A short Sky Warrior wearing pink feathers with occasional clashing colors to provide a more vibrant appearance hovered with her tiny artificial wings stretched as far as they went. From the side, it appeared as if the shorty was gliding by riding air currents though her movements betrayed the girl in her early teens to be swimming through mid-air and sustaining her hover through active effort since her feathery cloak wasn't wide enough.
"Fight me, old man!" the perky brat demanded from a tall and broad-shouldered, completely hairless veteran wearing a plain, white oriental long coat. The man, lacking any semblance of hair, facial, brow, or otherwise, carried himself in a respectable stance of a straight back and head held high. He positioned his thick forearms parallel to one another behind his back, which gave the man an aura of competence. It was as if he didn't need the use of his arms to destroy his opponents.
"Excuse me?" the veteran martial artist opened his eyes and turned to the flapping and struggling to stay afloat girl in a bird outfit.
"Fight me, I'll kill you," the girl proclaimed in a cutesy voice, pulling out a knife carved out of the hollowed-out bone of a massive sky creature and thrusting it at the face of her new acquaintance. Without visible effort, the martial artist leaned to the sides, avoiding the short-arm thrusts that may have missed him even if he hadn't moved at all due to how short the girl's arms were. It wasn't as if she was completely hopeless, as, despite lacking reach and much skill, her sheer speed was putting the martial artist's reflexes and agility to an adequate test.
"I am Butofa, a master of the Art Fist fighting style. In my settlement, we do not fight children to the death like in less civilized countries, we teach and discipline them," Master Butofa explained after carefully navigating around the fruitless assault of the pink-feathered girl. Despite her threatening disposition and visible attempts at his life, her childish voice and blushed cheeks that matched the color of the feathers she donned made the old master smile as he danced around this petite pest. "These are some impressive feathers you've collected."
Having become too invested in sticking the old, fit man with the other end of her hollowed bone knife, the pink-feathered girl found herself lacking the motions devoted to keeping her afloat and thus landed on her feet. She grumbled upon touching the ground with her leathery boots decorated with sewn-together chick feet. Almost immediately, the girl kicked up and shot into the air. Though, with the old martial arts master leaning aside, she overshot him and soared well over and above his head. This left her with no other choice but to try to cut the martial artist with her clawed boots that had hooked quills of hollow bones, albeit with less craftsmanship compared to her pocket weapon.
"I didn't collect them like some forager! I earned them by plucking them from my prey!" the girl with blushed cheeks and a cute childish nose barked, artificially making her voice sound more gravely to make her sound more threatening and masculine even if the massive beak forming her cowl only obstructed the top of her head and left her cheeks and her chin fully exposed.
A hummingbird feather, I wonder?" the old man wondered, dancing around the girl while catching or deflecting her kicks, stomps, and thrusts to harmlessly slip around him.
"That's right, geezer! Scared now? I'll kill you!" the girl barked out, figuring she had found an opening as she glided above the veteran martial artist with her wings spread as wide as she could expand them. Her flight was meant to shut off any possibility of evasion or retreat. Despite her impressive dive, it was as if the old man simply blinked away and moved a handful of steps away from the location of their clash.
"Why would I be afraid of someone who hunts hummingbirds?" the old man wondered, paying the vicious hatchling little mind as he observed the brewing battlefield and the boiling bouts to his east with worry. Many fighters were growing weary, and more still were getting careless and forgetting about their safety, focusing all on their offense and investing everything into making sure they eliminate as many opponents as possible rather than survive themselves.
"Do you have any idea how long do you have to fly from the Sky Country to find hummingbirds!? It's a suicidal trip, to top it off, their meat isn't even worth the odyssey," the girl growled having landed on the ground again while venting her frustrations. "No one hunts them but me. No one studied the movements of the hummingbird as I did. Everyone studies hawks, crows, and falcons, but the hummingbird, the hummingbird, is truly mine!"
"I see, I'm sorry, little girl. As I've said, I do not intend to fight you and I don't imagine stabbing a defenseless old man would do your honor as a budding warrior many favors. If you wish for a challenge, you may challenge that conqueror woman over there…" Master Butofa turned to a woman rampaging to his right, swinging strands of hair tied around chakram blades, slashing with scimitars, and commanding a tiger much larger than any Master Butofa had seen.
"Conqueror?" with a twitching left eye, the passionate warrior scuffling beside a tiger turned around, giving a handful of ninja she had cornered and nearly defeated a moment's reprieve which was more than they needed to retreat to safety and hide from the wrath of the rampant as she was boisterous warrior dressed only in a dress that extended from her waist down to her heels and brass armor protecting her chest and shoulders as well as decorated golden gauntlets. "You dare compare a Salvari warrior to those scourge brutes? I'm not a scornful soul, in fact, I'm rather soft on toothless weaklings and sniveling cowards alike, but the venom dripping from your tongue makes me want to carve it out!"
"Ah… I apologize, ma'am," Master Butofa pressed his clenched right fist to his open left palm and bowed respectfully in apology. "I merely couldn't tell you were a local Salvari from the clear lack of mustache. Your peers are so very endowed with exotic and exuberant facial hair, after all…"
"What did you say…?" the warrior woman shrieked with a tanned complexion that was quickly turning boiling red. "I… My mustache… I…" the rare woman amongst the Salvari became flustered almost immediately after she was close to blowing up at the old martial arts master. "For your information, women can't grow mustache nearly as well as men! It's perfectly normal!"
Proclaiming such, the Salvari woman lashed out with scornful violence, thrusting a bladed trishula staff in Master Butofa's direction. With an expression twisted in sheer terror, Master Butofa leaned aside, avoiding the thrust of the trishula. The Salvari woman danced with a high-pitched battle cry, twirling around and making her red and golden dress spin like a blooming flower ring. Her armed hair danced as well, equipped with chakram, the locks blitzed and made the old man vault backward with a desperate series of vaults. Not being one to let go of an opponent, the Salvari woman flung her scimitar over her head and drew a handful of throwing knives from under the brass chain cloak which she imbued with chakra coating and flung at the martial arts master.
Squinting and fumbling over himself, Master Butofa fell flat on his rear, turning his head up and gazing upon the passing throwing knives as they just narrowly missed him. Then the master cried out in a desperate plight for time off once again, as, roaring like a thunderstorm, with blood in its eyes, rearing its forearm-size fangs, the ferocious beast under the Salvari's command pounced over him. Butofa shuffled backward, swimming with his arms and legs. Not achieving enough distance, Butofa had to spread his legs to avoid the beast crushing his crotch with a paw stamp that slammed with enough weight to smash the tile set of the arena and spew debris in all directions. Turning around and coughing from the dust of destruction, Butofa regained his balance and took a fighting stance.
"My, my… It seems I must defend myself or I might get killed…" Master Butofa sighed and panted, having just avoided a ferocious onslaught from the scorned Salvari woman.
"Your cowardly dancing as you struggle for your life is amusing. Then again, I've never met a foul-mouthed viper who isn't sly and elusive when it comes to staying alive as well," the Salvari woman pointed the tip of her chakra-coated trishula staff.
"For the last time, I wasn't aware that your natural lack of mustache was such a sensitive topic," Master Butofa squinted his eyes and spoke in a higher-pitched voice than usual, trying to avoid a scuffle of life and death where it wasn't necessary.
"And yet you bring it up again, right after finding out about it!" the Salvari woman bawled, charging at him by moving her free hand behind her back and pulling out a shield that used to protect her rear but now provided a frontal shell to assist her trishula-focused skewering assault. Her tiger rumbled and charged by his master's side, blazing with a fiery-red aura of living, ethereal Fire Release armor.
"Ah, indeed I have, sorry…" Butofa lost his focus for just a moment to apologize to his hyper-sensitive and insecure opponent, only to be stunned by the blinding speed of the flaming tiger. The martial arts master quickly resumed his form, realizing his folly. The long black hair of his opponent shot for him once again, her locks wrapped around chakram blades raced in a curved inward trajectory, prompting a quick duck from the veteran martial artist.
Bouncing off the ground completely revitalized, Butofa shot a high kick with both his legs, morphing his jumping body into a makeshift V-shape. The Salvari warrior turned sideways, letting both of his kicks miss her, before turning around in a swift twirl and leaving a bloody gash at the waist of the stunned martial artist as her turning locks slashed him clean with the attached chakram rings. Powering through the chilling pain spreading through his whole body, Butofa landed and immediately wound his open palm back for a powerful thrust to the Salvari's chin, but iron jaws locked around his wrists.
"The tiger!?" Butofa exclaimed, realizing that the hefty beast had been staying still after blitzing right past him to blindside him just like he had done.
The Salvari warrior let out a battle cry, adopting a one-legged, elegant sword-fighting stance as she switched to two scimitars. Her movements were so deadly and swift that in some instances it appeared as if she had countless arms, all of which wielded a blade and swung to eviscerate, disembowel or decapitate. In the final moments before the flashy assault, Butofa wrestled for control over his wrist but soon found this to be a fruitless venture as the tiger withdrew only when his mistress had lost herself in the rampage, splitting apart all within the reach of her rampant blades.
A stout push kick sent the warrior woman skidding back as her blurry array of arms all collided into a single pair again, which crossed in front of her chest to absorb the coming blow. As she was reeling from the considerable blow, the once goddess of the arena gazed with respect and moderate shock at the bulky old man who stood before her lacerated and injured, but none of his injuries seemed more grievous than the graze of a tiger's claws.
"Impressive, martial artist. You wield dharma like the finest amongst the Salvari and know how to coat your entire body with it to avoid harm. There is no doubt even the mightiest of men would have been cut to ribbons just now," the Salvari woman noted, raising her left leg, bending it by the knee, and pulling it up to assume a flamingo-like stance. With a flick of her hands, her twin scimitars vanished into puffs of smoke, sealed away into sealing glyphs underneath her armor.
"Dharma? That must be what you Salvari call chi… If only my coat could amplify itself with chi as well…" Butofa exhaled, losing some of the swelling red in his tense muscles and the notable tension that bulked his body up in the face of peril. The daring Fire Release armor tiger snarled and reared its fangs but didn't dare approach the adamantine man who moved around to check if he could still fight in his coat being nearly chopped up like it was, with one strong flex of his muscles, he tore the sliced strips of his rags to shreds. This way, he revealed a fortified body covered with scars and burns from grueling training exercises long forgotten by the body they've built up.
"Together, Torabanga!" the Salvari warrior ordered her tiger. The majestic beast leaned down, ready to pounce as flames surrounded its body and made it nigh impossible to tell the fur from the blaze burst to their limit.
The two colliding forces dashed against each other, the second–accompanied by its trusted bestial partner. The Salvari warrior took it to the air, clapping her hands and triggering the hidden sealing glyphs underneath her gauntlets to call forth a black and gold metallic club defined by a spherical head with a spike on top. Before the goddess of the arena could raise hell with her mace, Butofa vanished and appeared before the woman. This way, the speedy warrior bypassed the reach and the devastating destructive power of the Salvari's mace.
A soaring kick rang the jaw of the Salvari woman, rendering her look blank for a second, while the Butofa unleashed a spinning flurry of fists so rapid that his arms completely vanished from the elbow down. Only resounding thuds and crunchy noises emanating from the cracking bones of his opponent and her collapsing armor betrayed Butofa's strikes. The finishing touch of the combination came with an elbow slam to the gut, which made the Salvari woman drop senseless and in her numbness let go of the mace.
Flaming, Torabanga, the tiger, came in from behind Butofa. The tiger's vehement aura had become the shape of a colossal tiger head with tiny suns shimmering for eyes. The colossal blaze of the tiger head construct roared with the noise of scorching hellfire as it came toward Butofa, but the stalwart martial artist repositioned himself and kicked off a cushion of an air pocket to soar with a dive kick straight to the eye of the firestorm. The noise of crashing swallowed up the pitiful whine of the wounded beast as Torabanga slammed into the tiles in its personal crater.
Butofa's eyes raced behind him, where the Salvari warrior had recovered from her daze and rushed to the aid of her kindred bestial spirit. Unable to turn around and react in time to her mixed attack swinging a one-armed golden ax and a scimitar in a chopping frenzy, the veteran martial artist moved without turning, flipping his entire body without full sight of his opponent. Butofa's body became fluid like water, but his foot crashed with the full force and clamor of a tidal wave too. The magnificent martial artist flipped to the front, sending his opponent flying once more. With both his forearms locked behind his back, Butofa swooped into the air once more.
Appearing before his stunned opponent in a single stoop, Butofa gently thrust his knuckles to the exposed and undefended vital points of his opponent before swatting her aside with a roundhouse. Just as Butofa was about to land, he felt the gentle jabs of electricity poking with hot miniature needles through the pore of his skin. In a flash, the entire area sank in a vicious lightning storm, as a mound-sized lion with a mane of thunderous storm clouds let out a terrifying roar from behind Butofa. Yet another beast under his opponent's employ, while Butofa may have dealt with the flaming tiger, this beast appeared much larger and more capable of seeding large-scale catastrophe.
Riding the thunderclap, the colossal lion pounced at Butofa in a reckless charge, but the martial artist responded with a high-lashing kick so flexible and swift that his calf completely vanished without a trace. This time it was Butofa who caused the thunder by kicking the charging tiger away. In mid-air, the tiger became just an electrical storm that blitzed away and reassembled by the side of his impressive mistress, who hopped on top of its head and pointed forward with a curved one-handed crescent scythe. The tiger moved like a strident thunderbolt pillar, but Butofa kicked off into a flying kick that answered the lion's thunderous charge. A vibrant teal glow emanated from the topless mound of muscle that was Master Butofa's body.
"He neutralized Raikaliba's dauntless charge?" the Salvari woman gasped in surprise. Little by little, she and her animal partners were becoming overpowered by the experience and insurmountable skill of the master martial artist.
"My chi, or dharma as you would call it, is that of the Wind Style. As such, it neutralizes your beast's Lightning Style chi strike," the martial arts master answered, canceling out the power struggle between the forehead of the storm-mane lion and himself and landing gracefully on his feet with a little help of an impressive aerial roll.
In a blink, enveloped in an ethereal teal aura that circulated around the bulky old man in wavy tendrils, Butofa appeared before the two, kicking the Salvari woman straight in the chest and disassembling her remaining armor plates before back-flipping a handful of times with backflipping kicks. The snarling lion may have wanted to pounce and assist his mistress, but the pulsing shockwaves of Wind Release chakra kept him pinned to the floor and unable to stabilize his form. Because of that, the beast kept switching between being storm-form and solid.
With a disciplined hum, Master Butofa gently guided his hefty arms around in a vertical circle before thrusting a single fist to the core of the Salvari woman's chest, which sent her flying across the entire arena and crashing into a tower of the Agbarmahal palace and clean through. The audience gasped and wooed with mixed reactions as while some enjoyed the delightful light show of those seeming like gods to them mere mortals clashing against one another, many more considered the Salvari goddess of the arena amongst their favorites to win.
"Ah! What a tragedy! Matrani of the Salvari warriors, a champion of more than a few events here at the Sun Disc arena, has been eliminated by Master Butofa, a martial artist who has never once fought here before!" the announcer snapped his fingers. "It is such a pity to see Matrani eliminated so soon, she barely even showcased her majestic warrior's wrath… In any case, this shocking elimination leaves it at 126 competitors left to determine the top 16!"
The bronze cobra embracing the Supreme Salvari Bishiyari uncoiled, covered in walls of blue flames as the bronze cobra vanished under rippling ground, disappearing alongside the flames that made it unwrap and reveal the slumbering warrior inside.
"What happened?" Bishiyari turned to a plump, blue-skinned man with baggy white trousers armed with only an extravagant flute. "I felt a shock resonating through the dharma…"
"A martial artist has eliminated Matrani," the blue-skinned Salvari, with a thick brush mustache, replied. Bishiyari opened his eyes without a worry in the world or even the tiniest hint of rush.
"A mere martial artist has challenged our divine supremacy over the battlefield? I find that hard to believe. My wife is powerful enough to stimulate even my supreme strength," Bishiyari spoke with serenity oozing from his voice.
"Well, she didn't merge with either of her beasts nor did she use the Obliterate Evil Bow, but her opponent got the better of her, and both Raikaliba and Torabanga…" the blue man with a greasy and curly stack of black hair shrugged his exposed shoulders.
"I see, her opponent must not have been such a bad guy then. Both of us struggle to use our full strength against opponents of pure dharma," Bishiyari sighed. "This isn't something that afflicts any of the other Salvari, though."
"Do you plan to challenge that man, Supreme One?" the chubby Salvari scratched the back of his head.
"By no means. I am all things but vengeful. Had her opponent been a foul soul, worthy of retribution, I'd waste no time before smiting him, but it simply isn't worth pursuing a pure soul. If you wish to prove something to yourselves, I am no master of yours," Bishiyari shrugged and yawned before turning his front to the brewing battlefield. The Salvari, that seemed defensive and hesitant to join the battlefield before, sensed the awakening of their strongest member and promptly took off to rejoin the chaos of boiling war.