Chapter 7
I sat in the highest row of galleries in my gray robes, trying not to get myself noticed before the tournament started. The armor underneath was so smooth that it was impossible to tell I was wearing it.
There were thirty-six contestants in the tournament. I was seeded, so I was free to watch the tournament's first round without having to fight my way through. The tournament officials had hired the area's best doctors to salvage whatever was left of the losers and to best heal the winners for their next match.
Ivy was in the first match. As the only woman competing, everyone in the arena ridiculed her, including her opponent, a tall, large man wielding a wicked-looking black scimitar with a tiger pattern on the blade. His moves were just as quick as you would expect the tigers on the blade to be, but he had no chance of besting Ivy's unique fighting style. With a few choice whips and slashes, he was on his way to the medic room.
Lying back against the wall, I saw each match: some insanely one-sided, whereas others were taking their toll on each combatant. One match ended in a double knockout when one made a badly timed tackle of their opponent and got a dagger in the eye before crushing his opponent's ribcage. Still, there was no sign of the man who brought me here.
After the first round, the quarterfinals began. I went to the waiting room still in my robe. I pulled the hood down as I quietly entered and sat next to Ivy.
"Where did you learn to fight like that? That was amazing--"
Suddenly, an arena official burst into the room. "Is there an Isabella Valentine here?"
Ivy stood up. "That would be me."
When the man turned to Ivy, he instantly turned scarlet and quickly averted his gaze to the scroll he was holding. "It says here you've been moved to the semifinals by default. Your opponent has left the tournament to look for…the slut that stole his son's clothes?" One eyebrow went up. "Regardless of the cause, you're in."
Ivy's expression was pure shock. "…Thank you, sir."
The man's eyes flew from the scroll to her breasts and back to the scroll. After attempting to roll up the scroll without dropping it more than once, he made a quick bow, bade her good luck, and left the waiting room. A few seconds later, he peeked his head back in and called, "Quarterfinals Match Two is about to begin! That's Schtauffen versus Leary!"