The atmosphere in the arena calmed down a little.
Osric's expression, however, remained focused. He wasn't finished yet.
He was handed over his winnings, but he remained standing in the middle of the pit.
'This isn't enough to challenge a champion.'
The five elite fighters outside the ring all looked forward to Osric's decision.
His attention however was on just one person.
'Finally. It's time to face my last recruitment target.'
Osric pointed at a man in his late forties with a thick dark beard and short greying hair.
The man smiled.
"Haha. I was hoping you'd pick me."
Both the crowd and the other four fighters outside the ring were taken aback.
"He chose Garrick?!"
"That's crazy."
"Garrick is probably the strongest elite fighter."
Adam and Alice, who were among the four others were also surprised.
'Brave choice.'
They had both lost to him before.
Garrick now stood in front of Osric.
"This is going to be fun."
He was the same height, but his body looked a lot more trained and refined despite his age.
"Nice scar there kid. How did you get it?" He asked while pointing under Osric's eye.
"I'll tell you if you beat me."
"Hahaha! I like your confidence. Fine, I'll tell you about mine then as well."
He touched his two deep scars on his face.
'Recruiting him will be the simplest compared to the others, but actually gaining his trust and loyalty will be the opposite.'
'Garrick left his mercenary band as vice captain from a bigger city, because he disagreed with their ways of doing things.'
'Right now he lacks purpose and excitement in his life. That's why he spends so much time in this filthy place.'
Osric already knew what to do.
"Hey Garrick. I have a proposition for you."
"Oh? What is it kiddo?"
Garrick's interest sharpened.
"Whoever loses this fight has to work under the other. When I win, I want you to work for me and join my adventurer party."
Garrick didn't laugh this time, but he still smiled.
His eyes however looked both curious and intense.
Garrick's eyes lingered on Osric for a moment longer. Not reckless. Not desperate.
'…Interesting.'
"Alright. Show me what you got."
His hand firmly gripped Osric's.
The referee overheard everything and decided it was something that would excite the crowd.
"In case you didn't hear this everyone, Osric and Garrick just agreed that the loser will become the winner's subordinate!"
"What an exciting event we have here tonight! Now let me formally introduce them once again."
"To my right stands to rising star of the elite bracket, with a new record of 18 wins and 0 losses, Osric!"
"And facing him is the top dog of this bracket! The elite among elites! A veteran mercenary and fighter of this arena! With an astounding record of 80 wins and only 6 losses, 4 of those being of active champions—
To my left stands, The Incredible Garrick!"
"Whoah!!"
"Show him who's boss, Garrick!"
"Win Osric!"
"Garrick!"
"Haha, they seem excited." Garrick said.
Osric didn't respond.
'My hardest fight so far—
And the one that matters most.'
The referee stepped between them.
He looked from one to the other—
Then quickly stepped back.
"Fight!"
Neither of them rushed.
For a brief moment—
They simply stood there.
Watching.
Measuring.
The noise of the arena dulled.
Not gone—
But distant.
Garrick moved first.
One step forward.
Slow.
Unhurried.
He stopped just outside striking range.
Osric didn't advance immediately.
His eyes stayed locked on him.
'He's not giving anything.'
Garrick's posture looked relaxed.
Almost careless.
But his arms were already set.
Ready.
Osric stepped in.
Testing.
A quick entry—
Garrick's hand shot forward.
Straight.
Precise.
It met him halfway.
Not hard—
But enough.
Osric's movement stopped instantly.
Forced to halt before he could even begin.
'…Fast.'
He adjusted.
Shifted angle.
Tried again—
Different approach.
Garrick moved just as little as before.
Barely a step.
Another straight strike came.
Same timing.
Same placement.
Again—
Osric was stopped.
Not blocked.
Not countered—
Denied.
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"…He's shutting him down."
Osric circled.
Light.
Controlled.
Searching.
Garrick turned with him.
Always facing him.
Always ready.
No wasted motion.
Osric stepped in again—
Faster this time.
More committed.
Garrick's arm moved earlier.
The moment Osric shifted his weight—
It was already there.
A sharp impact against his chest.
Not heavy—
But perfectly placed.
His momentum broke.
Again.
Osric stepped back.
Reset.
His breathing steady.
But his focus sharpened.
'He's not reacting…'
'He's deciding.'
Garrick smiled faintly.
"Too straightforward."
No mockery.
Just observation.
Osric didn't respond.
He moved again.
A slight feint—
A shift of the shoulder—
Garrick didn't move.
Didn't bite.
Nothing.
Osric stepped in anyway—
Committed.
Garrick adjusted.
Small.
Efficient.
His forearm redirected the entry—
Just enough to throw him off line—
And a second strike followed.
Short.
Clean.
It clipped Osric's jaw.
Not hard—
But undeniable.
The crowd reacted.
"He hit him!"
Garrick stepped back.
Relaxed again.
Like nothing had happened.
Osric steadied himself.
No frustration.
No rush.
But his eyes sharpened further.
'This is the strongest one yet.'
Across from him—
Garrick watched him closely.
Still smiling.
But more focused now.
"…Good."
Osric stepped forward again.
Slower this time.
More deliberate.
The space between them—
Felt different.
Controlled.
Every inch.
Every step.
Garrick didn't move.
Didn't press.
He simply waited.
And the moment Osric stepped just a fraction too far—
His arm moved again.
Clean.
Precise.
Stopping him before anything could begin.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Not overwhelming.
Not aggressive.
Just—
Control.
Osric stepped back.
Fully this time.
Resetting.
The crowd had quieted now.
Watching more carefully.
"…He can't get in."
Osric exhaled slowly.
His stance lowered.
More compact.
More controlled.
'Alright.'
'Then I won't force it.'
Across from him—
Garrick's smile widened slightly.
Like he had been waiting for that.