Zog raised his fist looking toward the enchanted crystal.

He was in the top right booth. Watching, waiting, judging. That man probably wanted to go first, but Zog didn't mind the opportunity to show off. If it helped convince him to fight Zog faster, all the better.

For all that he pushed Zog away, Cyrus couldn't hide from him. He saw the thrill of battle fill his body all the same, like a true adventurer, like himself. That man wouldn't rest easy. Fighting called to his heart. An adversary like him would seek to improve. Never resting, always marching forward!

Zog lowered his arm and marched into his corner. Red for red, how fitting. As he stopped at the center of his area, he examined his competition. He didn't expect a serious fight but he never knew, there could always be a hidden treasure hiding amongst the ash.

Sadly, as he catalogued his opponents, his hopes for a decent fight dwindled. In the blue corner, an elven woman glared at the rest of them, hiding behind a large sword.

Another useless tool. One's body was their best weapon but strangely not everyone agreed. Zog thought they were misguided.

In the yellow corner, a human man tried his best to look unbothered but was failing miserably. Zog could see it. He gripped his staff and stood with a casual air while turning his nose at the competition, but he failed to hide the tension in his shoulders. His colorful robe looked familiar but not enough for Zog to remember his affinity.

He shrugged. For the best that he didn't know. Having a level of unpredictability made for fun fights. The caster had noodles for arms and long thin fingers, poor physique for punching so he'd use him for showing off his mobility.

Mordred-Cyrus hadn't struck him as someone with movement skills, but that meant nothing if he could keep transforming. Knowing how bored he must be during the fights, and how weak these Solunarians are…

He's holding back. Something delicious is waiting for me. I need to draw him out, call to his nature. He'll fight me, and he'll fight me head-on like a true warrior!

He shook his head and reined in the mana crawling through his veins. Focus, he needed to focus. His nature was taking over too often, discarding his sanity with it.

Focus. Observe the blades pointed your way.

The last opponent, now there was someone who drew his eye. He stood entirely still, unmoving like a statue. If it weren't for the subtle rise of his chest, he'd have figured the man was a statue, or perhaps a gayrngrowl–those creatures looked human enough to pass off as one.

Unlike the others, his form was muscular but slimmed down. He had a good physique paired with adequate long limbs and none of the bluffing of the other two. No, the man's eyes were steel–nothing like the brittle iron of the other two.

Zog licked his lips.

He had to be a noble. Another honored heir from some clan. Judging by the way his leather armor shined in his sight, it wasn't a small clan either. For all that this kingdom had wealth beyond some of the southern states of his home continent, they weren't well equipped magically. Those who held enchanted items did so piecemeal, drawn from adventuring and made for the true elites of the kingdom.

Zog couldn't see the enchanted runework woven into the stitch but his body glowed a bright amber. From chestpiece to his pants down to his boots and across his arms, the noble held uniformed enchanted gear beyond the usual.

In comparison the caster and the elven warrior held a single dull orange surrounding their weapons, with the caster showing a muted brown beneath his left pant leg.

Most likely a device with a single charge, barely strong enough to help protect him as a last-ditch effort. Nothing to worry about.

They looked nothing like him… They were embers, a spark of a flame in comparison. Oh they were nothing like Cyrus.

That beautiful sun hidden behind a black sheet of reality that blocked even his sight. It didn't matter if he had a skill trained from the day he awakened. It didn't matter that he had a perk that boosted his senses, allowing him to pierce the veil that hid one's soul.

His mask kept it hidden, but for a single moment, during the apex of the felkin's fury he had seen a glimpse. A blinding corona had suffused his limbs, dwarfing everything he's ever seen except one other.

It drove him mad, turning even the pull of his Chaotic Resonance into a mere suggestion by comparison. It took everything he had to master himself, to pull his instincts back into their cage and bind them tight. Desperately, he wanted to fight him inside his home during that first meeting. His blood had thundered in his ears, drowning out the world, however; Zog realized that doing so would have done the exact opposite of what he wanted.

So he bided his time, continued with the farce of a competition and attempted to draw the felkin's eye once more. Then he saw it. That glorious abyss hidden inside his soul that fought the sun for supremacy.

The rats of the noble clans thought they had Cyrus cornered. Their blades pointed at his limbs while they sneered in false victory. Oh, did he show them his potential. By releasing a mere facet of his abilities he turned the arena into a tidal wave of fire and destruction. An ocean of transcendent red!

Now more than ever, more than anything in decades; a single desire drown out his thoughts.

Oh it'll be glorious. Blood for blood. Flames to ash, skill for skill! We will-

"FOCUS!" boomed a voice inside his head.

Zog blinked and came back to himself. The echoes of the familiar voice drifted away like flecks of ash on the wind. It had been enough, and he turned to see that he had missed the starting bell.

Already the caster and the noble were squaring off, unleashing skills against each other. Bolts of spinning stone clashed with a bubble of thin white mana. When they touched, the rock accelerated and zipped away, torn from its path and into the sand where it harmlessly embedded itself.

It would have been interesting to dissect the skill and figure out its inner workings, but the third opponent had a different idea.

The elven warrior rushed at him in a jarring leap, rather than aim for the tower while the other two fought, she launched across the sand in wide gallops with her sword raised high. Green light bloomed across her blade, leaving a trailing verdant streak behind as she flew.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Zog scowled at the lack of form and backflipped out of the way. Her blade sank into the sand, exploding with a flume of yellow powder. Where the powder landed, green moss sprouted.

To the woman's credit, she activated another skill, accelerating her kick. To block or go for something flashy, it was a matter of what would look enticing.

He needed to draw out the felkin's interest, so there was only one option.

Both.

He raised his leg and matched the kick with one of his own. Their shins met, boiled leather and metal plate versus toned flesh. The elf recoiled in pain and stumbled in place. Zog's grin flashed across her vision as he stepped in, hooking his leg around her neck.

She rushed to activate a defensive skill, something meek and orange to his sight, but he wasn't finished. His calf squeezed her face, crushing her windpipe between the meat of his leg. Before she could slash at his opened side, he leaned forward, carrying her into the air as he stood on his hands.

Now for the showy part.

With a single blast of Flameking's Strike, he punched the ground and released a narrowed torrent of fire. It carried him and the elf into the air. She scrambled with a sharp yelp unbefitting of a warrior and he rolled her out of his grip.

Another burst of his skill carried them further toward the pillar and he slammed his foot into her chest. The elf's eyes widened in fright and released another startled screech before his second foot smashed into her nose.

Zog activated Helldiver's Chariot and flames erupted from his legs. In a crushing nova of fire, his feet slammed the elf into the pillar. The unmistakable crunch of bones vibrated underneath and he flipped onto the stone monolith.

The elf started to fall but he grabbed her by the throat and started charging upward. Flicker activation of his skill brought them to the top and he swung the elf forward, readying a punch.

Oops. What warrior doesn't strengthen their body? Bah, another idiot.

The fighter hung limp in his grip. Disgust filled him but he shook it off and looked down. The once white circle around the pillar turned dark red. The two other fighters paused their feud to stare.

"And we have our first ruler on the throne! In a bloody display of absolute brutality, the Flamefist has shown that not only his hands are the weapons to watch out for! Will he keep the throne and secure himself as the sole monarch or will the other fighters claim the spot at the top for themselves?!" the announcer shouted from above.

While the two stared at Zog and each other awkwardly, he examined their fight. The caster had two cuts along his side, minor with only a single scratch to show against his leg. Two stone arrows floated in the air beside his shoulders aimed at the noble.

The noble hadn't moved from his starting position, maintaining his statue-like performance. The bubble of light around his body folded into itself, turned jagged before splitting into two halves. One triangular wedge aimed for Zog's chest while the second floated lazily toward the caster.

"Adventurer. You cannot beat me and the barbarian is gaining points as we speak. Name your price, and you'll have it," the noble spoke. His voice held a slight distortion, warping the consonants. He lazily glanced at the caster and raised his chin. "Within reason."

The caster licked his lips. For a moment, Zog hoped he would show some backbone rather than expose his belly and grovel to the silverborn, but it was too much. Like a good dog, he lowered his hand and the spinning stones changed directions, aiming upward toward Zog.

"A sponsorship to tier two, and two skillstones of the earth variety. You'll have my support as I doubt I could win this tournament. Not with the monstrous beastkin still around," the caster said.

The noble nodded. "Smart choice. Stay out of my way. When I knock the brute off the throne, help keep him down. Do this and you'll have your first pick of a higher quality stone from my personal vault."

No more words were exchanged. Skills started to activate, the mana shifting ever so slightly toward amber for the caster while the noble's fingers slipped into a haze of dim yellow.

Zog snorted. A smart decision to know when to retreat. The lack of a spine disgusted him, but he could appreciate when someone knew when to grab an opportunity – when it showed up. Maybe there was hope for the caster.

As for the noble, his skill looked interesting but there hadn't been anything to grab his attention. Oh well, either way they would be used to further bait his true target. He'd extract a use out of them whether they wanted to cooperate or not.

"Barbarian. I'll give you one chance. Remove yourself willingly and I will spare you-"

The two wedges slammed together. They barely intercepted the fleshy missile as they cracked and bent inward. The noble stumbled and caught himself, his skill coming apart as motes of light that scattered into the air.

The elven fighter's slipped into the sand, leaving a trail of blood to splatter against his legs. He stared in horror as she stayed in the sand, coloring his side a muddy brown as more of her blood seeped below.

Luckily for her, the bracelet on her wrist flashed a different color and a ring of light surrounded her chest.

The noble snapped his gaze upward only for a wave of heat to scorch his eyes dry. He summoned another bubble to ward off the attack and jumped toward the pillar.

"Enough! I'll-"

"You'll what?" Zog whispered.

The noble's mana flashed a bright yellow and streams of golden light burst from his chest. Zog punched away the first skill and stomped the second ribbon before it crawled up his leg. The third he caught with his hand.

"Is that it?" he asked. The ribbon held a cutting edge but it failed to penetrate his skin. Zog wrapped the skill around his arm and yanked the noble closer, pulling him into his grasp. When their noses came face to face he grinned wide, shoving his tusks into the noble's cheeks. "I expected more."

Instead of responding the noble's face turned yellow and a high-pitch screech filled his ears. A pinprick of light built in the noble's mouth and heat distorted the air in a haze.

Zog slammed his head against the noble's helmeted skull and felt a crack. A second headbutt brought the noble to his knees, the skill shattering inside the noble's mouth bleeding the heat down his throat.

Not to have his prey take himself out before Zog was through with him, he grabbed at the heat with Flameborn Soul. He sucked it away and gathered it in his fist where a building marble of fire rolled into existence against his palm.

He looked down and sighed as the noble tried and failed to stand.

Won't have much use for them, need to make this explosive.

He rifled through his options and considered what skill he was willing to reveal. Already he had shown three so far.

His eyes narrowed. Four. He'd reveal four of his skills in this fight. That should be enough to pique the felkin's interest.

When he turned the caster scrambled to get away. He unleashed an onslaught of stone arrows toward Zog, the projectiles increasing in number to nearly a dozen. Most he hammered out of the way with his free fist, the rest he dodged.

Nearly within reach of the caster, the human slammed his hands together and yelled. An earthshaking rumble tore through the arena. Sand exploded as jagged spears sprouted from the earth.

Zog hopped onto a spike, using a barrier of hardened mana to coat his feet. In a single kick, he crashed into the ground, coating the caster in a wave of sand.

"Get away!" he screamed.

Razor-sharp blades of jagged stone tore through the ground and homed onto Zog. He cartwheeled to the side, avoiding six of them while another two landed against his back.

The caster laughed, expecting victory but Zog stood up. He nodded seriously toward the caster. "I apologize. I thought you were merely weak but it was I being the foolish brute in this fight. I underestimated you. For that I am sorry."

Two ghostly fists stretched, holding the spinning stone blades at bay. They pushed away the skill and then snapped a jab that turned the blades to rubble. The caster raised his hands and the dull brown mana hidden underneath his pants turned amber.

Zog punched through the forming barrier and wrapped his fingers around the caster's head. In a crouching leap, he jumped to the top of the pillar and then jumped up again, carrying both fighters with him into the air.

He twisted and flung them onto the king's pillar one atop another. For a brief second, he hovered in the air, propelled by the momentum of his skill.

Zog flashed a devilish grin at a specific booth.

Once gravity took hold and started to drag him back to the earth, Zog flipped midair and split his mana.

Helldiver's Chariot rocketed him at the pillar. Mana built inside his fist, expanding the roiling marble of dark red flames into a skull-sized sphere. His arm cocked back and he threw twenty percent of his mana into the new skill.

The flames formed four points and grew into a star wider than his shoulders. The caster rolled onto his back and opened his mouth in a silent scream as the Zog connected with the pillar and unleashed the pent-up mana.

"Ragnarok's Descent!" he shouted.

The arena turned crimson red, as a wolf's howl roared through the air.

One brilliant skill, hopefully enough to entice a demon into accepting his challenge.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.