“Welcome back to the third day of the tournament. For this third round, ten teams will battle it out against another until only five teams remain. For this round, we will be doing multiple one versus one battles where every member will be given a random number between one and five. Those who have the same number will fight. Once all contestants have fought, then the winners from both teams will duke it out in an all-out brawl!”
The crowd cheers and screams, roaring as they usually do. Nowhere near as loud as when Boriss’s team won yesterday, but still loud enough to annoy Quasi’s exceptional hearing.
“Gond, what about the team with less members? I think I remember a team with only three members and some others with four?” Quasi asks.
“They fight, but are given extra numbers.”
“Oh. So if Boriss was alone, he could technically still win by beating everyone on the enemy team.”
“Yes, though he doesn’t exactly get a breather or time to care for his wounds in between fights.”
“Boriss doesn't need stamina and I doubt the man will get hit.”
“Now, our first teams will take to the field.”
The first teams to arrive have full members on both sides. They are now armored somewhat haphazardly with pieces that don’t match. Regardless, it is far more protection than they’d have against beasts.
With another blair of the horn, the battles commence. It is here that Quasi finds the [Gladiators] to be quite competent fighters. Of the ten, only two have actual trained skill with their weapons. Regardless, skill can only get you far, for both skilled combatants are beaten by experience, either with a kick to the groin or in this case, a throw of sand followed by a stab to the throat.
“They’re pretty brutal,” Quasi comments.
“[Gladiators] fight to win. They must be fast, adaptable, and willing to be as underhanded as possible for a victory.” Gond explains. “Few classes that specialize in a singular weapon get far in the tournaments. Diversity is what wins.”
“I see. Mind telling me what your class is?” Quasi asks.
“[Swift Blader]”
“And that is…”
“A advanced class specializing in bladed weaponry and speed. It’s a diverse class good for these tournaments, but poor outside of them,” Myers explains. “They struggle in large groups and against specialist classes of a similar level. I’ve heard of only two who have become experts. Otherwise, the class is limited in growth.”
Gond frowns, but he does not refute Myers' words. After all, Gond has been stuck at level forty-nine for decades- unable to cross the hallmark that separates the strong and the elite.
The first round ends with a single death and the team with the death is actually the winner. If the guy had survived, he’d be in the finals.
The next round is completely one-sided both in skill and in numbers. Five skilled opponents completely dominate a team of three.
The third and fourth are far more interesting and enjoyable to watch. It is also here that Quasi realizes how useful good armor is against weapons lacking any runes. A [Gladiator] with a shorter weapon takes a hit to the cuirass from a longsword, but takes the opportunity to ram his mace in the opponent's unprotected shoulder and wins the match.
The final round of the day is where Quasi leans forward in interest and the crowd cheers preemptively. Boriss strides in with a gleaming full plate minus a helmet, followed by the rest of his team. Unfortunately, the opposing team mostly matches Boriss in armor. Three of the five from the enemy team are in full-plate while the other two are in half-plate. This team is the team that went after Boriss in yesterday's match. They’d ransacked the quality armor guarded by the Wyvern and the Basilisk.
The two teams meet on the sandy battlefield at opposite sides of a [Gladiator] judge. The man gives each team a card with a number, then orders the first contestants to step forward.
Gino steps forward nervously, as does one of the men in half-plate and mace.
“Could have been worse. The full-plate would be difficult for a dagger to get through.”
Taking a breath, Gino lowers his posture and takes a knife fighting stance. A good stance, too. A trained stance.
“The kids got good form,” Myers comments.
Quasi nods. “He’s trained, which is good. He’s going to need that training if he’s going to win.”
The judge starts the fight immediately and the two combatants circle each other while moving closer. To Quasi’s surprise, Gino is the first to go in. He rushes forward, only to be met with a swinging mace. The kid expects this and ducks and stabs towards the man's exposed leg. The man lifts his leg and blocks it with an armored shin. Immediately after the block, the mace comes down, but Gino side-steps again.
“The kid’s too short, the mans too tall, and that mace doesn't have enough range,” Myers says. “Gino needs to only land a single proper hit.”
“[Gladiators] are trained to fight beasts of a short stature,” Gond warns.
Before Myers can comment again, the guy with the mace kicks towards Gino, landing an armored foot into the young man's chest. Then he rushes forward for a swing, but Gino rolls out of the way as the mace hits sand. The armor on the kids chest had absorbed the kick well.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The fight begins again the same way, though this time, Gino is more wary of his positioning.
“The kid’s going to tire first.” “Gino can’t keep this up.” Myers and Gond comment at the same time.
As though Gino had been listening, the kid does start to slow and breathe hard. His movements become sluggish and attacks less rapid. His opponent capitalises by increasing his own pace to accelerate the exhaustion.
“I bet Boriss would be proud,” Quasi comments with a grin.
Just as Gino’s opponent takes an opportunity to land a kick, Gino moves fast and his breathing becomes even. He not only dodges the kick, but kicks out at the other man's leg, tripping him. The moment the mace-wielder falls, Gino springs atop him and places the sharp end of his dagger to the man's throat.
The two old men are silent while Clay suppresses a giggle.
The judge rules Gino the winner and is then immediately congratulated by his team.
“It’s amazing how even experienced fighters can so easily be tricked by an opponent that acts exhausted,” Quasi mocks.
The next round of the match puts Michael against a full-plate [Gladiator] with a longsword. Both take a stance and the judge starts the battle. Like Gino, Micheal is very mobile and uses the spear's superior range to poke and stab at the other combatant. Unfortunately, the force he can apply is only enough to scratch the metal. So Micheal focuses on the head, but his opponent easily blocks it with either gauntlet or longsword.
“The runed plate-armor is a bad choice to have been added to the tournament. It’s too light and effective against most non-runed weapons.” Gond says with a grimace.
“I’m seeing some small dents in the plate from the spear. He can penetrate the armor if he thrusts hard enough,” The cat comments.
As though Micheal had been listening, he faints a thrust at his opponent's face, who shifts his sword in the way, only for Micheal to kneel, hop and then thrust his spear with the full force of his body at the man's heart. The spear penetrates the metal most of the way, even penetrating skin, but only the tip. The [Gladiator] reacts by sliding his longsword down the shaft of the spear, forcing Micheal to let go. Then the [Gladiator] rips the spear out with a paint grunt, only to shatter it under his boot.
Micheal turns to the judge and tells him he gives up.
With both teams now down a member, the next fight is between the [Berserker] Agris and another plated [Gladiator] with a greate-axe. Unlike the previous fight, this one is between two greate-axe users. The fight starts with a roar, followed up by a clinking of blades. A long fight of two [Gladiators] with equal skill that only ends in Agris losing on account of superior armor. Though a greataxe can penetrate plate, it can penetrate chainmail far easier. With a gash across Agris' chest, the man is forced to give up.
The fourth round has Baldric against the half-plate with a longsword. Baldrick's greatsword has better range, but is a slower weapon compared to his opponents longsword. Not that it matters, for Baldric isn’t the type to play fair. The moment the judge starts the fight, Baldric rushes forward with greatsword dragging sand. Before he reaches the opponent, he slashes upward, sending sand into the man's face. The [Warrior] doesn't stop there. He continues the spin of his momentum and predicts his opponent to hop back. He jumps forward with his followup swing and connects using the full force of his body. His opponent had recovered enough to raise his longsword to block, but the force applied by Baldric pushes not only the weapon aside, but his entire opponent is sent flying.
When the [Gladiator] attempts to get up, he fails on account of his right elbow broken alongside several ribs. Though the armor wasn’t penetrated, the kinetic force did.
“That’s a [Warrior] for you.” Gond nods with a smile. “Adaptive, violent, and unpredictable.”
Baldric walks back from his win with the same grimace he usually has. Out of the three, Baldric has the most experience. He’d pretty much been raised as a [Gladiator] since his mother sold him off at the tender age of five.
Finally, It’s Boriss’s turn. The big Russian takes to the field not as a [Gladiator], but as a [Gladiator Champion] in all but job. His opponent comes to the field with a surprising level of confidence. That confidence comes in the form of a spiked maul.
“Alright you old farts, what are your thoughts?” Quasi asks the old men.
“The maul is a good counter against Boriss’s armor. A direct hit will shatter the plate,” Gond explains.
“The same can be done with a Greatsword, as Baldric demonstrated.” Myers counters.
“Yes, but he had to put the entire force of his body through a long windup to do so. A maul can do it faster and easier.”
“True,” Myers nods, “But Boriss weighs nearly three hundred pounds- nearly all of it muscle. If you notice, he wields that greatsword as though it’s merely a longsword.”
“Being larger makes you slower,” Gond adds. “Smaller opponents tend to win duels via superior speed and skill. If you’re too slow to hit, then your strength is meaningless.”
Myers strokes his long beard. “Even so, I can’t see Boriss losing. The man moves differently.”
Gond shrugs. “Maybe. I didn’t see it, but I heard he took down seventeen opponents on his own.”
“Boriss is a combat savant in all its forms,” Quasi begins. “He learns and adapts very quickly not only during battle, but also in his training. For example, Boriss’s muscles are purposely developed for combat. Every day, he exerts his muscles with a combination of Plyometric exercises, resistance training, and extensive yoga. The structure of his muscles are streamlined for speed, power, and maneuverability.”
“Is that even possible?” Gond asks.
Quasi chuckles. “Yes, and I’ve done the same- though the process is a bitch. Anyway, the fight is starting. Let’s see how Boriss tackles this.”
The judge raises his hand and then lowers it with both opponents beginning to circle. The first to engage isn’t Boriss, but the [Gladiator]. The man rushes forward and swings his maul, but Boriss diverts the blow with his greatsword with as minimal movement as possible. The [Gladiator] doesn’t relent and swings again, even spinning his body to keep the momentum.
Boriss doesn’t allow the man to complete the swing, for the Russian drops his Greatsword and rushes in with a grapple. The maul completely misses Boriss, while the Russian armored fist slams into the [Gladiators] face, forcing the man to drop his maul. Without allowing the man to recover, Boriss forces the man face-first into the sand while twisting the man's arm behind his back. The [Gladiator] tries to fight back, but the heavier Russian just twists further until the man screams surrender.
Quasi nods. “Boriss really likes to be unpredictable.”
With the round won, the next part of the match begins where Boriss, Gino, and Baldric face off against the two surviving members. Though outnumbered, the two [Gladiators] look ready to fight. As does Boriss. The Russian wields his greatsword with both hands and the flat of the blade pointed down. As the judge raises his hand, Boriss’s posture lowers slightly, a movement covered by the greatsword.
As soon as the match begins, sand explodes under Boriss’ feet. The Russian travels ten feet through the air, landing three feet from the greataxe user. Then he transitions the momentum of his landing with a thrust of his Greatsword. The [Barbarian] [Gladiators] eyes widen as he moves to parry with his axe, but the man is too slow. Boriss’s weapon moves so fast and with such force that the plate armor is penetrated not only from the front, but through the man's chest and out the back, killing the [Gladiator] instantly. Before the other [Gladiator] can react, Boriss pulls out his blooded greatsword and turns it towards the man.
As soon as the man realises what just happened, he drops his longsword and surrenders.
Then the crowd goes nuts.
“BORISS, BORISS, BORISS,”
