Infinitesimal
Finally finished this one. Took...a while.
I hope you enjoy it.
Any and all feedback is appreciated.
Why would they choose a system like this? It made each moment more wearing on his nerves than the last!
Not only that, but they had to be separate, and remain separate until they'd fought. He hoped his chance wouldn't be put off long. He didn't want to miss too much.
What if Faer was hurt, right now? She wasn't a fighter. She could easily die in this.
Yes, there were rules. But what dragon wouldn't be fighting with the intent to kill? He knew he would, or he'd stand no chance at all.
Yet, he could think of at least one who wouldn't fight that way. Rayde stood as much of a chance of killing her opponents as he did of...even winning.
Faer might die.
Or he might.
He might die.
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Bayne sat hard onto the bench in the center of the room. He glanced around for perhaps the sixth time, and nothing had changed. Gray walls, gray ceiling, the cold, stone bench he sat on, and the numerous sets of weights and equipment he hadn't touched.
Did they design these rooms to bore participants?
A nicer room would probably have made this easier. The gloom had surely made it easier to consider the worst case scenarios. Yet, now, he knew that Faer couldn't possibly die in this. Spyro would never allow it. Bayne himself, maybe, but not Faer. Not his granddaughter.
Bayne considered the equipment, but it again held no interest for him. He'd be too shaky to even try it. Surely, he would end up snapping a claw in half, or tearing a hole in one- no, both of his wings. How would he fight then? Or, perhaps, he would pull a muscle or two, or all of them with his luck.
Bayne growled, and shook his head violently. This negativity would only hurt his chances of winning. He needed to get psyched up. He could win.
He'd never truly fought before, but he had been trained. Maybe he would get lucky. To fight Rayde, Agalia, or even Kaja would probably be easy. If he fought the sexist bastard, he'd be lucky if he didn't break the one rule that guided this tournament. He knew that was one match-up he stood zero chance of losing.
And yet, any of the other eleven and he may as well forfeit. They were all larger than him, stronger than him, and surely more experienced.
Bayne's eyes snapped toward the door. It clicked slowly open, a sound caused by the small piece of metal attacked to the bottom of the door running over ridges carved into the floor.
A young dragon, one who couldn't have been more than ten years, stuck his head in the door. "Mister, um, Bayne?"
He nodded curtly.
"We're...they're ready for you. Now."
Bayne stood quickly. "Already?"
"Yes. It's the first match."
Bayne closed his eyes. "Thank you...I'm ready."
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As the words of the announcer faded into silence, the wood separating Bayne from the arena slid upward. It took only seconds before it reached his eyes and he could see out. At his escort's urging, he stepped out into the dim sunlight, and looked upon his opponent. And he smiled.
Before him stood the only dragon he hadn't considered for being his opponent. The same one Faer had mentioned several times that was even smaller than him. If size was going to be his advantage, he'd need a way to capitalize on it.
They each stopped, after approaching the center, about fifteen feet apart. The dragon made eye contact with him and it seemed, for a moment, that Bayne could have reached into the dragon's eyes and grabbed hold of his own paw within. With their yellow-white tinge, Bayne wasn't sure if they were diseased or not.
The dragon greeted him, "Best of luck, Bayne. I look forward to this."
"Thank you. I wish you luck as well," he paused, "Gin?"
Gin nodded. "Glad you remember." He grinned at him. "An opponent should always know the name of the one who defeats him."
Bayne smiled back. "I'm hardly the best competition for you. Even my mate would probably put up a better fight." He chuckled to himself, only hoping that Gin would not find it provoking.
"And thus concludes our pleasantries. Shall we begin?"
Bayne watched as Gin dropped into a low crouch, waiting for him to be prepared. It was then, of course, that Bayne realized why the crowd far above his head had been silent. By all accounts, the fight had started as soon as they entered the door. Had this completely escaped him and he'd been attacked right off, it might have ended before it began.
Bayne confidently planted his back feet, and brought his head close to the ground. He breathed in. He needed to be calm, and wait. Bayne blinked, and when he opened his eyes, Gin was within five feet of him.
He sprang forward, and hit Gin head-on with his chest. It knocked the breath out of him, as Gin still pushed forward and sent Bayne back.
Wonderful. Sprawled on his back, with Gin still bearing down on him. Bayne knew he was at a disadvantage: he wouldn't be able to to avoid him completely, and he could hardly fight back in this position.
Quickly, he rocked forward and tucked in his head and forelegs. He listened. When Gin seemed close enough, Bayne swung his tail upward, hoping to lad a blow on his neck or chin. It was pinned down before it could leave the ground.
Bayne knew that a hard blow was coming next- and he thought of how he might avoid it.
He uncurled, throwing his back against the ground and leaving Gin to swipe his claws through empty space. As soon as his body would allow him, Bayne kicked his back legs upward, knocking Gin to the side while he was still off balance.
Bayne rolled away from Gin, and carefully drew up into a defensive position facing him. He rapidly surveyed the arena as a whole. No rocks or natural bumps marred the ground. He would assume that, when they built this stadium, they brought the dirt in that made up the floor. But he didn't have time for speculation.
Bayne focused his attention on Gin. Surprisingly, he was standing again, and gazing at Bayne with a fiery intensity. He could see that, this time, Gin wasn't going to make the first move. So, he reasoned, why wait?
Bayne fell into a position to run. He had to act quickly, as Gin would surely prepare to intercept him- and that little dragon was strong, stronger than he.
Both sets of his legs hunched, and he lowered his head just so, as to protect his eyes. Then, Bayne sent a ripple of electricity through his muscles. He could feel the tendrils touch every nerve. Even now, after so many years taking advantage of it, it felt odd within his body. He wondered, for a moment, if he could be damaging himself with it.
He shook the thought from his head. Now wasn't the time. All he needed to know about it was that it let him move and react faster. That's what he needed. The slight field of electricity that connected him to the ground was a side-effect, but even if it served no purpose it looked cool.
In moments, Bayne had launched forward and covered nearly all of the distance between them. Bayne lowered his head farther, aiming his horns for both of Gin's shoulders. And still, Gin made no move.
They bit through scale, and sank deep into flesh. And, to his surprise, he didn't stop until the top of his head was resting against Gin's chest. Blood welled up from the wounds, and ran in small trickles down Bayne's horns.
"As expected," Gin affirmed.
Bayne moved to respond, but was cut short as Gin spat a spray of icy needles into the center of his back. He convulsed and fell limp, with his horns holding him up, and tearing a deeper gash into Gin's shoulders.
Carefully and respectfully, Gin stepped back, allowing Bayne's horn to slip out. Gin looked around until his eyes met with the announcer's.
"I feel we're done," he called out into the silence of the arena, "He won't be getting up on his own."
The announcer looked to Spyro, who gave a slight nod before jumping down into the arena. He strode over to Bayne, then toward Gin. He smiled at him, and shouted, "The first match's victor is Gin!"
For the first time since they'd stepped out, the crowd began to cheer.
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"Bayne...Bayne!" He knew this voice. "It's done. They've already heal you...us." Gin.
Bayne convulsed, and his eyes snapped open.
He groaned softly and began to pull himself upright. "What was that?"
"It's over," Gin replied, "They're waiting for us before they start the next match."
"I...you won?"
Gin nodded. "If you hadn't given me so much time to prepare, it would have lasted longer."
"You acted like that didn't even hurt," Bayne laughed.
"Oh, it did. But I knew it would be worth it. Why else would I have moved to make you go so far in? You just...left yourself so open."
Bayne shook his head, mumbling, "Masochist." Then, louder he asked, "They are waiting for us?"
"Since you weren't very hurt, they felt you'd wake up soon. Come on, there's a section set aside for us." Gin turned, and Bayne took the moment to look around. They were definitely beneath the stadium. He was laid out in an alcove off of the hall that led down to the room he had been in earlier. Since Gin had headed up, they were probably expected to go into the stands.
Bayne pushed up onto his feet, and walked up beside Gin. "What exactly, ah, did you do to me?"
"Oh, just, pierced some nerves in your spine."
"Y-you what?"
"They healed you. It was the fastest way to end it, especially in that situation. I couldn't let you pull out, I'd have probably bled out in a few minutes of trying to defend myself, or fight back."
"It felt like I was dying," he admitted, "I could, for a little while, still hear. But I couldn't feel a thing, or move at all. How long was I out for?"
"Only about ten minutes."
Bayne nodded. "Good." They reached the doors at the top, and Bayne stepped forward, opening them for Gin. "After you, victor."
Bayne followed closely behind him, blinking in the brighter light.
On seeing Gin, members of the crowd began to shout and cheer, and it redoubled once Bayne came through.
Those on either side of them, the ones he could understand the words of, called out the positives and negatives.
"Great job!"
"Pitiful!"
"Welcome back!"
"Nicely done, just standing around!"
"Get out! Loser!"
He shrugged it off. Why should he care? He lost. He was done. But he'd get to watch every other match. Maybe, surely, he could help Faer a bit by learning about her competition in the later rounds- well, if she made it.
Then, the announcer began to talk into the great cone that rested at the front of his platform. "Our next fight will begin in only a few moments. Our next two combatants are...from the north door of the arena, Rayde! And from the south door...Ryoth!"
Bayne grinned. Faer had taken a few minutes to point out Ryoth to Rayde and Raymond, and tell them about their experiences with him. Rayde...well, he had no faith in her winning, but he sure hoped she would. And, perhaps, tear that bastard a new one.
Bayne snickered aloud, and, whether he meant to or not, sat about two feet from Gin on their bench. As expected, they'd given them the whole front row.
