"Oh, do I love to fight beautiful won… Very will, it will be my joy and my pleasure, Wendigo! Don't think I didn't fight for my title myself!"
I leaned back a little, send forward a ntal projection, and prepared to watch with a grin that mirrored the Master of Sin's own. The only way this could've been better if he was a girl himself. Catfights were always entertaining. But what I was more curious about were the extents of the Master of Sin's ability. He didn't like to show it normally.
Apparently, all that was necessary to make him was a woman. Ha!
Well, it's not like I didn't understand. His excitent was contagious, and even though a mont ago I thought I was above that, now I felt a twinge of a desire to kick the Master of Sin out of the ring and fight Wendigo myself. But I held myself together.
I would train her, after all. We will have ti.
In the arena, Wendigo and the Master of Sin assud fighting stances. Despite their eagerness to attack, neither rushed in imdiately, both circling each other while searching for weaknesses and opportunities.
The Master of Sin had an advantage here. From watching the matches, he already knew that Wendigo's left knee was a little weak from being hit earlier, and that she was left-handed, but hid it from her opponents to strike with unexpected hand at unexpected ti.
For Wendigo, though, her opponent was a mystery, but she was going to bet that he grew unused to fighting for his life despite his eagerness to. She believed he was thinking with his lower head and, like with many n, that would be his downfall. Not entirely wrong, but as soone who read their both thoughts, I could say that it wasn't entirely right, either.
The Master of Sin attacked first—not because of the lost patience, but to provoke his opponent. He ca forward for a quick spire of his claws, narrowly missing Wendigo's head, and jumped back with a fluidness of a butterfly in flight.
Wendigo snarled back and tried to pay him with the sa coin, but she wasn't as fast on her feet. Before she could retreat, the Master of Sin's fist caught her in the raised arm. A trifle for Wendigo, but a sign that she chose the wrong tactic—so she changed it imdiately.
Instead of retreating and letting this exchange of blows to end up with her loss, Wendigo stayed in close quarters, throwing more swipes of claws and hits of fists at the Master of Sin.
Whenever he retreated a step to dodge, she took a step closer, pursuing him relentlessly and with zero regards for the slashes and bruises the Master of Sin left on her skin.
It wasn't long before he realised that, in a prolonged exchange, Wendigo would win. Her wide, muscular build absorbed damage better than his leaner one, and the natural advantage in muscle strength ant little after decades of being toughened or withered in Hell. What was unusual among humans was a common enough sight in hell—the demoness was bulkier than her dexterous demon opponent.
Finally, the Master of Sin escaped Wendigo's reach. His hands were longer than hers, which he used to give her a parting blow to a shoulder, but it didn't even them out entirely. While both fighters were now breathing heavily and sprouting an array of fresh claw marks and bruises, the Master of Sin was worse off.
Despite that, his morale was as high as ever. "Your hands are as powerful as I imagined," he said and licked a trail of blood off his forearm, looking Wendigo in the eyes all the while. "What they can do to a body… The images are so exciting."
Wendigo curved her upper lip in disgust. "You'd have to prove yourself stronger than you did until now to even dream about sothing like this."
Around them, the crowd cheered and hooted. So wanted to see the champion fall, while others wanted the sa for the Master of Sin. If not for the circle of sharp flarock shards around the arena and a pair of tough guards at the entrance, they'd be rushing in to help their side long ago. The fighting frenzy was contagious.
"You just gave even more motivation to win." The Master of Sin grinned at Wendigo and rushed in again. He was sure how to do that now.
Not planning to let him strike her and escape again, Wendigo raised her hands to grab him as soon as he attacked, but this was a feint. At the last mont, the Master of Sin changed his fist strike to a leg swipe, catching Wendigo's weakened leg just when she lost balance from her grab attempt.
She fell on the ground and imdiately tensed, intending to jump up or to bring her opponent down too, but it was too late by then. The Master of Sin used his swiftness to keep the initiative he got in his hands.
He wasn't above beating a downed opponent, and his kicks were precise and rciless, not letting Wendigo a chance to escape. One thing he couldn't do was pinning her down by the throat, as she protected her most vulnerable spots to the end, since doing anything else would be giving up—and even on the ground, Wendigo didn't plan to do that.
I kept watching, not interfering, wondering what the Master of Sin would do when he realised the sa.
With a frustrated frown, he stepped away from Wendigo. "You already lost. Give up."
She needed a few seconds to stand up and then swayed a little. I could feel her pain, but she didn't count her injuries. Instead, she roared in rage like an animal. "No! It's over when I say it's over!"
"I'm the master of the arena. I think I'm the one who decides these things here." The Master of Sin folded his arms on his chest, and sothing in his stance prevented Wendigo from jumping him that mont—even she didn't know what exactly.. "You lost."
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