Emerging from the entrance of the stands, the cohort could feel their ears almost burst as the chatter around them became even more nauseating and painful to the ears.
Making way, they sauntered around idle audience members, making sure they didn't disturb them and their sluggish ways. Grace felt a few stares—not knowing if they were because of his looks or because they recognized him and his family name.
Or both.
Another moment and they found a few seats that were free for them to take. Of course, they took advantage of this and quickly claimed them before anyone could think of taking them.
Settling comfortably, their eyes swiveled around, taking in everything that was occurring around them quietly before they engaged in their own conversation.
The arena field was like a proper battle environment. The faint traces of grass around the edges of the arena that slowly dwindled, revealing the dirt at the center—it was like the thinning hair of a middle-aged man.
From one of the dark tunnels, a person eventually emerged; it was a tall man who had a tuxedo tightly clinging to his frame.
In his hand was a microphone.
"Good morning, everyone," he spoke into the mic, his voice booming. "Welcome to the annual tournament brought to you by Mayor Letchler!"
The crowd roared like lions.
Grace almost found it odd—the winner was so obviously going to be Elis if nothing abnormal happens like him getting injured or if another person was able to rival his strength.
Upsets happen, I guess. Grace thought.
Tournaments such as these were essentially play-offs within sports. Because of this uncanny similarity, upsets were a natural byproduct fueled due to the innate competitive of a person, their psyche, and randomness of match-ups allowing for there to be more stark statistical performances.
This was especially true in this instance—each match was single elimination, meaning it was either win now or drown a loser.
However, a duel between people of fantasy was different than that of many traditional sports that existed in Grace's previous life.
It is far more difficult for a person in this world to perform beyond their mean. This was also why he so readily agreed with Miller's plan of betting on Elis.
There was the possibility of there being an outlier performance today.
But that possibility closer to being zero than it to be something that made Grace worry.
Tuning back to the announcer, he heard the two first combatants.
"AGATHA THORNE VS ELIS FAY."
~~~
Elis came out of the tunnel.
Clad in chainmail, the light above magnified his dirty-blond hair, creating this ephemeral glow that made his hair seem like dazzling gold. Settling back to his regular color, Elis stood silently as his opponent arrived before him.
A lady — who seemed to be of similar age to Elis — with a fine rapier sheathed to her hip. Her hair — navy-blue — drew down, stopping half-way along her back. Her eyes were a crude gray, and they softly pierced the air. And she wore her own set of minor chainmail that clad the top-half of her torso.
"START!"
The referee that stood between them backed away once he swung his arm down for them to start.
Elis smiled softly.
"It is nice to meet you again, Agatha."
SWOOSH!
However, Agatha spoke no words. The rapier that once was sheathed to the side of her hip had disappeared, now sauntering forward. As the needle punctured the atmosphere, it began to be clad in a thin coat of water.
Elis' smiled dropped.
The true length of the rapier failed to reach him, but a thrust of water expelled at the tip of the needle, traversing in a straight line. However, as quickly as Agatha drew her rapier, Elis drew his mighty axe a hair's breadth faster.
A supercilious glow permeated along the surface metal of the axe. He planted it right in front of his face, shielding him. Then, bracing his body, he allowed the line of water to drill onto the surface of the axe.
Scrape!
Pushed back, the dirt on the ground became disheveled. Deflecting the strike of water away, Elis hauled himself to the left, a trail of water passing by. Leaping into the air, Elis drove his axe upward, a wave of yellow light exiting the edge of the blade.
Agatha clicked her tongue. She tugged her body to the side violently, narrowly avoiding the ravages of Elis' light magic. Pushing onward, Agatha drew her free-hand up, lifting it as spikes of water began to rise from the dirt.
Elis reeled his axe back.
BOOM!
From within the axe, the light that permeated expanded out of it, becoming a tight — but also brief — explosion that warded the spikes of water from coming into contact with him.
Debris flew, obscuring Agatha's vision.
Elis began to move.
Elis became a mere vestige in the midst of the debris and smoke. Agatha's face tugged into uncertainty, her eyes flailing around in order to catch Elis before it was too late.
"Bastard," Agatha muttered. "Two can play that game." She kneeled down quickly, pressing her hand onto the disheveled dirt.
Swirl!
Water began to circulate all around, tearing down the curtain of debris and smoke, and revealing Elis' whereabouts; he soared down from above, his axe glistening mightily underneath the profuse luster of the lights above.
Agatha backed away, the ground rupturing once Elis landed at the spot where she was at before. But the two did not settle—they embraced the urge to battle, marching down the endless debris that flailed, and drew closer to the point they could hear each other's hearts beating.
Elis swung his axe up.
Agatha leaned back, spun around and drove the tip of her rapier into the side of the shining axe. Elis widened his eyes, his body tugged to the side. Agatha smirked, spinning around in the opposite direction and injecting the sole of her foot into Elis' chest.
Pushed back, Elis saw Agatha advance monstrously.
"You got better," Elis murmured, pulling his body back before he ducked to the side. Agatha reeled her arm, then thrusted the rapier forward. Elis, though, kept calm. As blood slipped from the edge of his mouth, Elis slipped forward and directed his body to Agatha's right.
For a moment, Agatha saw Elis' eyes emit a hungry glint. Unable to turn around quick enough to dish out a counterattack, Elis was able to cleanly lift his leg, bend his knee, and drive down his foot into the back of Agatha's knee.
AGHHH!
A simple yell echoed in her mind as he was forced to let one knee drop down to the ground. Attaching his axe to his back, Elis dove his torso down, his right hand clasping onto Agatha's head.
"But there was no need to enter this tournament again, Agatha."
SMASH!
He pushed her head into the ground violently.
"Whether it is back then and now... my victory is all the same."