Chapter 3: Battle Royal

A week had passed by since the sign ups had started, the quota filled and closed within the next day. Thanking the Lady of Noxus that he not only did sign up but had the stand not too far away was something that brought an additional benefit for him. Mostly the fact that it did not take anything out of his intensive training schedule to actually do so as well was a good point in his books. With the competition to be held today, the man did forsake some of his morning routine to ensure that if he was called up, that he would be in his best position. The only thing he did do was just the morning jog, getting warmed up was the general idea thus for one of the few times since he had considered his training regime, a number of people would see him without his armour. Considering his pose, breathing and most importantly, timing, there were little few that would be doing the same as this man did, thus a few more eyes did scan him on his run down.
Though considering how long he has been doing this for, none were really surprised to see just how massive he had grown through the years in terms of sheer muscular bulk. Those that did not know how hard he trained would probably call out on suspicion of magical interference, to enhance him. Though, such a craft was unknown to most wizards and Ratis would most likely have better things to spend said money on rather than underhanded methods with potential drawbacks to them.

Despite his mind flaying him for only doing so little, in contrast to the actual, regular training he typically performs. The man would simply wander the barracks, it was still mid-morning and the competition was to be held later on, the signal for people to start gathering was the barracks lifting the flag with the Noxian crest on it. Subtle but at least there was not a major fan fare which would have just been silly. Considering the amount of people ready and willing to partake in the fight, word would easily start to spread and leave en masse. The only issue he had was, that his lack of action lead him to start thinking about the words spoken to him, courtship? Friends? Such notions seemed, were silly to him. All he needed was the ability to crack a jaw with a single blow and crush the trachea in another.
Was that not what the Noxian culture was about? Simply rise up and dominate, rise to a challenge, fight your way up until you can not do so any further. Eventually, one must also do the reverse, they have to keep their position and not lose to the challenger. This leads to most people not being brought in and simply obtaining rank through Blue blood but through their own will, power and ability. Respect did not come with being born with it, it came by beating it out of people who would sneer at you.

"Psh, the need of a woman is merely to produce and bring a strong child of Noxus anyway. I have a number of years left for something like that." he would mumble, shaking his head of the train of thought that had been running around in his mind. The man found himself at the outer-edge of the barracks. Normally, at dusk or night, some troop would bring their lovers here, apparently having one of the best semi-public views in all of Noxus. The best being told by some whom were requested to the Grand General that allowed one to see the outer half of Noxus from just one balcony, part of the rumor was also that the stench of the moat did not go so high, thus allowing for fresh air to come in great supply to the more privileged few within the ranks. While the moat did keep enough of the gas down within it, the wafting warmer airs did allow it to seep into the nose of the general public. While most had gotten used to it, it would be nice to not have to worry about it ever again at all. His hand, going out to curl around the tattered stone railing, it was going to hold for years to come, assuming no one was kicked through it though. The large number of bustling people could be seen from this point alone, at least for those whom were above ground.
At times, it was a bit hard to consider that this land had, possibly, the best army on the continent. The Demacians at their heels, obviously, thus not allowing for much rest in terms of potential warfare development and innovation. Thankfully, not many fumes coated the sky, mostly that of bakers, blacksmiths and workers from the port burning refuse from ships that docked but had rotten supplies. allowing for the gentle Spring breeze to allow a warm, southerly wind to wash over the city. A series of joyous cries and mobile people caught his curiosity. "The flag's up! Let's hurry least they call out one of the guys we know." a voice said behind him. With two fellows walking along each other, breaking out into a jog, Ratis sighed and made his way to the training grounds.

Looking at them from a distance, he could not quite even recognize the area, as it was never in all his life (or memory) ever so populated. The open fields would make it ideal for such an event, a small, yet notable area that held the only seats within visual range were most likely for any VIP's that decided to turn up. The seats, containing the typical green and gold colours of Noxus looked tempting enough even for Ratis to picture himself on one. Not imagining instead of someone as such things would be possibly borderline treason, least he managed it through legitimate means. The crowd seemed to be divided, with himself on the wrong side. Looking at all the common folk and soldiers that comprised of the onlookers, he would shuffle his way through them and unto the other side. While there was no actual 'stage' for the fighting to take place, there were multiple guards keeping a wide circle between the people and the eventual contenders. Budding grass was all that protected one from the solid earth under, thus fights would allow each person to feel the full force and have little to no support if such a thing were to happen. It was pretty rushed-looking seeing how seriously Noxus takes matters of Strength though.
Yet no one really seemed to complain and for the most part people would just enjoy the fact that there was going to be a show that they expected, to be on several layers of epic considering that there were a number of people inclined to training on the Noxian manner of martial arts. It was simple, yet effective. Cripple enemies and rend them unable to fight back. Some masters of the art have been known to even cause Hydrostatic shock. Effectively, applying such a harsh amount of pressure that the water within the tissues of the muscles destroys the surrounding cells thus causing potential crippling or even death if hit on the neck or head. Yet such stories were merely stories, he was never one to quite believe something until he saw it or it was just seemingly obvious.

Only a few minutes after he got into his presumed place, did the Grand General show himself. A loud series of cheers and applause welcomed him, Ratis merely clapped out of pure obligation. He did not lack any form of respect towards the man who bested the opposing General. Though the manner as to how was something that did cross his mind. A tactician, yes, though if what he heard was true, that he actually vanished and came back again moments later, it was hard to believe. He did not see his fighting capabilities though, thus he left it open. Standing on the podium where the seats were, Swain would raise his hands to silence the crowd, "My fellow Noxians. Excuse my belated appearance!" he would call out to them, "I had intended on returning sooner, yet, the Institute always finds ways of making one late for appointments." the charismatic speech would proceed, outlining that this was solely a 'friendly' event, something to let each Noxian show their own potential. The rules were simple, fists and feet only, no outright murder. A win is gained only through forced submission of the opponent or a knock-out lasting ten seconds.
Ratis, while he was listening, he was looking more at the man speaking himself, he held an unsettling look in his eye. It was not something a person could look up to and simply say, 'I wanna be like him!' but then again, wishing to be the tactician whom killed his own soldiers and enemies in a chemical bombardment and strives not to only keep the ways of Noxus within the city-state but looks for any means to spread it, is bound to be someone unsettling to look at, let alone deal with.

"The draws were selected prior to my arrival. Thus, the first two are, Ratis De'Terenu against Yules Rokvit. Place yourself within the ring." he would command, sitting down. Ratis would push his way through the blocking people, nodding at the guard, he would pass and face Swain. Moments after, a similar looking fellow would also do the same. Looking at his opponent, the man was not too much of a threat based off of looks alone. Though the scars lining his face and arms were impressive, he would not ask where he got them from, though it seemed like as if fighting was quite the part of activities that he partook in. Standing at shoulder-height of Ratis, the flat, black hair would trail down to a compact forehead, thin eyebrows and hazelnut eyes. A soft jawline but visibly jagged, evidently his face has been beaten around a number of times. Wearing no armour, simply casual looking dark green top and trousers, they both were dressed to allow no inhibition in their movements. He would think a bit more highly of the enemy, had he not the stench of alcohol.

After bowing to swain, Ratis would simply use his heels to turn himself to his opponent. "Start!" Taking a quick hop back, Ratis would ease out the tension within the air around him. His muscles becoming more loose fluid, the noise drowning out as he focused only on his enemy. Achieving a mental state where he sees the man ahead of him as nothing more than an enemy. That is all that mattered to him. Thus, he would start to take his own stride back on towards him. His movements had purpose, reason, that was to complete a final objective. Defeat the weak. Seeing Ratis close the gap, his opponent took up stance, as expected. This is where Ratis thanked himself for taking it upon him for coming up with his own means and methods of beating others into the earth, rather than go by the book. The other's fist came flying at his face, leaning his body to the left, the opposite shoulder took the impact and in retaliation, his right hand would grasp over the elbow, leaving the side exposed to allow him to follow through with a palm-strike to the kidneys. Obviously, this left his own side open, to which the other had tried to simply pummel away at his ribs. Enduring it, as he knew proceeding with his plan would secure a win, he forced his mind to numb out the pain. If anything, the added strikes were merely adding to his focus. Transforming the pain and irritation into further, solid, determination, there was nothing the other would do to distract the man.
A tug on the arm twisted the other to the side, letting Ratis slip further to the flank.
An unexpected pull downwards caught the opponent off guard as even Ratis himself went low for a moment, only to leap up and drive his knee into the side yet again, being kept from turning around with the constant flow of movements. While in mid air, the left arm would raise to the fullest and upon landing, drive the elbow to the top of the man's skull. In the moment that it was forced down, the massive arm wrapped around the back of the neck, secured in the crook of the arm and the other hand pushing up on the arm to further tighten the hold. Bearing his weight down on the bent man, the will to stay up was irritating him, thus he reversed his movement, heaving him up, despite the size, for a moment to be able to get his feet off of the ground, now the body just about horizontal in the air, Ratis would drop down to the side, allowing his own bulk of the ribs to crash down on his opponent's face. Resting all his weight into the fall, there was a silencing crack. Silence struck the crowd, even the Grand General himself arched a brow. Yet, Ratis proceeded on, knowing full well what he had done was not fatal. He merely shattered the jaw with his strength. Thus, he would continue by taking advantage of that opening, standing up and grabbing the right arm, he would see the bones jotting about and poking at the skin under the cheek and jawline, with a stern face, his heel rose up, eyes watering from the shock of the impact, let alone the fact that there was more to come seemed to be enough trauma for the man. "GIEF!" the foot slammed down on it, crack. The loose fragments of bone now also broken off and the ones already off, shattered further.

Seeing that the man was alive, the crowd cheered at the obvious winner. Some additional people came to take Yules onto a stretcher and pull him off, "Well, Ratis De Tere'nu, an impressive show of strength and determination to carry out your actions despite the blows you were taking." Swain would point out, bemused that the pain still held no reaction, the expression was blank and cold for the fight. Breathing was an irritating task but it must be done, "Had I not followed through, Victory may not have been mine." he stated, "I take your words to heart, sir." bowing to him, he would turn to leave.

"Wait, who said we were done yet?", if the cloth was not covering his face, one would easily view the gargantuan smile on his face."There is more still to come, do not think for a moment that you only have one fight? This competition is a test of your strength!" once again, resorting to a theatrical tone, Ratis would keep his stony expression, turning to Swain, "Then I have only one additional thing to say, Sir Grand General."

"Next!"