Chapter 98: Fast Paced

The next gate opened, but this time nobody in the audience shouted.

They had learned. The opponents entering the arena now were no longer fighters who could be defeated in a few exchanges. Somewhere along the way, the tournament had changed, and everyone watching could feel it. The air itself seemed heavier as the first challenger stepped onto the sand.

He was a broad man in silver armor, carrying a long black sword. His presence pressed against Dean like a physical weight.

The announcer raised his staff. "Next match! Decanus versus Halvar!"

Halvar did not boast. He simply drew his sword. "I have watched every fight you have had today, Decanus."

Dean rolled his shoulder. "Then you know how this usually ends."

A faint smile appeared on Halvar's face. "Not anymore."

The bell rang. A long noise went around inside the arena and the fight instantly began.

Halvar vanished. He literally vanished from the scene. It was shocking how fast he was.

Dean barely raised his spear in time. The impact shook his arms, and Halvar followed with another strike, then another, forcing Dean backward for the first time in several matches. The sword moved with frightening precision, every attack aimed at a place that forced Dean directly into the next one.

Dean blocked three blows before twisting his spear and pushing Halvar away. "You're fast."

"So are you."

Halvar rushed again.

This time Dean met him. Their weapons collided repeatedly, each impact sending small bursts of sand into the air. Dean's spear struck Halvar's armor twice, but neither blow seemed to slow him, while Halvar's sword eventually caught Dean across the ribs and cut through his clothes.

Dean stepped back and touched the wound.

Blood.

He looked at Halvar.

The man smiled.

Dean smiled back.

Then Dean attacked.

His spear shot forward, forcing Halvar to block high. Dean immediately changed direction and swept the weapon toward his legs. Halvar jumped, but Dean had already anticipated it. He struck him in the air and sent him crashing into the sand.

Halvar rolled away and stood again, but for the first time, his expression showed surprise.

Dean charged.

The next exchange was brutal. Halvar blocked, countered, and attacked with everything he had, while Dean answered every movement until their weapons locked together. Dean pushed, Halvar pushed back, and the ground beneath both of them cracked.

Then Dean suddenly released the pressure, stepped aside, and drove the butt of his spear into Halvar's stomach.

The armored warrior flew backward.

He hit the ground and remained there.

The announcer raised his staff.

"And Decanus wins!"

The crowd cheered, but there was no surprise in it anymore. They expected Dean to win. The only question was how long an opponent could last.

The next challenger entered.

A woman with six floating blades circling her body walked onto the battlefield. Her name was Mirelle, and unlike Halvar, she smiled when she saw Dean.

"I wanted this fight."

Dean looked at the weapons surrounding her. "Why?"

"Because you're the first person here who might make me use all six."

Dean shrugged. "Go ahead."

The bell rang.

All six blades launched at once.

Dean moved.

One passed his cheek, another struck his spear, and a third forced him to duck while the remaining three curved through the air and attacked from behind. Dean spun, knocking two aside with his spear, but the third grazed his arm.

Mirelle raised her hand, and the blades returned immediately.

They attacked again.

Dean couldn't simply charge her this time. The weapons came from every direction, each moving independently. He blocked one, dodged another, and destroyed a third with a direct strike.

Mirelle's eyes widened.

Dean had broken one of her weapons.

He rushed her before she could react.

She sent all five remaining blades toward him. Dean pushed forward anyway. The first struck his shoulder, the second cut his thigh, and the third passed beneath his arm, but Dean kept moving.

Mirelle's expression finally changed.

She tried to retreat.

Dean reached her.

One strike to the wrist broke her concentration. The remaining blades fell, and Dean struck her chest with the shaft of his spear, sending her into the sand.

"And Decanus wins!"

The crowd cheered.

Dean breathed heavily. Two opponents had already pushed him further than the previous group combined.

Then the third gate opened.

The temperature in the arena dropped.

A demon walked through.

He was enormous, taller than Gorran, with dark red skin and two thick horns curling upward. Unlike the demons Dean had fought earlier, this one wore heavy armor engraved with Nether runes, and a gigantic sword rested in his hands.

The announcer's voice became serious.

"Next match! Decanus versus Razael of the Nether!"

Razael looked at Dean.

"So you are the famous Decanus."

Dean raised his spear. "And you're another person who knows my name."

"I know more than your name."

Razael smiled. "I know what happened to Varek."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Then you know he lost."

"I know he surrendered."

The demon lifted his sword.

"I won't."

The bell rang.

Razael attacked.

Dean blocked.

The force nearly knocked him off his feet. The demon attacked again, and this time the impact forced Dean backward several meters.

Razael laughed. "Now you understand."

Dean steadied himself. "Yeah."

He looked at the demon's sword.

"It's heavy."

Razael swung.

Dean ducked. The sword tore through the air above his head, and Dean thrust immediately, but Razael twisted aside. The spear struck his armor without penetrating.

Razael kicked Dean in the chest.

Dean flew backward and rolled across the sand.

The audience remained calm.

They had seen this before.

Decanus had been pushed back.

That didn't mean he was losing.

Dean stood slowly. His chest hurt, and his hands were beginning to ache.

Razael charged again.

Dean waited until the last possible moment before moving. The sword came down, Dean stepped aside, and his spear drove into Razael's knee. The demon stumbled.

Dean struck his elbow, then his ribs, then the side of his head.

Razael roared and swung wildly.

Dean blocked the first attack, avoided the second, and caught the third against his spear.

He twisted.

The demon's sword flew from his hands.

Razael stared at it.

Dean was already standing in front of him.

The spear struck his chest.

The armor shattered.

Razael dropped to one knee. Dean struck again, and the demon crashed onto his back.

He tried to rise.

Dean pointed the spear at his throat.

Razael breathed heavily.

Then he laughed.

"I surrender."

"And Decanus wins!"

The audience cheered as Razael lowered his head.

Dean looked toward the gates.

There was no time to rest.

Another opponent was already entering.

This one was an angel.

Her armor was white and gold, and six wings spread behind her. A long spear of light appeared in her hand as she stepped onto the battlefield.

The announcer called her Seraphine.

She looked at Dean with neither excitement nor surprise, only respect.

"Decanus."

Dean nodded. "Seraphine."

"I have heard enough."

The bell rang.

She moved.

Dean's eyes widened.

She was fast.

Their spears collided, and the impact sent a burst of light across the arena. Seraphine attacked again, her weapon changing direction in midair as though it were alive.

Dean blocked.

She struck his shoulder.

Dean countered.

She avoided it.

For nearly a minute, neither gained the advantage.

The audience watched quietly.

This was different.

Dean's breathing became heavier.

Seraphine's wings spread wider, and a massive circle of light formed behind her.

Dean looked at it.

"That's troublesome."

"It is."

The circle released dozens of spears made of light.

Dean ran.

The arena exploded around him as the attacks struck the ground. He moved between them, using his physical strength and speed to close the distance.

Seraphine raised her weapon.

Dean was already there.

Their spears collided one final time.

Dean twisted his weapon around hers, disarmed her, and struck her chest. She flew backward, and before she could recover, Dean was standing over her.

She looked up.

Then smiled.

"I surrender."

"And Decanus wins!"

The crowd erupted again.

Dean stood in the center of the arena, breathing hard. His clothes were torn, blood ran down his side, arm, and leg, and his muscles were beginning to feel the accumulated weight of every battle.

Yet he remained standing.

Another gate opened.

Dean stared at it.

The next opponent stepped through.

He was a man Dean had never seen before, dressed in simple black clothing with no weapon at all. The spectators didn't react with surprise, and neither did Dean. He simply raised his spear.

The man smiled.

"Decanus."

Dean sighed.

"Of course."

The bell rang.

They moved at the same time.

The man's fist struck Dean's spear hard enough to bend it.

Dean's eyes narrowed.

Finally.

Someone who could actually break his weapon.

The man attacked again.

Dean blocked, but the impact pushed him backward. He planted his feet and smiled.

This was getting interesting.

He rushed forward.

The final fight of the round had begun.