"Welcome back PEOPLLLLEE!"
The crowd exploded in cheers and whistles.
"My GOODNESS! Are you all excited from yesterday? If you are, make some NOIIIISE!"
The crowd's roar replied to the request.
"Oh hoho, I knew you were, as am I. What will he bring in the third round? His actions will speak louder than words. Ladies and gentlemen of all races—OSWALD JAAACK!"
Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.
He smiled and waved to the audience above the high wall of the fighting ground.
"In the other corner—fire is his PASSION. Fire is his RAGE. Fire is what he INSTRUCTS and fire is in his NAME. Please stand up for Thorne IRONFLAAAAAME!"
What?! I'm facing him!
The burly fire instructor strode to the middle where Oswald stood, his orange and red battleaxes—sheathed behind his back—glistened under the sun.
The two met at the center of the arena.
"H-Hello there, Mr. fire instructor."
"Heh. No time for pleasantries. Show me, candle, how you fare against the sun?"
Oswald readied his sword. "Yes, sir!"
I gotta be serious, can't joke around him.
"Good." The burly instructor released his battleaxes from his back. "I hope you trained before your arrival."
Trained? I just came after eating good elven food.
"By the looks, you haven't."
Wow! Read me like a book.
"Well… I would love to excuse, but... in front of you, I can't."
A smile crossed his beard. "Very good. You understand my tutelage well."
Oswald sheepishly nodded.
Nope, I'm pissing my pants here… Metaphorically, of course.
DING!
CLANK!
The burly instructor dashed toward him, Oswald blocked one of the axes.
What?! What spee—
The second axe slashed side-ways toward his head.
With all his might, he shoved the first axe away—WHOOSH—neck jolted back to dodge the second, a hair's length away. He staggered a few steps back.
Damn I—
The instructor brought both of his axes down, few meters away before he blinked.
SHIT!
He blocked the axes—and yet.
IT WENT THROUGH MY SWORD!
Like a knife through butter, the axes sliced through his sword.
WHOOSH! THUD!
Oswald barely dodged out of the way as the axes slammed the ground, clouding the instructor in dust. He looked at the stump in his hand.
"Well, grea—"
The instructor already stood before him, bringing his axe down.
WHOOSH!
Oswald side-stepped the first, the second one coming right after.
FUCK! TOO SLOW!
CLANK!
He caught the axe with his gauntlet-covered hands, gritting his teeth—the iron plate on his palm shattered on impact.
The weight transitioned him from standing to kneeling.
Damn! Look at him. He means… BUSINESS!
He shoved the axe upward and rolled clear, grabbing a handful of sand as he went.
"Alright teach—"
The instructor slashed one of the axes diagonally before Oswald's sentence could end.
WHOOSH!
He dodged the first.
How are you gonna hit me…
He clenched his fist, trickles of sand seeping through his fingers.
WHOOSH!
When you can't SEE!
The sand splashed on the instructor's face, blinding him as he grunted.
"… I don't have a cool line to SAY!"
THUD!
Oswald punched the side of the instructor's face, but it didn't move an inch.
CRACK!
The sound came from the arm he punched with.
"AHH!"
He doubled over, intense pain shot through his shattered arm, dangling by his side like a marionette. He gritted his teeth, a groan escaped him.
"This is… way worse than— AH! A goblin's… club."
Oh no, the pain… It's getting to my head.
He looked up at the standing instructor—his face getting blurry.
"Hey mister… instructor. What a… an amazing… figh— Ah!"
The pain enveloped his entire self, tears fell in a steady flow from his eyes.
"I think…" He inhaled through his nose. "I feel… light-headed…"
The strings were cut and he fell, pain sending him to unconsciousness.
The instructor caught him before he hit the ground, his eyes closed.
"Hm. Handled an overpowered scenario with a counter strategy. Despite everything…" He opened his eyes. "…the fire within him is still small."
* * *
ns216.73.216.66da2
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