Stopping at Nafız's warning, Jashua didn't take his eyes off the battlefield. Ralf was strong, but the situation he was in was reminiscent of a cat playing with a mouse. Perhaps exactly for this reason, Jashua stepped forward; although young, his battle experience had pushed him forward.
"He needs to learn by living; look at his eyes. That jerk called Ralf is exactly someone like this!"
It wasn't clear whether he was praising or cursing, but the lead actor's situation didn't look good at all. Ralf, attacking without holding back his power, was getting tired moment by moment with the effect of swinging into the void each time, while the five, expending little effort even though they constantly fled, could preserve their power.
Ralf, trying the two features of his new weapon, got no results. The five, having seen his skill once, were taking a stance accordingly. In response to his momentary disappearance, they never took the attacks alone. When Ralf sent blood energy through the cracks, they immediately moved away.
When half an hour passed, the sweat pouring from the rough-bearded man's face was falling to the ground drop by drop. Signs of exhaustion had begun; despite this, the five in defense stance didn't break their composure.
"Their target is not Ralf!"
Jashua spoke clenching his right fist. How could he not understand the trick being played.
"Of course not. In fact, they have no plan to win either; their only goal is to weaken us as much as possible. Until one of us goes there, they won't show their true strength!"
Looking at the ranking and the course of the fights, it was possible to understand the setup; although the public might succumb to their excitement and jump in, everyone else was aware of what was happening. The situation Ralf fell into must not have pleased the Second Elder that he also opened his mouth after a long time.
"How interesting the struggles are this year. Especially the team formed by the five clan representatives faced very tough opponents!"
The Second snapped like an angry child looking for a fight but talking to find an excuse. Unlike him, the skinny man was very calm.
"It's completely a matter of power; since the clan representatives are very strong, it is normal for it to look like this!"
"Nonsense. Among those fatted lambs, there isn't even one warrior on Ralf's level!"
"Is that so? The battlefield seems to belie what you are saying!"
Ralf's control was thoroughly lost. He started attacking completely disregarding defense, and an opportunity to attack arose for the five who had been defending until that moment. First one, then two, before ten minutes passed, more than two hands' fingers' worth of wounds formed on Ralf's body.
The rough-bearded man didn't stop; he continued his attacks. It was visible to the naked eye that the power in his blows had dropped, and the number of wounds he received had doubled. He gripped his weapon tightly and executed a huge swing; his enemies fled in five different directions. Ralf, immediately after, fell to one knee; he could maintain his balance by leaning on his sword he stuck into the ground.
"Are we going to wait longer?"
Jashua asked the first question coming to his mind turning to the red-haired girl next to him.
"Should we wait?"
Jashua, receiving a question as an answer to his question, froze, but the five on the battlefield launched an attack towards their opponent they brought to his knees.
"Their friend is going to die; why don't they help?"
The girl who was Ralf's fan shouted; as those around her accompanied her, breaths were held, the warrior whose body was covered in blood was about to die.
"How much time has passed?"
Ralf, murmuring while what leaked from his blood-dripping mouth prevented his tongue from turning, couldn't hear his voice in his ringing ears.
"How much time has passed since I was humiliated in the arena?"
This time the voice echoed only in his brain; the only person who could give the answer he sought was himself.
"Get up!"
When the command resembling a hiss came, the enemy's weapon appeared a span above his head. His right arm involuntarily grasped the weapon, and after blocking the attack, he turned a full circle around his own axis. The five who were about to come down on him flew back; although they took no injuries, the expressions on their faces were not pleasant at all.
"Give your blood, take my power!"
The cold and slippery voice appeared in his mind once again. Ralf didn't wait even a second to follow the command. Along with the blood leaking from his body, he also sprayed what accumulated in his mouth onto the Basilisk.
The weapon with the snake relief on its hilt was taking a blood bath, but this wasn't enough. Its tail gently extended and entered his body through Ralf's wrist. This wasn't the only change experienced on the weapon. Small protrusions resembling snake fangs appeared on its sharp edges. The weapon and the man were becoming completely one.
"What is happening?"
"Look at his eyes!"
The public was dumbstruck in astonishment. As for the Clan and Fiefdom region, questions chased each other.
"Where did his pupil disappear to?"
"Is there only a single line, or does it seem so to me?"
Ralf's eyes changed shape. Vertical pupils unique to predators, allowing them to focus on their prey, emerged.
The Basilisk was vibrating; it had a state as if saying attack to its owner. The short-haired hulking man must have heard this too that he lunged forward; a breath later he was in front of the two people holding shields.
His speed had increased so much that the trace left from his afterimages could still be seen; it was like the movements of a snake attacking its prey. Although the duo taking refuge behind their shields noticed him at the last moment, they took their precautions, or they thought they did.
Ralf, lifting his feet off the ground, came down on them with all his might; the giant square shield tore like paper. Two painful cries rose, and the sound suddenly ceased. The sword was on them, and the fangs on the edges of the cutting part were in their bodies.
The duo holding shields were hulking men. When Ralf pulled his sword back, they had turned into skinny corpses. When the remaining three people saw the fate of their friends, they started to run away. The team, which evidently wouldn't step onto the battlefield without analyzing the enemy, panicked in the face of this variable.
Ralf, satiating the Basilisk, moved towards the first opponent he set his eyes on. The trio, letting their battle experience speak, immediately turned their faces to him.
Another scream rose. The back of the woman dropping the dagger in her hand to the ground split from top to bottom. By the time she turned her face to the enemy, Ralf had already moved behind her. Without stopping there, he accelerated to the other. Before the image of Ralf coming towards the woman faded, he pruned the legs of the other.
Just as the single remaining enemy was taking his last step that would take him away from the battlefield, the Basilisk entered through his back and came out of his chest. While Ralf's breath was on his neck, the surroundings of the sword began to dry. Before five breaths passed, another skinny corpse fell to the ground; it fell apart so much that there was not even a need to pull the sword back.
If you added it all up, the battle ended before twenty breaths passed. From the moment he fell to his knees until he delivered the last blow, exactly this much time passed.
"This is it! Since blood is going to flow, it must flow like this!"
The Sheikh shouted scattering the wine in his glass; the faces of the two women sitting on his right and left were painted red.
"Brutality!"
"Barbarity!"
"It cannot go unpunished; this brutality cannot go unpunished!"
Cracked voices rose from the Clan and Fiefdom stands; they were taking courage from the Sheikh being drunk.
"Shut your mouths!"
The Second Elder stood up and shouted to the people under his supervision. The pillars carrying the platforms trembled. While the Clan Leaders stood tall, those next to them were hurled. As for those in the Fiefdom area below them, they had piled on top of each other.
When the Second Elder sat back in his place, the voices ceased; clan officials entered the battlefield to intervene with the wounded.
"You are not needed; we will take care of our friend!"
Nafız appeared in front of the men approaching Ralf and spoke rolling her eyes.
"Know your place! If we don't intervene, your friend will die!"
Nafız started to laugh; her voice became shriller at every moment.
"You know your place actually, grave-robbing brat!"
Her gazes were dull; the officials went to the others without being able to insist. Ralf, panting, lifted his head; he was smiling at Nafız and Jashua standing over him.