When looking at the two fighters panting away below him, Kai couldn’t help but smirk.
And across the arena, Redford glanced up toward Kai’s seat, t his eyes, and gave the smallest of nods.
A challenge.
An invitation.
Or maybe both.
"Maybe he knows our role in this tournant. If we don’t fight in the semi-finals, I’ll have to win the tournant."
But Kai doubted that he, nor Redford, would be able to put up enough of a fight to beat Grim.
’I guess the status with the league isn’t extrely important for the future.’
With the arena floor unmarred and no injured fighters to escort from the stage, the anticipation of the crowd didn’t have a chance to dip. The announcer, energized by Redford’s crowd-pleasing performance, stepped forward again, voice magically amplified to ring out across the massive stadium like a clap of thunder.
"Alright, alright, my roaring lions of the Arena of Kings! No rest for the wicked, and no delay for the daring! We’re moving right into our final match of the day!"
The crowd stirred, buzzing with curiosity.
"Coming from the Northern Reaches, with speed that slices wind and a weapon that bends reality, we have the agile, the unpredictable, the lightning-fast whip-wielder—QUINN!"
A figure burst onto the arena stage, flicking her whip out as she strode forward, the coiled tal snaking around her arm with a hiss like a snake. Her light armor was a mix of enchanted cloth and reinforced leather, dyed deep blue with streaks of silver. Her hair, dyed violet, fluttered in the breeze as she twirled her whip once over her shoulder for flair. It humd with enchantnt—its tip glowing faintly with stored mana.
"Now that’s showmanship," Kai muttered, seated beside Vepice. She leaned forward in excitent.
The announcer didn’t pause long.
"And facing her, a juggernaut of strength, power, and a sword so large it needs its own governor and land title! Straight from the forges of the northern mountains, here to test his master’s sword, the unrelenting storm of steel—RURIIIIIK!"
The arena floor shook as Rurik stepped out, carrying a blade that looked more like a slab of sharpened steel than a sword. It was easily as long as he was tall, etched with faint red lines that pulsed with heat. His armor was thick, heavy plate—the kind ant to take a direct hit from a wyvern and walk away.
Kai leaned in slightly. "That sword... reminds of a few ani I used to watch. No way that thing is balanced."
"It doesn’t need to be balanced if he just crushes everything in his path," Vepice replied, eyes wide.
As Rurik reached the center of the arena, he jamd the massive sword into the ground beside him. The impact sent a tremor through the tiles.
The two combatants eyed each other. Quinn rolled her shoulders, the whip dancing between her fingers like it was alive. Rurik gave no banter, simply cracking his neck with a deep grunt.
The announcer raised their hands.
"Let the final fight of the day—BEGIN!"
Rurik didn’t waste ti. He heaved his massive sword in both hands and brought it down in a diagonal arc ant to cleave Quinn in two.
But she was already gone.
The blade tore up the ground and the crowd gasped.
A crack like a whip split the air as Quinn sidestepped, and her weapon lashed out, the magically-enhanced cord wrapping around Rurik’s wrist. She yanked. The leather and tal weave pulled taut—and the glowing magic at the tip flared.
Rurik snarled, yanked his arm back with brute strength, and nearly pulled her off her feet. But Quinn rolled with the montum, kicked off the ground, and used her movent to spin and lash out again—this ti striking the back of his hand, the whip vibrating with a concussive burst as if striking him multiple tis at once.
"Interesting," Kai said aloud. "She’s not trying to pierce his armor. She’s targeting his joints."
The fight continued, Rurik throwing massive, sweeping swings that forced Quinn to dance and dart. With each missed strike, her whip lashed out—always striking a wrist, elbow or shoulder. It was a flurry of fast, surgical strikes.
The crowd gasped when Quinn managed to vault herself into the air with a whip-assisted flip and struck down onto Rurik’s hand mid-swing, forcing him to drop his sword for the first ti.
He grunted, flexing his fingers—but the glowing whip had left angry red welts and burns on his knuckles. His fingers trembled. Still, Rurik wasn’t finished. He roared and threw a punch with his unard hand.
Quinn ducked low, swept his legs, and lashed the back of his knees—sending arcs of magic biting into the joints of his plate armor. Rurik stumbled, tried to recover—and that’s when she moved in for the finishing blows.
One whipstrike.
Two.
Three.
Each precisely aid at pressure points: the tendons of his wrist, the base of his thumb, the at of his palm. His hands trembled uncontrollably. When he finally reached for his greatsword again, he couldn’t close his fingers.
Rurik fell to his knees, panting. His arms dropped to his sides like dead weights.
The announcer’s voice rang out like a bell tower chi.
"And that’s it! Rurik can no longer wield his blade! The winner—QUINN!"
The audience erupted—more than they had for Redford, even. The acrobatic grace, the clever tactics—it was the kind of fight that inspired applause from even the hardest veterans.
Kai clapped slowly, arms crossed, eyes thoughtful. "Fighting her wouldn’t be too difficult. I’m not sure her whip could get through my barriers. If Grim gets her, she’ll be obliterated."
"But she’s amazing," Vepice whispered, fanning herself with the noble fan she’d won the day before.
As Quinn gave a theatrical bow and the announcer’s voice promised more action in the coming days, Kai sat back in his seat, his gaze flicking to the darkening sky overhead.
Only two fights remained. Four fighters.
Tomorrow, the semifinals would begin.
"Let’s go, Vepice. I want to rest up before tomorrow."
"More food?" She asked.
"Sure."
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