Tempest looked at Thalen, utterly confused by his statement. Thalen simply closed his eyes and began to concentrate.
Soon, a cocoon of ice surrounded Thalen, a defensive measure to finish the spell he was trying to cast.
Tempest frowned, "I know you can't hear me, but you can't hide forever, I'll just chip away at the block unti-"
Tempest cut himself short as he felt the temperature around him grow colder, then colder, then even colder.
He could see his breath, then his lashes began to freeze, and soon his hair. However, he just chuckled, "Boy, we're Soulwrights, our bodies can be fortified to survive temperatures much colder than you can muster."
Thalen kept going, the temperature dropping lower and lower. Tempest just stared on in boredom when suddenly, the temperature hit a breaking point.
Tempest couldn't tell, but Thalen was very aware. The ice cocoon shattered, and Thalen emerged.
Tempest chuckled, "Listen, kid, getting me cold won't help you. I get you're scared, it's ok, you can walk out, I won't-"
Thalen cut him off, an ice-covered knee rushing towards his face, and this time it connected.
Tempest was sent flying again, crashing into the wall of the pit. After a few moments, he recovered, then asked.
"WHY ISN'T THE WIND LISTENING TO ME. WHAT DID YOU DO!"
Thalen looked at him, then said, "After a certain temperature, wind becomes heavier, denser, and harder to control. I'm not like my father, who could liquify the air, but I can get close. Enough to disrupt your wind affinity."
Tempest looked on in shock, never having seen someone with such amazing control over Ice. An amazed expression crossed his face. "You're an incredibly talented boy. I think I have to try to kill you now to stand a chance."
Thalen nodded, then attacked again, feet planted, hips twisted, A right hook straight to the liver, wanting to incapacitate and end the fight.
Tempest wasn't used to having such an issue controlling the wind; he was slower, his barrier gone, and his senses dulled. He dodged the blow, but Thalen's knuckle grazed him, and the pain was terrible, but not paralyzing.
This pattern continued, Thalen pushing the offensive, but avoiding lethal attacks, and Tempest dodging, looking for an opening.
And an opening came; Thalen pulled a kick too much, disrupting his balance. Tempest didn't waste the opportunity. He channeled his SoulCurrent and sent a windblade to the back of Thalen's thigh. The cut was deep, and Thalen stopped in his tracks, falling to one knee.
Tempest stood over him and spoke, "If you came at me with the intent to kill, you would've won already. Now you'll die, kid. I'm sorry, but this is the way the pit works."
Thalen didn't answer, then suddenly jerked his head to the side and pointed, "WHAT'S THAT!"
Unbelievably, against all odds, Tempest's head turned to look, and Thalen didn't waste this opportunity. A glacial spike emerged from the ground behind Tempest and pierced him right through the chest.
Tempest's eyes widened in shock, the spike piercing his heart. He laughed once. Wet. Disbelieving. "You little bastard…"
He died there, pinned to the spike, and the entire arena fell silent.
A newbie, who had never fought here before, who was practically on death's door, used the oldest distraction trick in the book, and it WORKED.
Before the announcer even spoke, two distinct laughs could be heard. One from the dugout, and the other from a premium booth.
Thalen smiled and thought to himself, They're good people, Cyrn was about to intervene if I died, and I'm sure Elyon was ready too…
Thalen smiled and got up. I should stick around, I think today is just the start of their madness
POV: Cyrn
Cyrn stared, eyes wide at the ice spike embedded in Tempest's chest, hands still shaking at the sudden reversal.
Thank god he won. Holy shit, thank god. I can't believe that worked. 'What's that?' Are you kidding me? I can't believe he had the balls to do that.
Cyrn started laughing, really laughing. He hadn't seen something this ridiculous in a long time.
Thalen came back into the dugout, the crowd now catching up with what happened, some booing, some cheering. Most people lost a lot of money, but some lucky ones made a boatload today.
Thalen sat next to Cyrn, who was still laughing, a small smile on his face.
Cyrn turned towards Thalen, trying to suppress his laughter.
"Dude, how do you come up with something like that? You were about to die, and you go 'What's that?'...BAHAHAHA!"
Thalen chuckled, then said, "The idea actually came from my father. We sparred one time; he had several handicaps on, and I had him on the ropes for the first time, as I was basking in my glory, he did the same thing, and fully turned the tables on me. I thought, why not try the same thing?"
Cyrn looked stunned, then laughed even more. "I can't believe you took a gamble like that, you're crazy!"
Thalen smiled lightly, and Cyrn kept laughing to himself. Soon, the announcer came back, voice reverberating across the arena.
"What an upset! A champ like Tempest taken out by a newbie! This was the last thing I'd have on my bingo card today. Let's see if we can get a repeat, as another newbie is coming into the pit. Please welcome the Vampire!"
Cyrn heard his stage name called, a small hope in his chest that he won't have to kill anyone right now.
His hopes were crushed in the next instant, "And facing off against him is our reigning champ, the one and only, Yrsass, the Lord of the Pit!"
Cyrn watched as a grey-haired man walked into the pit. His face was wrinkled, slightly hunched over, and was emitting an air of absolute danger.
Cyrn looked at the man who was old enough to be his great-grandfather. This guy is going to wipe the floor with me.
Yrsass looked at Cyrn and smiled, "Do not worry, boy, I do not kill newbies or children."
Cyrn looked at the old man, surprised at his politeness, "Thank you, I guess."
Yrsass chuckled. "Oh, don't thank me yet, boy, let's finish this match first and then decide how thankful you are."
Before Cyrn could respond, the announcer signalled the beginning of the match, and Yrsass immediately disappeared from his standing point.
As soon as Cyrn processed, he was missing. His right arm went flying, sliced cleanly at the shoulder.
Yrsass stood behind him, now sheathing his long sword, "Forfeit, young one, the match is over."
Cyrn didn't react, but for half a heartbeat, fear clawed up his throat. He pushed it down, then looked at his missing right arm and chuckled. "Better than dying, I guess, though your mercy is very misleading."
Yrsass looked at the boy, not reacting to his missing arm, when he saw something amazing.
The flesh where the cut was began to bubble, bone reconstructing inch by inch around it, muscular tissue weaving in between, and skin pulling over everything.
Yrsass looked on in shock, and Cyrn didn't let the chance go to waste. "Pay attention, old timer."
Yrsass refocused, but it was already too late. Cyrn stepped in, foot planted inside Yrsass' guard, sword inching closer to his heart.
Yrsass shifted his body, not enough to evade the blow, but enough to survive. A deep gash forms on his left side, his right hand covering the wound.
Yrsass assessed the damage, then chuckled. "I haven't been hurt like this in a long time, boy. And that regeneration is something to behold. An entire arm, with no SoulCurrent used, how impressive."
Cyrn shrugged, "What can I say, I'm a walking anomaly."
"That you are, boy. I guess I should take this seriously."
As Yrsass said that, a thin film of water began to form around his blade. He dashed in, closing the distance in an instant. An overhead slash came from Yrsass. His full bodyweight and momentum put into the strike.
It was a haymaker of a swing, readable and with too much force placed into it. Cyrn raised his sword for a simple parry, deflecting the strike. Yrsass retreats after the strike, and Cyrn looks confused at the pointless exchange. Then Yrsass said, "Look at your sword again, boy."