The blows were bursts that slammed against their bodies again and again.
They weren't simple attacks, they were closed storms on living flesh. Each impact echoed in the arena like a dry thunder, making the entire coliseum vibrate.
Blood spread everywhere, splashing the ground dark red, mixing with the dust and forming irregular puddles that told the story of the fight better than any narrator.
Kairou breathed with difficulty.
Each inhalation was punishment, each exhalation a conscious effort.
His chest rose and fell irregularly, as if his lungs hesitated between keeping going or giving up once and for all. In front of him, Agnitus stood upright, solid, almost imperturbable.
He barely had one or two insignificant scratches, superficial marks that didn't do justice to the violence of the clash.
His posture remained firm, his gaze clear. He could keep fighting for hours, maybe days, without stopping, as if the very concept of fatigue had no place in his body.
With each received impact, Kairou's performance dropped.
His movements became slower, less precise. His reflexes no longer responded like at the beginning. Yet still, he didn't give up.
Something inside him refused to fall. His body, even though destroyed, showed an abnormally resistant density, as if every bone had been forged to endure more than humanly possible.
That caught Agnitus by surprise, who for the first time since the fight began slightly frowned.
—You're like a damn wall —he said, letting out an amused laugh, loaded with disbelief—. I hit, I hit… and you're still there.
Kairou didn't respond. Not because he didn't want to, but because he no longer could.
His lips were split, his jaw rigid from pain. Blood ran down his arms, sliding from his knuckles to his elbows.
His fists trembled, opening and closing involuntarily, as if his own body no longer obeyed orders, only basic impulses. Even so, he was still there. Standing. Wobbling, but not falling.
The crowd watched in an almost impossible silence.
No one shouted. No one celebrated. Everyone was trapped in the scene, unable to look away.
No one could believe that someone without talent, someone who didn't stand out for special skills or refined techniques, had managed to last five full minutes against Agnitus.
Five minutes that felt like an eternity. Five minutes that weighed like years.
Some spectators clenched their fists without realizing it.
Others held their breath. Even among the veteran fighters there were looks of respect.
Not for strength, but for stubbornness. For that absurd will to not fall.
Agnitus took a step back, watching him closely. He saw how Kairou's legs trembled.
How his shoulders were slumped. How every fiber of his body begged for rest.
And still, he stood. Not out of pride. Not for glory. Simply because he still didn't allow himself to surrender.
It was then that Agnitus understood that this was no longer a common fight. It was a test. And like every test, it had to end.
Without saying anything else, he charged at him again to finish that battle.
The air seemed to compress the instant he moved. His feet slammed the ground hard, propelling him forward with brutal speed.
His movements were clean, precise, without any waste.
The first blow landed in Kairou's abdomen. The sound was dry, deep.
The air escaped his lungs in a choked gasp. The second, third and fourth blows fell directly on his chest, one after another, like hammer strikes.
Each impact pushed his body back another centimeter. The last blow was to the face. Direct. Definitive.
Kairou's guard broke completely.
His body was thrown backward and crashed violently against the arena floor. Dust rose around him as he lay motionless, ending the round with victory firmly in Agnitus's hands.
For a few seconds, no one said anything.
—You're too resistant, kid —Agnitus finally said, lowering his arms—. That's why today you gave one of the best fights of your life.
Kairou lay on the ground, unconscious, his body covered in wounds, bruises and blood. And yet, a faint smile drew on his face. He hadn't won. But he had given everything he had. Nothing held back, nothing left untried.
For him, that was enough.
—Mmm… you know? —Agnitus continued, crossing his arms as the mages approached—. Today you're becoming my disciple. When all this is over, I'll train you and turn you into one of the best hand-to-hand warriors. You'll see.
The mages lifted Kairou carefully, wrapping him in healing spells as they carried him out of the arena. Agnitus watched them leave without saying anything else, with an expression different from before. It wasn't mockery. It wasn't superiority. It was recognition.
Immediately, the announcer grabbed the megaphone and caught the coliseum's attention, which remained in absolute silence, as if everyone woke up at the same time.
—Well, ladies and gentlemen, as you've seen, the winner of this match is the Sin of Wrath. A big round of applause!
The place exploded. Applause, shouts, cheers. The built-up tension released all at once.
Many were still trying to process what they had just witnessed. It hadn't been just a victory. It had been a demonstration of pure resistance.
—In a few seconds we'll begin the next battle, once the two pairs for the following round are decided.
As he said that, four stones appeared suspended in the air above the arena, spinning slowly, wrapped in magical glow. The crowd fell silent again, expectant, watching as destiny was decided at random.
The stones began to fall.
Two touched the ground first.
The man ran to check the papers and, after a few seconds, raised his gaze to the public.
—The next round will be between… the Sins of Sloth and Envy! And then, Pride against Gluttony!
The stands immediately regained their spark of excitement. The murmur turned into shouts, improvised bets and crossed comments.
Two completely different matchups were coming, and everyone knew it.
The arena was cleared quickly. The blood disappeared as if it had never been there.
The cracks in the ground closed. Magic restored every centimeter, leaving it impeccable, ready for the next fight.
The two enormous doors opened with a grave and heavy sound.
A man and a woman walked toward the center of the coliseum.
Sloth against Envy.
A completely different battle, not just because of the sins they represented, but because of the way they moved, breathed and looked at the world.
Dormius advanced with slow, almost dragging steps. He seemed not to want to be there.
He showed no tension in his body, no fire in his gaze. As if winning or losing was exactly the same to him.
Viridia, on the other hand, walked firmly. Her eyes were lit, full of desire for combat. Each of her steps transmitted intention. Hunger. Craving to prove something.
To thus begin another battle.