Chapter 87: Noble’s Battle
The crowd erupted once more as the second match came to an end, their cheers blending into a deafening roar that filled the entire arena.
Alistair Rhaegis stood at the center of the battlefield, with his obsidian claymore resting against the ground, its massive frame still unmarred despite the brutality of the battle. His opponent—an iron-ranked mercenary known as Garrek the Ironhide—lay sprawled a few feet away, groaning in pain, barely able to push himself up on his elbows. His opponent had been known for his resilience, his nickname earned from the sheer number of blows he could take without faltering. And yet, here he was, utterly dismantled.
Velren exhaled sharply, crossing his arms as he watched from above. This was... ridiculous. His first fight had already been over in a blink that even Velren had missed it entirely, and now his second match had ended just as fast, if not faster. Garrek had barely lasted longer than the first unfortunate mindless creatures who faced Alistair. A hardened mercenary, someone who had survived countless skirmishes and earned a reputation for his endurance, had still been nothing more than an inconvenience before Alistair’s overwhelming might. The gap in strength wasn’t just apparent—it was absurd.
The intercom crackled to life once again, its energetic voice booming across the arena.
"AND THAT MAKES TWO! ALISTAIR RHAEGIS CLAIMS YET ANOTHER SWIFT AND DECISIVE VICTORY! IS THERE ANYONE WHO CAN STAND AGAINST THIS MAN?!"
The crowd responded with thunderous roar, their excitement only growing.
"WITH TWO WINS UNDER HIS BELT, THE YOUNG HEIR OF HOUSE RHAEGIS CONTINUES HIS DOMINANCE IN THE ARENA! BUT THE SHOW’S NOT OVER YET—AS PER THE TERMS OF HIS CHOSEN RULESET, HE WILL FIGHT UNTIL HE FALLS OR UNTIL HE DECIDES TO STEP DOWN!"
The sheer energy of the crowd was infectious, a pulsing wave of cheers and chants that rumbled through the arena. Whether he was getting carried away by the atmosphere or simply curious about the man standing below, Velren found himself unable to look away. Anticipation curled in his chest—how many more fights would Alistair take? How much further could he push before someone actually made him struggle?
The intercom crackled back to life, its voice booming over the restless audience.