despite the dire circumstances.
"Are you okay, Cedric?" Tristan asked, concern etched across his face as he noticed the state Cedric was in. Cedric managed a strained smile, shaking his head slightly.
"I'm fine," Cedric replied, even though the pain in his arm was nearly unbearable. The arena doors began to creak open, signaling the entrance of the next wave of contestants.
“Alrighty! Demons and Monsters, cheer to welcome our champi—wait, what was it…” The announcer’s voice suddenly paused, as though distracted. The crowd’s anticipation hung in the air, thick and expectant.
After a moment, the announcer’s voice returned, tinged with disappointment. “Sad news, Demons and Monsters, our champion requests to join later as he deems this arena is too messy for him. He’ll join after this fight ends!” A loud boo from the crowd reverberated through the arena, expressing their dissatisfaction.
“Well then,” the announcer continued, regaining his energetic tone, “the fight will still follow the previously mentioned rules. The three humans against the rest of the contestants! Which team will win?”
Magnus, his gaze fixated on Cedric’s injured arm, shouted toward the announcer’s box, frustration clear in his voice. “Hey! At least let us rest before continuing the fight!”
But the announcer’s response was swift and dismissive. “Your team can use power! So don’t complain, big guy!”
The crowd roared, eager to see the battle continue, while the contestants began to flood into the arena.
The contestants charged at them with reckless abandon, eyes gleaming with the desire for victory. Tristan struck down two of them with a swift burst of fire, but one managed to flank him from behind, forcing him to pivot quickly, barely catching the movement out of the corner of his eye. Similarly, Magnus found himself momentarily overwhelmed as a contestant dodged his heavy swing and got too close for comfort.
Cedric, battered and weary, faced off against two opponents. The first one lunged at him with a sword raised high, while the second aimed a crossbow straight at his chest. With a sharp inhale, Cedric managed to dodge the initial strike, swiftly freezing the attacker in mid-motion. Without hesitation, he teleported directly in front of the second contestant, sword swinging.
The contestant, quick on his feet, dodged the blow and fired the crossbow in return. The bolt missed Cedric by a hair, grazing his cheek as it zipped past. Undeterred, Cedric closed the distance in an instant, his sword flashing as he aimed to strike down his opponent. The contestant, retreating in haste, blocked the attack with the crossbow, the force of the clash sending him tumbling to the ground.
Seeing an opening, Cedric raised his sword, aiming to end the fight with a downward stab. But the fallen contestant dropped the crossbow, catching Cedric’s blade with both hands, halting its descent just inches from his face. Cedric gritted his teeth, trying to force the sword down, but his strength was waning, and he couldn't press further.
Before he could react, the first contestant, now unfrozen, delivered a brutal kick to Cedric’s side, sending him sprawling. Cedric hit the ground hard, his vision swimming as the pain flared in his abdomen. The contestant he'd nearly impaled was on him in an instant, grabbing him by the neck and driving a fist into his stomach with relentless force.
Cedric gasped, the air knocked out of him as he rolled to the side, clutching his midsection. The other contestant, seeing his chance, raised his sword high and leaped to deliver a fatal blow. Cedric, thinking quickly, froze the attacker mid-air, the figure suspended ominously above him.
But there was no time to breathe. Cedric sensed danger and instinctively turned to his left, just in time to see another contestant firing an arrow directly at him. His reflexes kicked in, and with a desperate lunge, he reached out and caught the arrow mere inches from his face. The sharp tip quivered in his grip, so close to his eye that it sent a shiver down his spine. A second later, and it would have pierced straight through his skull.
While the contestant hurriedly reloaded the crossbow, Cedric seized the opportunity to grab his sword and fall back, assessing the situation. Fighting both of them at once wasn't an option; he needed to find a way to separate them and turn the odds in his favor.
He backed up, his movements instinctively aligning with Magnus and Tristan, who were also retreating under the pressure of their own opponents. Their backs pressed together, and without exchanging words, they knew they had to coordinate their efforts if they were to survive.
"I'll attack first," Tristan commanded, his voice firm and clear despite the chaos. "Cedric, follow my lead. Magnus, cover our flanks."
Both Cedric and Magnus nodded in agreement. Tristan didn't hesitate; he unleashed a powerful wave of fire in all directions, forcing the nearby contestants to either dodge or block the searing flames. The heat washed over the arena, momentarily disrupting their adversaries' formation.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Tristan charged at the nearest contestant, his sword blazing with fiery energy. The contestant managed to block Tristan's initial strike, but it left him open. Cedric, quick on his feet, followed through with a precise stab to the side, the blade sinking deep into the contestant's torso. As the man staggered, a sharp whizzing sound cut through the air—a crossbow bolt aimed directly at Cedric.
Magnus, ever vigilant, stepped in just in time to block the arrow with his magical shield, deflecting it harmlessly to the ground. The trio moved fluidly, Tristan's powerful attacks creating openings, Cedric capitalizing on them with deadly precision, and Magnus covering their defenses.
With a final, swift strike, they brought down the first contestant, his body collapsing to the sandy arena floor. But there was no time to rest; nine more opponents remained, each just as deadly as the last.
The odds were still against them, but they fought on, knowing that they had to rely on each other to survive this deadly game.
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Liora clung tightly to Miss Elysia as they continued to navigate through the crowd, the roaring cheers and boos from the spectators nearly drowning out every other sound. The atmosphere was electric, with every viewer on the edge of their seat, eyes glued to the fierce battle unfolding in the arena below. Miss Elysia kept pushing forward, her focus unwavering as they made their way toward the announcer's box.
"Look at that agility from the Slayer! He dodges the venomous crawler’s tail swipe and counters with a precise strike to the leg!" The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, capturing the attention of everyone in the stands. The crowd erupted in a mixture of admiration and disappointment as their bets were either validated or crushed.
"Excuse me," Miss Elysia repeated, trying to squeeze through the packed rows of spectators. "Sorry, coming through."
"Is that all you’ve got, big guy?" The announcer taunted, as Magnus, the big guy, took a powerful hit from a towering ogre. The crowd gasped as Magnus staggered but quickly recovered, blocking a follow-up blow with his shield. "A solid block from the big guy—looks like he’s not down yet! But can he take another hit like that?"
Liora peeked over Miss Elysia’s shoulder, her eyes wide as she watched the Slayer leap back into action. Cedric’s movements were swift and calculated, every swing of his sword met with either a parry or a devastating blow to his opponent. She couldn’t help but gasp when Cedric narrowly avoided a swipe from a massive clawed hand.
"The Slayer barely escapes that one—this fight is getting intense, folks! But what’s this? The feline is back on its feet, closing in on Blondie from behind—watch out, Blondie!" The announcer’s excitement was palpable, his voice guiding the crowd’s reactions as Tristan, Blondie, spun just in time to unleash a burst of fire, forcing the feline to retreat.
"Hey, stop blocking the view!" a viewer shouted at Miss Elysia, annoyed as she passed by, obstructing his line of sight.
"Sorry, sir," Miss Elysia said quickly, trying to move faster. Liora kept her gaze fixed on the arena, watching as the fight continued to escalate.
"And now the big guy is up against the ogre again—this time, he’s going for the legs! Smart move, folks, trying to bring that brute down to his level!" The announcer’s commentary highlighted the tactical decisions being made on the fly, as Magnus swung his axe low, aiming to cripple his much larger opponent.
The crowd roared as Magnus’s axe struck true, sending the ogre toppling to one knee. "He’s done it! The big guy’s brought the ogre down—but he’d better watch out, here comes the twin-headed serpent!" The tension in the arena was palpable as the serpent closed in, both heads striking in unison.
"Good defend from the big guy—looks like he’s going to—oh no! Near misses!" The announcer narrated as Magnus narrowly avoided the serpent’s fangs, his shield just barely holding off one head while the other snapped dangerously close to his side.
Miss Elysia continued to push forward, her determination driving her past the yelling spectators. The announcer’s voice continued to echo through the arena, filling every corner with his rapid commentary. "The Slayer and Blondie are working together now—Blondie’s fire is forcing the ice drake back, while the Slayer is going in for the kill! Can they do it?"
Liora held her breath as Cedric and Tristan fought side by side, their attacks complementing each other perfectly. The ice drake let out a roar of frustration as Tristan’s fire melted its icy defenses, allowing Cedric to land a critical blow. The crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch.
"These humans are putting on quite the show, folks! But let’s not forget, they’re not the only ones in this fight! Look at that! The twin-headed serpent is relentless, and the big guy’s shield is starting to crack—can he hold on?"
Miss Elysia could see the announcer's box just ahead, the platform elevated above the chaos of the arena. She steeled herself for the final push, determined to reach it no matter what.
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"And there’s the feline again, trying to outflank the Slayer—but Blondie’s not having it! Another well-timed fireball from Blondie, and the feline is forced to retreat once more! These three are really holding their own, but how long can they keep this up?"
Liora watched in awe as Cedric, Tristan, and Magnus continued to fight as a cohesive unit, their teamwork keeping them one step ahead of their opponents. But the battle was far from over, and the arena was still filled with deadly threats.
"The big guy’s in trouble now, folks—the twin-headed serpent has him pinned! But wait—here comes the Slayer! He’s leaping into action!" The crowd gasped as Cedric rushed to Magnus’s aid, his sword slicing through one of the serpent’s heads with precision.
"The Slayer lands a critical hit—but can he finish the job? The serpent’s still alive, and it’s angrier than ever!" The announcer’s voice was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd as they watched Cedric and Magnus team up to take down the serpent once and for all.
Miss Elysia finally reached the stairs leading up to the announcer’s box, her heart pounding as she glanced back at the arena one last time. The dust had mostly settled, and she could see Cedric, Tristan, and Magnus standing together, their expressions grim but determined as they prepared for the next wave of attacks.
"The humans are still standing, but for how much longer? This fight isn’t over yet, Demons and Monsters—get ready for the next round!" The announcer’s voice echoed ominously as Miss Elysia climbed the stairs, Liora clutching her tightly.
As they walked up the stairs, passing by the Feryx guards who seemed far more interested in the ongoing fight than their actual duties, Miss Elysia carefully opened the door to the announcer's box. Inside, Liora's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a small, chubby cat sitting in a high-backed chair, speaking animatedly into a crystal ball. The cat's fluffy fur was a soft cream color, and he had large, round eyes that seemed almost too big for his face, giving him an oddly cute appearance.
"Alright, folks! We’ll let them rest before the champion co—hey, what are you—" the cat’s voice abruptly cut off as Miss Elysia lifted him off the chair, setting him down on the floor. Liora slid down from Miss Elysia’s arms, watching the scene with wide eyes.
"You’re the rewards! What are you doing here?" the cat exclaimed, his tail puffing up in surprise. Miss Elysia, however, was firm in her response.
"Stop the fight right now," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"What? I can’t!" the cat protested, scrambling to his feet. "Don’t you see how many excited viewers paid good money to see the fight today?" He looked up at Elysia, a mix of irritation and confusion in his expression. "And what are you doing out here anyway? You’re supposed to be in the holding area!"
"I am not some kind of reward that can be locked up," Miss Elysia retorted, her voice calm but edged with authority.
The cat blinked, his whiskers twitching as he processed her words. "Well, you didn’t look like any fighter sort of human, so I just put you there to keep you safe," he muttered, slightly defensive.
As they spoke, Liora’s attention was drawn to a bag sitting on a low table nearby. It was overflowing with dried leaves that had a distinct, slightly sweet smell, almost like mint but more pungent and earthy. The leaves were a deep green, with a hint of silver on the edges that caught the light. Intrigued, Liora leaned in closer, curious about the strange plant.
"Hey! Hands off, little girl!" the cat yelped, leaping from Miss Elysia’s arms and rushing over to the table to guard the bag. He puffed up even more, looking both protective and annoyed. "These are top-quality items! You could’ve ruined them!"
Liora backed away, a little startled by the cat's sudden change in demeanor. Miss Elysia sighed, watching the cat’s antics with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
After a moment, the cat seemed to calm down, realizing he wasn’t dealing with just any ordinary humans. He sighed dramatically, smoothing down his fur with a paw. "Alright, alright. You can stay here and watch the fight with me if you want," he grumbled. "Just don’t interrupt my work. And absolutely no touching the bag!"
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Down in the arena, Cedric was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. They had finally taken down the last of the contestants, but the exhaustion was setting in fast. Magnus, noticing Cedric’s state, walked over and grabbed him as he began to falter, helping him to stay upright.
“Hey, are you alright?” Magnus asked, concern etched on his face.
“I just need a breath,” Cedric replied, his voice strained. The three of them, battered and worn, sat down on one of the platforms to rest, even if just for a moment.
Magnus looked around, the sun blaring down on them mercilessly. After a minute of silence, he spoke up, his tone tinged with frustration. “He’s not letting us rest outside of this arena, is he?” He then explained to Cedric and Tristan about the hall full of rooms where contestants could prepare themselves. The idea of rest seemed distant now, with the sun beating down on them and the crowd’s noise still ringing in their ears.
As if on cue, the arena door creaked open again. The announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, filled with enthusiasm. “Demons and Monsters, the time has finally arrived. Our champion is here!”
Magnus’s blood began to boil as he watched the figure emerge from the gate. His eyes narrowed with recognition and anger. It was Floyd. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices merging into a deafening roar that made the ground beneath them shake slightly.
“FLOYD!” Magnus roared, his voice cutting through the noise. He turned to Cedric and Tristan, his expression determined.
“I’m taking him alone,” Magnus declared, his gaze locked on Floyd.
Tristan shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No, Magnus. That’s the champion. We shouldn’t underestimate him. We fight together.”
But Magnus was insistent, the anger simmering just beneath his calm facade. “I want to fight Floyd. This is my fight.”
Reluctantly, Tristan nodded, sensing the depth of Magnus’s resolve. Magnus stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he walked to face Floyd in the middle of the arena. The crowd’s cheers seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them standing in the sandy battlefield.
“Hello again, Magnus,” Floyd greeted him with a calm, almost friendly tone. “Looks like you’ve made it to the final round. Congratulations, friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Magnus spat, his grip tightening on his axe. He could feel his bracelet vibrating, the artifact reacting to Floyd’s presence.
“Can you feel it too?” Floyd asked, his voice smooth and composed. “The artifact is calling out to its brother. Are you sure you want to fight me? It seems like you could use your friends’ help.”
Magnus’s anger flared, his eyes burning with hatred. “I can kill you by myself. No, I WILL kill you for what you and Garrick did.”
“It was for a greater good, Magnus,” Floyd replied, his tone almost dismissive. “But let’s not waste any more time.”
The announcer’s voice rang out across the arena, signaling the start of the final round. “Let the final round begin!”
Floyd tapped on the pendant hanging around his neck, and suddenly, a magical armor began to form around him. The armor was sleek and menacing, glowing with an otherworldly light, it seemed to pulse with a mystical energy, covering his entire body in a protective, shimmering aura.
The arena buzzed with anticipation as Magnus and Floyd faced off, the crowd’s roars fading into the background as the two men locked eyes. Magnus’s grip tightened around his battle axe, the familiar weight of it grounding him in the midst of his boiling anger. Across from him, Floyd stood with an unsettling calmness, his magical armor shimmering faintly in the sunlight as he held his spear with a relaxed confidence.
Magnus’s vision tunneled, focusing solely on Floyd. He no longer saw the man he once knew—this was an enemy, an obstacle that needed to be destroyed. The years of betrayal, the pain of past wrongs, all boiled to the surface. He wouldn’t let Floyd get away this time.
Floyd’s voice cut through the tension, his tone infuriatingly serene. “Magnus, I see you’ve kept your strength. But brute force alone won’t be enough to defeat me.”
Magnus’s response was a roar of pure rage as he charged forward, his axe swinging in a powerful arc aimed at cleaving Floyd in two. Floyd sidestepped with a dancer’s grace, his spear flashing out to strike Magnus’s side. The blow connected, sending a jolt of pain through Magnus’s ribs, but he barely felt it through the haze of his anger.
“Fight me!” Magnus bellowed, swinging his axe again, this time with even more force. The blade sliced through the air, but Floyd’s magical armor absorbed the hit, sparks flying as the axe rebounded off the shimmering barrier.
Floyd didn’t even flinch. He countered with a rapid series of jabs, his spear moving so quickly it was almost a blur. Magnus blocked the first few strikes with his shield, but one caught him in the shoulder, driving him back a step. The pain was sharp, but it only fueled his anger.
“You’re holding back, Magnus,” Floyd observed, his tone almost mocking. “Is this really all you’ve got? I expected more.”
Magnus’s vision turned red as he let out another roar, charging at Floyd with reckless abandon. His axe came down in a brutal overhead swing, aiming to split Floyd’s head open. But Floyd was faster. He spun to the side, his spear sweeping out to catch Magnus in the back of the knee. The force of the blow made Magnus stagger, but he didn’t fall. He couldn’t afford to.
“Enough talking!” Magnus growled, turning on his heel and slashing at Floyd with wild abandon. Each swing was fueled by raw power, the ground beneath their feet cracking from the impact as Floyd deftly dodged and blocked. The crowd’s cheers echoed in Magnus’s ears, but he barely registered them. All that mattered was taking Floyd down.
Floyd’s calm demeanor never wavered, even as Magnus’s attacks grew more ferocious. “You’ve always relied too much on your strength,” Floyd remarked, deflecting another strike with his spear. “But strength without control is nothing.”
Magnus’s rage flared hotter at Floyd’s words. He launched into a relentless assault, his axe swinging in wide, powerful arcs that left no room for escape. But Floyd was like water, flowing around each attack, his spear flashing out to deliver precise strikes that chipped away at Magnus’s defenses.
A particularly vicious swing from Magnus’s axe forced Floyd to block with both hands, the impact sending a shockwave through the arena. The crowd gasped as Floyd was pushed back, his feet digging into the sand. Magnus pressed the advantage, raining down blow after blow, each one more forceful than the last.
But Floyd remained infuriatingly calm. With a deft twist of his spear, he caught Magnus’s axe and yanked it out of his grasp, sending it flying across the arena. Magnus stumbled, momentarily disarmed, but he didn’t falter. With a snarl, he threw his shield at Floyd like a discus, the heavy metal spinning through the air.
Floyd sidestepped the shield, but the momentary distraction was all Magnus needed. He barreled forward, tackling Floyd to the ground. The two men rolled in the sand, grappling for control. Magnus’s fists rained down on Floyd’s armor, each punch fueled by years of pent-up rage.
“Is this all you can do?” Floyd taunted, even as he struggled beneath Magnus’s assault. “You’re just a beast, lashing out in anger. No strategy, no thought—just brute force.”
Magnus let out a primal roar, grabbing Floyd by the collar of his armor and slamming him into the ground. The impact sent a shockwave through the arena, but Floyd’s armor held, the magical energy absorbing the brunt of the force. Magnus’s fists pounded against the armor, but it was like hitting a brick wall. Frustration built inside him, his anger blinding him to anything but the need to destroy the man beneath him.
With a surge of strength, Floyd kicked Magnus off, sending him sprawling onto the sand. Magnus scrambled to his feet, his eyes blazing with fury, but Floyd was already on the offensive. The spear lashed out, catching Magnus in the side and drawing a deep gash. Blood seeped through his armor, but Magnus barely felt it. All that mattered was the fight.
“You can’t beat me, Magnus,” Floyd said, his voice calm despite the intensity of the battle. “You never could.”
Magnus’s only response was a wordless growl as he charged again, his bare fists swinging with enough force to shatter bones. Floyd met him head-on, their weapons clashing in a flurry of sparks and ringing metal. The two men danced around each other, a deadly ballet of strength and skill, neither giving an inch.
But Magnus’s anger was getting the better of him. His attacks were powerful but wild, leaving openings that Floyd exploited with ruthless efficiency. Each strike from Floyd’s spear was precise, aimed at weakening Magnus bit by bit, chipping away at his strength until he could barely stand.
Magnus felt his strength ebbing, his muscles burning with exhaustion as he continued to press the attack. Floyd’s magical armor shimmered with each strike, absorbing the brunt of Magnus’s blows. Magnus wasn’t just relying on brute force anymore; he knew he needed to think beyond the raw power that had always defined him.
Floyd was breathing heavily, but his eyes remained sharp and focused. “You’ve grown stronger, Magnus,” he admitted, his voice a mixture of respect and disdain. “But strength alone isn’t enough.”
Magnus decided to gamble everything on one last move. Feigning another furious attack, he swung his axe down with all his might. As expected, Floyd raised his spear to block, but instead of pushing through, Magnus twisted his body at the last second, raising his shield and driving it against Floyd’s armor.
The moment the shield and armor collided, a powerful shockwave erupted between them, knocking both men back. Magnus felt a strange sensation in his shield, a surge of energy that wasn’t just his own. The shield hummed with power, reacting to the proximity of Floyd’s armor.
Floyd staggered, his calm demeanor cracking as he struggled to understand what had just happened. “What… what did you do?” he demanded, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Magnus didn’t answer. Instead, he focused on the energy within his shield, feeling it pulse in sync with Floyd’s armor. He realized that the artifacts were designed to work together. He had to find a way to turn this to his advantage.
Floyd, sensing the shift in the battle, launched a desperate attack, thrusting his spear forward with deadly precision. But Magnus was ready. He used the energy from his shield to parry the blow, redirecting the spear’s force back towards Floyd. The shockwave from their artifacts collided again, but this time, Magnus was prepared. He pushed the energy back into Floyd’s armor, overloading it with the combined power of both artifacts.
Floyd gasped as the armor around him began to glow, the magical protection flickering and then shattering like glass. The force of the backlash sent him stumbling, his spear dropping from his hands as he clutched at his chest.
Magnus didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, slamming his shield into Floyd with all his might. The moment the shield made contact with Floyd’s chest, the armor crumbled, releasing a burst of energy that knocked Floyd to the ground.
Breathing heavily, Magnus stood over Floyd, his shield at the ready. But Floyd didn’t reach for his weapon. Instead, he looked up at Magnus with a strange expression—part defiance, part resignation.
“So, Magnus,” Floyd said, his voice a rasp, “what do you feel now? Happy? Relieved? Or just… empty?”
Magnus hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He had dreamed of this moment for so long, the moment when he would finally take down the man who had betrayed him. But now, standing over Floyd, victory within his grasp, he wasn’t sure how he felt. The anger, the hatred—it was still there, but something else lurked beneath it. A hollowness he hadn’t expected.
“I don’t know” Magnus admitted quietly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
Floyd gave a weak chuckle, a sound that held no real humor. “That’s the thing about revenge,” he whispered. “It never fills the void.”
With those final words, Floyd’s body went still, his eyes losing their light. The armor that had once protected him crumbled to dust, its power extinguished.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the cheering crowd, “The big man strikes down the champion like a beast! Looks like we got a new champion today, Demons and Monsters!”
The crowd erupted into cheers, but to Magnus, it was all just noise. He stood there, staring down at the man he had finally defeated, but the victory felt hollow. He had won the fight, but at what cost?