"Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest."
Joshua 1:9 (KJV)
Tristan stood in the arena, taking in the air. He ran his hand through his hair, loosening the style Drusilla had put it in. The sea of red hair danced in the wind. Tristan was currently on a rollercoaster of emotions: the anticipation of the fight about to take place, the rush he felt when he imagined the helpless look on his opponent's face as he realized he couldn't win.
Time to see if this Seraphite is worth my time.
Tristan walked past the weapon selection rack as if it weren't there.
I have no use for mortal instruments.
Colton Walter watched his opponent closely, from his stride to his stance in the square.
This dude is definitely a noble. He's already looking down on me and the match hasn't even started?
Colton grew up in Indiana. His parents belonged to the middle class, and he'd seen firsthand how the upper class treated people like them—as if they existed only to be used and disposed of at the slightest inconvenience.
His fists tightened around the sword's hilt, knuckles whitening.
He'd spent his entire life watching people like Tristan look down on people like him.
Not today.
The entire arena seemed to fade around him as he lowered his stance, his eyes never leaving Tristan.
Bang!
The gunshot rang out.
Colton shot toward Tristan, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
Tristan grinned.
He ducked out of the way, the blade narrowly missing him. Tristan stepped in, driving a jab into Colton's torso, sending him skidding backward.
Colton dug his heels into the ground, stabilizing himself before closing the distance between them again. Using his forward momentum, he swung his sword downward, attempting to cleave Tristan in half.
That's more like it!
Tristan leapt backward, dust particles scattering. He fired a beam of light at Colton.
Colton instantly raised the blade diagonally, deflecting the attack. The force traveled through his hands, leaving them slightly numb.
"Impressive defense, mortal. But I hope you don't plan on holding back like that other fellow, Terr—"
A line of searing flame was sent directly at Tristan's head. The demon jerked his head to the side, the attack missing him.
"You talk too much, noble!" Colton spat, charging forward for another exchange.
Flames? Yet another mediocre ability in the hands of an equally mediocre mortal.
Tristan threw a punch at Colton.
This noble is fast. I have to improvise.
Colton shifted his head at the last moment, allowing the fist to graze his cheek. He stepped inside Tristan's reach, using the momentum of the missed punch to slip past his shoulder. Pivoting on his foot, Colton spun with his body and drove his elbow into the demon's nose.
Crack!
His elbow slammed into Tristan's nose. Pain exploded across his face as warmth spread from the point of impact through his head and sinuses. To a normal person, this would be disorienting, but to Tristan, a being born of suffering itself, it was a mild inconvenience.
"Why'd you stop talking? You seemed to have so much to say earlier," Colton sneered, brandishing his short sword.
Tristan laughed.
"All your efforts and yet I'm still unhurt. Try harder!"
His figure blurred, materializing behind Colton.
What the fuck? Did he get faster?
Tristan reached forward. A burst of flame erupted from Colton's back, catching Tristan off guard and propelling him out of the demon's reach.
Colton drove his sword into the floor, dragging the blade against the ground to slow his momentum.
Tristan's irises flared, firing beams of light from his eyes. Colton leapt away from the floor, abandoning his weapon.
"Rest? I think not!"
To his horror, Tristan was behind him again. The demon fired a beam of light from his palm. The attack hit Colton square in the back, sending him skidding across the floor, debris flying.
His back felt like he had been struck with construction machinery. But it wasn't enough to keep him down.
Colton dragged himself to his feet and raised his hands, taking a fighting stance.
The demon retrieved the sword from the floor.
"It seems you lost something. Would you like it back?" Tristan sneered, fiddling with the blade.
Colton gathered saliva in his mouth and spat.
"Me? Take something from a noble like you? I might as well polish your shoes while I'm at it!"
Tristan tossed the blade out of the square.
"Very well, Colton. Shall we continue?" he beckoned.
Meanwhile, Melanie and Stephanie were watching the exchange closely. Stephanie's eyes hadn't left Tristan since he exited the room.
"Chill, sis. Any more staring and you would burn a hole through his head and get us disqualified," Melanie said.
Stephanie dismissed her sister with a wave.
"That dude is... interesting. His fighting style, I mean," Stephanie added.
"Yeah, if interesting is synonymous with boring, I agree. I think Colton is gonna whoop him."
Melanie retrieved another piece of gum from her purse.
Stephanie continued to watch the fight, fiddling with her pearls.
Mel must have missed it, but I didn't.
From refusing to use a weapon to the way he chided his opponent...
Tristan is holding back.
Multiple questions flooded her head, but the only one which troubled her was: why would someone come for a tournament as prestigious as this just to hide their strength?
Colton and Tristan closed the distance until they were only a couple of feet apart. They began to circle each other.
Colton's green eyes glowed faintly, ichor enhancing his focus.
Tristan lunged forward, targeting Colton's gut. The pyromancer sidestepped, Tristan's fist striking nothing but air.
Colton jabbed Tristan in the ribs, causing him to lurch forward.
A resounding thud echoed through the arena as Tristan's foot struck the floor.
"You move like an animal!"
Colton grabbed Tristan's head and yanked it down, driving his knee into his face. The demon stumbled backward.
Colton surged forward, delivering an underhand palm thrust to his gut.
Tristan's body suddenly froze. He grabbed Colton's wrist.
"You have to do better than that, boy!" he laughed, his grip slowly tightening like a vice.
A grin crept across the pyromancer's face.
"I told you, noble. You talk too much!"
Heat began to spread across Colton's palm, igniting Tristan's clothes.
"JET BURN!" Colton roared.
His entire hand erupted into flame, the force behind the strike driving it deeper into Tristan's midsection. Tristan was sent flying out of the square and across the arena, wisps of smoke trailing behind him.
His body slammed into a wall, earning a roar from the audience.
"Tristan Ashborne is down! Now to see if he stays down!" the announcer said.
Colton stared at the plume of dust and smoke billowing from the point of impact.
Arrogance. Every noble's flaw.
"Yes!" Melanie pumped her fist into the air. "Dude's O-U-T!"
Stephanie ignored her sister's celebration and kept her eyes trained on the plume of smoke.
Tristan was a formidable foe with monstrous physical prowess and endurance. His ability wasn't particularly unique, but the force behind it hinted that its user had a large ichor reserve. He had let his pride cloud his judgment, and he had paid for it.
No one is getting up after taking that much force at point-blank range. He's done.
The young woman continued fiddling with her pearls. If Tristan had truly been knocked out, why couldn't she shake the feeling that the fight wasn't over?
Colton slowly began approaching the smoke.
An eerie laugh emerged from the fading cloud.
"Colton Walter. Have you ever gone hunting?"
The pyromancer stopped in his tracks. With every breath he took, he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and palms.
"Our family never had the luxury of doing such. Because people like you robbed us of that chance by working them to death!" Colton spat, flames bursting across his hands and covering them completely.
"A predator starts by knowing the lay of the land, studying its prey's behavior. Slowly, it learns its prey's routines. Then it sets a trap beforehand. It lies in wait, stalking its every move, waiting for an opportunity."
A pause.
"Then it pounces! Swift, deadly, and instant. The prey stands no chance, dying before it can even recognize the danger."
A pale foot emerged from the smoke.
"What's the point of all this edgy bullshit?" Colton asked.
"Tell me, Colton. In this fight, do you think you're the hunter or the prey?" Tristan sneered.
The demon had fully emerged from the smoke. His shirt had been completely destroyed, leaving his pale, sculpted torso on display. His abdomen was now a light shade of red where Colton had struck him. Aside from that, he was completely unscathed. His pants remained somewhat intact, but his footwear was nowhere to be found. Tristan's eyes glowed scarlet as he watched Colton.
Colton raised his hands. He stretched out his right hand and curled his fingers, baiting Tristan.
As you wish.
Tristan slowly raised his left leg, as though he were about to take a casual step. The moment his foot touched the floor, his image blurred.
Colton's heart skipped a beat.
Now he's even faster? What is this power?
Tristan was suddenly only a few inches away. Before Colton could react, the demon reached for him.
His senses screamed, warning him of the incoming danger. The pyromancer instinctively raised his right forearm to guard himself.
A sickening crack echoed across the arena as Tristan's hand struck. Pain exploded in his arm. Colton felt his bones give way from the sheer force of the punch. The flames coating his right hand flickered and went out. Colton winced, gritting his teeth. The demon held his limp arm in an unyielding grip.
Colton tried to counter with a punch of his own. His other fist was caught effortlessly by Tristan.
"I'm going to make you see the futility of your efforts!" Tristan squeezed his fist, twisting it.
Still holding both of Colton's arms, the demon yanked him forward and headbutted him.
His head rocked back violently. The world vanished before Colton's eyes, his vision briefly darkening. Damn it, Colton; you can't fall asleep now! Think!
An idea sprang into the pyromancer's mind. Summoning what little strength he had left, Colton took a deep breath and forced his head forward. Heat began to well in his core. Colton tried to open his mouth when—
"Keep your accursed flames to yourself, flamebreather!"
Tristan released Colton's limp right arm and drove his fist into his gut.
The young man's body lurched forward, his eyes threatening to escape his skull. Instead of flames, Colton coughed up a wad of blood as air was forced from his lungs.
Without ending the assault, Tristan wrapped his hand around Colton's neck, hoisting him from the ground.
"Now do you see, Colton? From the moment you stepped into this ring, I have been watching you. You really thought you could best me?"
Tristan laughed, slightly squeezing.
Colton's face was as red as a tomato. He tried scorching Tristan, but the flames had no effect. All he could do was flail his arms weakly.
Is this the end?
Spots danced at the edge of Colton's vision.
"You are NOTHING!" Tristan roared, slamming Colton into the middle of the arena.
The floor slightly cracked. Dust and debris shot up.
For the umpteenth time that day, the crowd reacted with cheers.
"Colton Walter is down. Does this conclude the bout? Does the great pyromancer still have some gas in the tank?" the announcer asked.
Outside the arena, some members of the audience engaged in light conversation.
"Do you think it's over? That Colton kid really has heart, but this Tristan dude is a powerful whackjob," a middle-aged man said.
His friend, a shorter man with large spectacles, shook his head.
"What really concerns me is why the fight hasn't been stopped yet. Colton looks half-dead."
The shorter man rubbed his palms on his pants.
"Maybe they have a system that detects risk. Remember, they are trying to prevent death, not injury."
Tristan began walking out of the square, strutting like a peacock. A cough made him stop in his tracks.
The demon grinned to himself.
"Colton? It seems you're still conscious."
Colton groaned weakly in response, slowly dragging himself to his feet. He stood slightly hunched over, knees wobbling.
"My parents perished... at the hands of... nobles," he said between labored breaths.
Colton bared his bloodied teeth as he glared at Tristan.
"I refuse... this fate!"
A dense pillar of flame descended from the heavens, shattering the forcefield and engulfing Colton.
The arena trembled from the impact, the floor vibrating beneath the audience's feet.
The crowd erupted in gasps. Even the announcer was left briefly stunned.
The flames burned brightly for a moment before slowly fading.
Colton slowly emerged from the flames, a sight that shocked everyone further.
All his wounds had healed shut, his arm restored to its original condition. Small wisps of smoke wafted from his body. His skin was red, almost as if he were burning from the inside.
His green eyes were no more, replaced by a sea of white.
His clothes had been lost to the flames as well. His forearms were covered in a thick, molten substance that scorched the floor when it fell. Each step the entity took caused the floor beneath him to sizzle.
The entity slowly began to approach Tristan.
The demon merely watched in amusement.
Perhaps I underestimated this insect.
The entity's lips slowly parted, smoke wafting from his mouth.
"We failed our son once before. Never again."