Phil's voice bellowed across the Colosseum, his gravelly tone commanding imdiate attention. "Alright folks! For our next match in the Beginner's Cup—on the left, our fiery newcor with grit to spare, Helga Sinclair! And on the right, hailing from the old isles, the enchantress of beauty and power herself—Circe!"
The crowd roared, the very stone trembling beneath their feet. Helga rolled her shoulders, spear gripped tightly in her hands. Across the arena, Circe stood resplendent, her robe shimring violet with gold trim, her long hair styled perfectly, her posture like that of a queen who never doubted victory. She smirked at the cheering masses, lifting one hand in a regal wave as if she'd already won.
"Do try not to embarrass yourself," Circe called out, her voice carrying unnaturally across the stadium. "It would ruin my fun if you collapsed too quickly."
Helga spat to the side. "Lady, I've fought n twice your size and aner than you. You're just another opponent."
"Another?" Circe scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Darling, I'm the only one that matters."
The gong sounded.
Helga lunged first, spear sweeping low then high. Circe flicked her hand and a Reflect barrier shimred to life, deflecting the strike with a sharp burst of energy that rattled Helga's arms. The enchantress retaliated imdiately, a blast of fire bursting from her palm. Helga twisted, the flas licking her side, singing her jacket but failing to catch.
Helga pressed again, jabbing with precision. Circe countered with ice shards, jagged and fast. Helga batted two aside with the spear's shaft but caught the third in her thigh, a hot line of pain drawing a hiss between her teeth. She pushed forward anyway, slamming her shoulder into Circe's barrier. It cracked, flaring, but did not break.
The crowd gasped, voices echoing. Circe raised her chin proudly. "Bold, but foolish."
Helga backed up, feinting left before hurling her spear like a javelin. Circe sidestepped with a laugh, conjuring a gust of wind that hurled the weapon to the far side of the arena. Helga cursed and imdiately closed the gap barehanded.
She surged in with a flurry of Krav Maga strikes—elbows, knees, short punches ant to crush bone. Circe's eyes widened briefly before snapping her wrist, conjuring another Reflect barrier just in ti. Helga's elbow smashed against it, jarring her whole arm, but she used the rebound to spin and drive a heel into the barrier's surface, sending ripples through the magic.
"Ugh!" Circe sneered, dismissing the shield. She answered with a point-blank Thundaga, lightning snapping down onto Helga's shoulder. The blonde soldier scread but twisted with the blow, turning her collapse into a roll that brought her back to her feet. Smoke curled from her singed skin, and the crowd shouted in awe.
"You'll need to do better than that!" Helga shouted hoarsely.
Circe's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Gladly."
The air thickened. Circe raised both hands, weaving fire and ice together. Twin blasts roared forth, colliding into a swirling storm of steam and molten shards. Helga ducked low, weaving through the barrage, but each step cost her—cuts blood along her arms, her cheek burned, her body battered. She burst through the storm with a roar and caught Circe's wrist in a brutal lock, twisting sharply. Circe yelped, stunned, and Helga drove her knee into the sorceress's side.
The crowd erupted, half in disbelief. Circe snarled, her perfect composure cracking. With a scream, she unleashed a violent Aero spell. The wind burst like a cyclone, flinging Helga across the stage. She hit the ground hard, tumbling, blood saring across the stone.
Still, she rose.
Every muscle scread, her vision blurred, but she rose. The crowd, stunned, slowly began to cheer, stomping their feet at her defiance.
Helga stumbled forward, fists raised. Circe straightened her robes, her hair still flawless despite the chaos, and her sneer returned. "How uncouth. Did you really think your brutish little strikes would undo ?"
Helga charged, weaving inside a volley of thunderbolts. She ducked one, rolled past another, and slamd her fist into Circe's stomach. The enchantress staggered back, gasping, but her fury ignited instantly. She slamd both palms into the ground, releasing a wave of Slow magic.
Helga felt it imdiately—her limbs dragged, her movents heavy, her body sluggish as if swimming through tar. Circe laughed, circling her prey. "You're finished. No soldier can fight without speed."
But Helga's eyes narrowed. She let Circe move close, then pivoted suddenly, catching the sorceress in a hip toss that sent her sprawling. The crowd roared in delight as Circe hit the ground with a shriek. Helga dove in, raining blows—elbows, fists, knees, each strike trained to break joints and smash ribs.
For a mont, it looked like Helga might turn it around.
Circe screeched, her body flashing with another Reflect. The barrier exploded outward, blasting Helga back in a spray of blood. Before Helga could recover, Circe's hands flared with energy—fire, lightning, wind, and ice all rging into one devastating storm.
The crowd gasped as the spell erupted. Helga's battered fra staggered against the onslaught, her arms crossed to shield her face, but she couldn't endure it. With a final shriek, Circe unleashed the cyclone's force, and Helga's body was hurled backward, off the stage.
She hit the dirt below with a thud, unmoving.
Phil rushed forward, his voice booming above the silence. "Winner—Circe!"
The crowd erupted, cheers and boos mixing, so crying out for Helga's courage, others praising Circe's dazzling magic. Circe stood tall at the stage's center, brushing invisible dust from her robes, her smile as flawless as when she entered.
She looked down at Helga's crumpled form, then tossed her hair back with a haughty laugh. "Pathetic. I expected more. Next ti, darling, don't waste my ti."
The crowd's noise swelled again—so furious, so enthralled—as healers rushed to Helga's side. Bruised, bleeding, but alive, she was lifted gently away.
And above it all, Circe preened like a goddess, basking in her victory.
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