A bright burning spire laid before Myles, but before he could even think about the meaning of this stranger being able to use flame magic of this caliber.
The giant now covered in soot charged towards him, his scythe held high.
Myles backstepped as the giant swung his monstrously large weapon.
He drew his longsword from his scabbard and dagger from his waist.
But every time the giant swung his scythe, the only action Myles could make was to dodge.
The sky reaching fire still burned, as the giant continued his onslaught with each step and attack, scarring the arena's ground.
"What got nothing else to say? No more grandstanding?!"
Myles roared, his lungs burned, and his heart was pounding in his chest.
On top of all that, Myles was unable to think of a strategy to beat the now silent giant.
Myles had rarely been on the backfoot when dueling but never when in a true fight.
The giant was first to land a blow, the slash carrying enough strength that it sent the young Vouyer flying into the wall of the arena.
Due to the rules Myles was allowed to take his time getting back up which he used to his advantage.
Dagger in hand, Myles threw it as hard as he could, aiming for the armored monster's neck.
The giant shockingly caught the dagger, but that was of little consequence.
Because Myles used this as an opening to cut off the giant's head.
With the strongest attack he had ever made before in his life, he was able to cut the giant's neck.
But instead of the discourse of the crowd, the gurgling of the giant, or even the sound of blood dripping on the hard ground.
Instead Myles heard the hissing of sand, confused he turned to his vanquished foe.
Only to find the slowly collapsing giant made of nothing but ash, its weapon and person slowly crumbling into a pile of soot.
Myles watched on as the ashen giant slowly crumbled, only to hear another sound.
It was a metallic sound, but not like the sound of blades crossing or the rattling of iron chains.
There was a rhythm, a recognizable rhythm. It was only when the towering flaming spire started to slowly die was when Myles recognized what he was hearing.
It was clapping, and the one who was applauding was the giant who had been standing in the middle of the flaming spire.
"I have to hand it to you."
He continued to clap as he spoke.
"Even if I had a one and a half second delay, a loss is a loss."
The clapping stopped as the giant's mana started to soar, with the air around him starting to shimmer.
It was at this moment that Myles dropped his sword and spoke.
"I give up! You win!"
Myles spoke because his life depended on it, his whole body had been screaming that this battle had to end now.
He would have revenge later, but not right now.
But his submission to the giant did not get the reaction he was expecting.
Of course the crowd was annoyed that the fight was now over, but the giant?
He was furious.
"What?"
He spoke out of clenched teeth, he then walked up to the exhausted Myles.
"You cannot just walk away from this, you swore on it!"
His mind was racing, what word?
Myles actually laughed as he figured out what the giant was talking about.
Swearing on the throne's noble heart, is a saying as old as Soladarr herself.
Something Myles had heard a few times spoken by the knights that followed the king.
It was something he said without much thought, it sounded threatening and was all he really knew.
"No! I can't! I Won't!"
Myles screamed as he attempted to once again run away from his responsibilities.
"[Prison of Cinders]"
Was the giant's response, his hand closed as he spoke those words.
The ash that had made up the giant's double, converged onto Myles.
Imprisoning the coward in a covering of thick soot, Myles was stuck and unable to move.
Stuck in a cowardly form, stuck crawling on his hands and knees, his neck exposed.
Like an ashen statue with Myles' face being the only thing left exposed.
"What do you want? You have beaten me, Humiliated me! Why continue this?"
The giant started to walk towards his captured foe, slowly but steadily and as he got closer to Myles the giant started to speak.
"I did not want or mean for this 'confrontation' to go this far. But the moment you made that oath, you decided that this had to be a battle to the death."
After the giant spoke, he readied his scythe like an executioner, the weapon hovering over the coward's neck.
he towered over the contained Myles, all spectators became dead silent as he then raised his scythe to the sky.
But before the blow was struck and this battle was over, someone new had entered the arena's grounds.
Two trumpeters announced his arrival and gained both the fighters and audience's attention.
He entered smiling, clothed in chain mail and covered in medals, both earned and 'inherited'.
His long sword, Wyrmcutter, hung and swayed as it was housed in its sheath he kept at his right side.
Myles once again stirred before the giant, laughing with a regained confidence.
"Father!"
Davan Vouyer, captain of the royal guard and father of Myles, had arrived after hearing that his son had caused yet another commotion that had blown out of proportions.
As he got close to the two young men, he spoke hoping his silver tongue could end this charade quickly.
"Could you please tell me why you have my son on his hands and knees and an audience excited for his death?"
His voice was calm and tempered, and he continued to smile.
But his smile failed to reach his eyes and the voice felt stale to the giant's ears.
"Do you know of your son's crimes?"
The giant retorted, his voice like the echoes of wayward thunder.
The captain raised an eyebrow to even getting a question, all had fled in terror when he appeared in front of those his son had used.
But for this brutish warrior in crude armor to dare question him, that was certainly new.
"What crimes?"
Davan asked, feigning ignorance of his son's problems with money.
This only angered the giant, his voice becoming a roar.
"His abuse of the people, the complete disregard of noble obligation, and his use of words he does not understand!"
Davan chuckled at the last one.
"You would kill a man over mere words, what kind hell spawned you?"
The giant stiffened at that question, before making his way to face the patriarch of the Vouyers.
"Soladarr, born and raised."
The giant spoke with a crushing certainty that even made the experienced Davan have to think about what to say next.
"Youve been away for a long time haven't you?"
The giant didn't answer, instead he once again took on a battle stance before asking a question of his own.
"You wish to stop this worm's judgement day?"
Davan drew Wrymcutter from its scabbard, his smile never wavering.
"Of course."
As he said those words a massive summoning circle appeared behind the giant.
"Teratorn!"
And from the circle appeared a monstrous vulture that left the audience and Davan speechless.
The audience then exploded with conversations, questions, and cheers.
"The tyrant of the skies!"
"It was real?"
"That name!"
"How big is that thing?"
"Can that thing fly?"
Teratorn himself roared as the Giants second fight was soon to begin.
But that is when a second interloper appeared, but this time they entered from the giants side.
They wore a simple cloak that made identifying them impossible.
The cloaked figure silently made their way, with most of the audience failing to notice him.
The giant was ready for this fight but soon became still, when the cloaked figure placed a hand on the giant's back.
The giant then silently but elegantly faced the hooded figure and took a one knee bow to the mysterious figure.
Terratorn himself bowed in the presence of the figure, his head bowed and wings splayed out.
The figure was still even as he spoke, his voice calm yet warm.
"Let me see my nephew's face."
All heard it, yet few realized what it truly meant.
The giant looked up, to face the hooded figure before slowly reaching towards his massive helm.
The helm was lifted slowly, before being set down in front of both of them.
And the hooded man smiled.