Chapter 8

As I stepped out to my side of the arena, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. It was pretty obvious that it was a large arena, but it looked even more massive from the inside, and the stands were almost completely full.

My opponent stepped into the arena from the side opposite my entrance. If the name Leary didn't give away his Irish ancestry, then his appearance did: shaggy red hair peeking out from under a metal helmet, a short bushy beard, large blue eyes, and an expression that gave away his congeniality and good nature. Also, in his left hand was his weapon of choice: a large, thick warhammer that was disproportionately large compared to his height, noticeably shorter than mine. His thick arms, however, showed he was more than capable of wielding such a large weapon.

Both of us walked toward the center, where a decrepit old man with a cane was awaiting our arrival.

"There are two rules: first, if you fall off the platform, you're disqualified. Second, if your opponent is dead or unconscious, stop attacking immediately. We pay these medics enough the way it is." The man's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Your fight will begin at the sound of the gong. Are you both ready?"

We both nodded.

"Fine, let's get this match started, then!" The man hobbled over to the large gong in the corner and smacked it with his cane, creating a loud, resonating sound throughout the coliseum.

I pulled off my robes to reveal my sparkling orichalcum armor and Soul Calibur at my side. The crowd erupted with raucous applause as they realized who I was. I had become the favorite to win this fight. I wondered how differently the crowd would have reacted to see Nightmare under that hood.

"So, you're the killer of Nightmare, hm? It's an honor to fight you, but I will win." His warm blue eyes instantly turned to those of a cold-blooded killer as he raised the polished metal warhammer over his head and slammed it to the ground where I had been standing just a split-second before. Leary tipped the hammer up onto the spike at its end and used the head as an anchor to swivel around and land a two-legged kick straight to the breastplate of my armor, sending me a short distance on the ground before I was back to my feet. This armor held up to impact better than I expected – it hadn't even dented.

I held Soul Calibur ready at my side and watched my adversary's movements carefully, ready to dodge and slash. Such a heavy weapon could be thrown off balance if he missed again, and parrying such a heavy weapon was out of the question.

We both simply stood there, each ready to counter the other's attack. Being impatient, I ran toward Leary and feigned a horizontal slash, bur right before the slash, I spun my body into a roundhouse kick. Unfortunately, my opponent was too short, and my leg flew right over his head.

As I regained my balance, I received the warhammer straight to the chest. I felt the armor dent before I flew a great distance, but before I landed, I tucked myself into a back flip and landed on my feet and took off at a dash to the Irishman with Soul Calibur behind me, and when I was in range, I used both hands and swung the sword with all my strength. One leg managed to avoid the brutal attack, but the other was cut clean off just below his knee. It went flying off the platform and landed before the audience with a sickening thwack as it stuck stump-down to the arena floor.

Leary erupted with a howl and the cold eyes he had been wearing until now filled with pain and a fiery rage that was only topped by the Sorel's. With all his might, he swung the hammer horizontally at me. It connected with my left arm, splitting my armor and snapping the bone inside. My scream could be heard throughout the coliseum.

Holding Soul Calibur in my functional right arm, I decided to end this foolishness. I kicked Leary in the stomach to knock him off guard right before I stabbed him in the left side of his chest with Soul Calibur, piercing the plate mail like parchment. The sword could be seen through the other side, covered in blood and gore. I raised both Soul Calibur and Leary in the air with one arm, hooking Leary with the longer blade of the sword, and swung them both around me in a full circle, lifted them over my head, and slammed them to the ground. Leary's head snapped backward as Soul Calibur was forced downward through his ribcage and out his shoulder. His arm was disconnected from his body, save for a strip of skin and muscle hanging off him at his stomach.

"I'd say we have a winner here…" The shriveled old man hoisted himself up onto the platform, this time holding a mop.