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“BEGIN!”

Taking a calming breath and momentarily looking away from the match, Hurman took the small scroll attached to the hawk’s leg. He first read it to himself while the others kept quiet, then sighed, “Afterward...”

The bird nodded in response but didn’t leave. It remained perched on Hurman’s shoulder as the patriarch returned his attention to the fight. But the hawk did take the scroll in its beak before turning to Reginol, who quickly bowed his head and read the paper in turn.

“Afterward would be best...”

Getting a similar answer, the hawk nodded again and looked back to the fight while occasionally scanning over those from the Libarn Guild and Practor Family.

*****

.....

“BEGIN!”

Oli hadn’t yet created a hammer but his stance showed his confidence. He was ready to move and react to whatever the crafty swordsman had up his sleeve.

Taking out the sword, the masked contestant dove forward with a plume of water rushing out. Like a small geyser, the water sprayed out with ferocity and crashed directly into Oli’s chest.

However, Oli remained unmoved as he leaned forward and covered himself in his bestial essence armor.

Not letting up, the swordsman made sure to not lose his pace.

“Who was your master? Hurman? Jonon?” Oli asked out loud as he sidestepped the next barrage of sword strikes. “Was it Lyle, maybe?”

As expected, the masked combatant remained silent, letting the sword do all the talking necessary. The blade picked up pace as the swordsman displayed a classic Practor art, Revolving Frost. Jagged bits of ice swirled wildly around the blade, some even dislodging themselves with each swing in an attempt at making a long-range sword attack.

But Oli wasn’t done thinking out loud. “Hmm... No... You’re one of Mertin’s secret pupils.”

The swordsman picked up the pace yet again, subtly admitting to the claim out of reflex.

“But you don’t act like someone from Libarn... And your swordsmanship is too close to his to be a fast knock-off like the others were...”

Finally, Oli’s footing slowed as he began to near the platform’s edge. This was exploited immediately as the swordsman struck down at Oli, who created a hammer to defend. Yet he didn’t block the strike. Instead, Oli smashed the hammer down into the ground, stopping the surprise attack of a rushing icicle. Oli then tanked the sword attack by stepping closer and letting it crash into the thickest part of his armor, the shoulder. At the same time, Oli drilled his fist into the swordsman’s chest without a word.

A tiny slit appeared on Oli’s shoulder as his essence rebuilt his armor but the swordsman coughed violently as he skidded across the platform. The mask was shaken loose but kept hold of the swordsman’s face. However, the mask was no longer enough to hide the truth from Oli.

“You’re... a girl?”

“WHAT?! What’s this?!” The announcer shouted Oli’s sudden question for all to hear, “Our masked contestant isn’t a man, but a woman in disguise?!”

Not stopping the fight, the masked contestant charged again while Oli still had a questioning expression on his face. The watery blade arched across the stage and extended its reach via ice to reach Oli all the quicker.

But Oli then blinked and looked the contestant straight in the eyes. “Melinda?”

Despite his confusion, Oli wouldn’t leave himself wide open. The icy sword crashed into Oli’s hammer as he asked, “Melinda? Please... If you’re Melinda, please forfeit.”

Lashing out in response, the masked contestant attacked again with a straightforward sword strike and a sudden jutting icicle from behind. But as Oli moved to block one icicle, two faster icicles took form and rocketed toward Oli’s torso from both sides.

“Roooaar!!”

Echoing throughout the arena, Oli’s jarring cry sounded out as his hammer dissipated and a wall of earth burst from the ground. The wall surrounded Oli’s sides and rear, slowing or stopping the icicles entirely. His arm was lifted to block the sword, getting cut while he gripped the swordsman’s wrist. The arm no longer holding the hammer reached for the mask adorning the swordsman’s face, forcing the truth to come to light.

“Melinda...” Oli sighed, disregarding the blood trickling down his left arm.

The fury and passion in Melinda’s eyes startled Oli, seemingly growing every time Oli tanked one of her blows. It was stronger than ever as she took out a second sword, one much more familiar to Oli and the crowd.

But Oli lifted his leg and kicked her arm as the cerulean sword was retrieved. Pinning her to the ground, Oli held one arm and stood on another while shaking his head. “Melinda, give up.”

“No... I won’t–”

“There’s nothing you can do to beat me, otherwise your grandpa would’ve chosen you and not me,” stated Oli. “If this is for your father’s sake, then you won’t need to–”

“Shut up and let me fight!”

“It’s over...” Oli looked up at the ref. “Isn’t there something you’re supposed to do right now? Maybe a countdown? Or at least call the match?”

The ref shrugged. “I–”

“It’s not over!”

Ice coated Melinda’s foot as she kicked it up at Oli, letting her other foot get a firm footing on the ground for additional leverage.

Unfazed, apart from the sad look on his face, Oli changed his stance. Dropping his knee, Oli placed his shin atop one of Melinda’s arms. Oli also lowered himself more to gain a better grip on her other arm, curling it back to lock it in place. He let the icy kick land on his side, but only as he used the kick to gain a grip on her leg, effectively pinning her and rendering her immobile with a twist of her grappled leg.

“Are you going to call it or not?” Oli spat, eyeing the ref.