Unchosen Champion

Safiri set his jaw as he crossed into the glowing ring, solidified determination emanating from each of his steps. Violating the threshold was a clear point of no return, but he hadn’t traveled across the Underlayer, leaving their main army behind, to back down from a challenge of his own making at the last second.

His bare chest was already slicked with sweat from the exertion of his trip, but his breathing was steady and his focus at its peak. He hopped on his toes, dancing back and forth in the dirt. He extended each arm as if further warming up, letting his fists snap in the air as his exhalations hissed. Each punch sounded like a whip cracking in the air: an undeniable threat.

The tape around his knuckles flashed in the illumination of the underground, teasing at the potential velocity of his punches, though a tease was all it was. He would never reveal the full extent of his strength before the bout actually started. He was already in a mental competition with his opponent, but the man’s facial expression was unchanged. He seemed completely neutral to the situation.

Safiri wasn’t the most massive fighter, but there was no doubt that he was among the most powerful in all of Africa, and therefore the world. There was a reason he had been the first sent to individually represent their side. He had the respect of his peers and the ability to send a firm statement to outsiders.

He only wore light athletic shorts, showing off the striations of his muscles beneath his unblemished skin. Thanks to the effect of mana, weight classes were meaningless, but by his judgment, between himself and his opponent, they were pretty even, at least physically.

Safiri was six feet tall, and a feather below 200 pounds, putting him firmly into the cruiserweight category before the assimilation. He was a statuesque example of human physique, sculpted from training before and after mana had activated on Earth.

His opponent was a close enough match, even if he was, at a glance, at least one weight class below, probably two, and built more like a swimmer than a strongman. That didn’t mean Safiri could take him lightly, especially after he repeatedly demonstrated his strength against the monsters. What the man lacked in physical foundation, he made up for with excessive levels.

However, Safiri was also among the highest levels in the world, so the gap wasn’t as extreme as it could have been if he was anyone else. Several hundred stats wouldn’t be a critical difference when it came to an expert fighter like Safiri.

The man that had defeated the alien invaders before he arrived watched him with curiosity, tilting his head to the side, subtly amused rather than threatened. It was an inappropriate response to meeting someone like Safiri as an opponent.

The man’s position within the control point had been a declaration that it was his, but Safiri boldly violated that claim, garnering his interest. The outsider may not have understood the shaky balance that had prevented open conflict between shards on the surface in Africa, but a formal challenge was clear enough. He would obviously have to accept it or otherwise admit his cowardice.

The preliminary cooperative relationships between the different groups around the continent were largely based around simple give and take. In this case, during the Underlayer Event, the order in which they intended to liberate their settlements was predicated upon contributions to the army that would participate in the event itself. However, an outsider had butted in, and had already given some who withheld their solidarity a free ride. That was seen as unacceptable by those groups who willingly sacrificed their strongest for the good of others.

While Safiri and most of the other actual warriors didn’t see themselves as any type of sacrifice, and had no particular interest in what they saw as the petty politics of the old world playing out once again, they still couldn’t just step aside and sit on the sidelines. It was not only their responsibility that was being taken, but also their pride that was being challenged. The leaders who remained on the surface would obviously demand an explanation, and the less that went wrong the better, if for nothing else other than to avoid unnecessary headaches that would come from misunderstandings. Maintaining a loose unity between what seemed like a thousand different groups was naturally complicated and everyone involved was aware.