AN:

Some bad news, university is starting in a couple of days so... yeah. Now obviously I'm gonna be working on this story less but it won't be forgotten, I've literally got stuff I really wanna write that's coming in a bit. I've already got the next chapter written and ready to post but after that, I might be able to do one the next month, if not then definitely around Christmas. Wish me luck!

Follow and Review!


Chapter 7: The Time

"And Yusawa knocks Hugo right off his feet with a devastating right hook!" A man standing on a high platform enthusiastically shouts and the surrounding crowd cheers in excitement as a tall man within the ring of dirt groans on the ground.

Before he can even lift his head, his bulkier opponent crosses the distance and viciously stomps on the man's face with a snarl, his body twitches in pain. The crowd's bloodlust spikes as blood starts pouring from around the boot, the ground literally shaking in anticipation.

The man standing wipes his bloody lip with a hand and condescendingly rubs his boot on his opponent, getting another groan of pain from the man. Lifting his bloody boot reveals a disfigured face, covered in blood with bruises closing his eyes shut as he tries to gasp for breath.

"And Hugo can barely breathe let alone fight! Yusawa wins!" The announcer yells, his voice soon swamped with various reactions from the men and women surrounding him.

"Ha! I knew he would win!"

"What the fuck Hugo! You said you would win this!"

"Yusawa barely has a scratch on him! I knew this was my golden chance!"

Yusawa raises an arm, making the crowd go wild as he grins with bloody teeth and starts walking back towards the entrance, many people in the surrounding stands congratulating him and security holding the more enthusiastic spectators back.

"And Yusawa win's against the man with a record of 8-3! Making this his fourth match with his fourth win! Can anyone stop this rising star!" As the announcer hypes the crowd and Hugo is taken away with a stretcher, a boy walks down the stands and exits the ring.

He stops for a moment near a crowded betting booth, the workers passing money around as they take bets in from the wild mob screaming and waving tickets around. A worker takes off a panel from above the stand, replacing it with a new one with names and numbers written on it.

'Eirlet: 0 - 0 KO - 0 VS. Keith: 2-0 KO - 0'

'Hmm, so my opponent won all his fights eh?' Eirlet wonders.

Reading the entire board, he sees the odds are against him, anyone betting on him would have a 2.5 times payout.

Pulling his gaze away he starts walking again, heading past the lively corners which hold the Dugouts and towards a guarded entrance in the wall.

'Would've been nice to bet on myself if I had any silver to actually do so. But I guess that's what Sherbolt's gonna do.' He thinks as he brings out the paperwork Charlotte had given him when a guard with a red bandanna around his bicep turns to him.

"What do you want brat?" He gruffly questions, Eirlet handing his papers in response.

Grabbing it from his hands, the man eyes Eirlet intently as he reads through them, looking for something before he's seemingly satisfied and hands them back.

"Good luck and spill some blood kid." The guard says with an amused smile, a harsh glint passes through his eyes as he steps aside and lets Eirlet pass.

Passing by the guards he heads down the staircase, sighing lightly when he sees the guard turn back around once he steps down and relaxes slightly. He ruffles his hair as he travels down the stairs, the sound from the cheering crowds above gets muffled into silence, the only sounds coming from the light tapping of Eirlet's feet.

Reaching the bottom reveals the intersection which holds the competitor rooms and the large waiting area to his right which he heads down. Entering the area he sees that nothing's changed from his recent visit except the stretcher holding the battered Hugo outside the infirmary and out of the way, no one bothering with him as they go about their business.

"Good for you, you're right on time." A familiar voice speaks from his right.

Turning around he notices Charlotte still sitting at her table and looking as bored as ever. Giving a small wave, he gestures towards Hugo questioningly, trying to get an answer from the seemingly friendly woman.

Flitting her eyes over, she lets out a small 'ah' before answering, "Well Hugo there is in a bit of a pickle. Dumbass spends all his money on prostitutes and drinks so he ain't got much on him, thought Yusawa was an easy win but he lost. Now he's gotta wait and hope for his backer to send some coin in time for treatment, otherwise, he's just gonna stay there until he croaks." She blandly answers.

Eirlet nods, looking over Hugo once more before dismissing him with his curiosity satisfied.

"Now shoo, no more questions. You got a fight to prepare for." She says with a shooing gesture.

Nodding in thanks, he wanders over to the waiting area, shooting a look at the clock above and sees he has seven minutes left. Standing off to the side, he starts doing a few stretches and tries to ignore the nervous tingle at the back of his neck.

'Alright, no worries. This is just like hunting wolves except more direct. Gotta face them head-on. Gotta stay focused.' Reassuring himself, he looks over the waiting fighters, trying to see if he can figure out who his opponent is.

As he warms up, a pair of fighters descend from the staircase, one being supported by the arms and looking barely conscious while the other isn't much better but is at least walking on his own albeit with a limp.

Both pass by and head towards the infirmary and their escort calls out the next pair after crossing out a name, "Keith and Eirlet, you're up."

Perking up, he finishes his final stretch before walking to the escort and notices a lanky teenager a few inches taller than him striding up as well with an arrogant smirk on his face, stretching further once he sees Eirlet.

As the escort walks up and Eirlet goes to follow, he pauses for a moment, letting Keith pull ahead -where he would've been shoved if he went ahead- who condescendingly eyes him.

Ignoring him, Eirlet walks behind the group, eyeing Keith with focus as the familiar sound of cheering gets louder with every step.

'He's confident. Arrogance? A flaw. Not built but skinny and lanky, could rely on his speed and long reach to chip away at someone and will be a problem against me. Gonna have to drain his stamina or surprise him.' Analyzing and planning the best he can, the three reach a hallway within the wall which they walk through and turn a corner before entering a door, revealing a room with a two aides and guards standing by with another door on the other side.

"Leave everything except your tunic and trousers and get wrapped up. Keith's heading out first." Their escort says dully, gesturing to the two aides standing to the side with rolls of bandages in their hands.

Eirlet removes his coat and places it on a table, having left his knife in his room and both of them get pat-down, revealing nothing and get their hands wrapped.

Peering down at his hands, he flexes and twists his hands and wrists as he gets used to the slightly restrictive wrappings.

Punching his fists together with a grin, Keith looks over to Eirlet with an arrogant smirk, "Don't worry kid I'll go easy on you. Well, easy enough that you can lick my boots once I plant it in your face." He barks a laugh at the insult he gave.

Eirlet watches with a blank face as a knock comes from the door and Keith exits into the ring, the cheers of the crowd pouring in for a moment before muffling once again, 'Was that really his best?' Shaking his head, Eirlet lightly hops on his feet and waits for his signal.

Hearing a knock on the door he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Holding it for a moment before he exhales sharply and opens his eyes, calm and focused, no stray thoughts in his head.

Grabbing the handle he swings the door open and is greeted by a wall of noise. Stepping through, he sees he's on a walkway, surrounded by stands filled with people leading to the Dugout straight ahead where Keith stands, waving his arms around and soaking in the cheers with a grin.

"It's a kid!? Ha! He's gonna be killed!"

"You ain't making it out of this alive boy!"

"Oh this is going to be easy money!"

Noticing his young age and size, the crowd jeers at him, many making threats and insults, trying to intimidate and get a reaction out of the boy which works. Walking down the path and getting hit by pieces of food as he does he enters the ring, the rest of the crowd catches on and the bloodlust within them amplifies.

Subtly looking over the area, Eirlet outwardly cows a bit at the taunts, looking slightly pale as he nervously flits his eyes around.

His eyes land on who he's looking for, standing near the announcer platform and sitting quietly within the crowd is Sherbolt, watching him neutrally and right beside him sits Gavec who waves a hand with a grin.

"Well let's get this show on the road shall we!?" The announcer speaks up, "Keith, going two for two against Eirlet! A scared little kid right out of his mother's womb!" The crowd laugh and jeer some more at him, making him flinch, "Let's see how long he'll last! Match, start!" His words incite the crowd some more.

Rather than get in a stance, Keith takes the time to slowly swagger towards Eirlet with a grin, looking fully at ease while Eirlet changes to a weak boxing stance.

"Oh, would you look at that? A rat like you actually knows something about fighting." He arrogantly says, closing the distance with every step and making Eirlet tense further.

"You should've stayed with your momma boy." His grin stretches further as he gets within two meters, intimidating him enough to make him stumble a few steps back and fall to the ground.

The crowd starts chanting for blood, not caring about the fate of the boy, just wanting to get their money's worth of blood.

"Now, she's gonna have to deal with your crippled body." Stepping in, he closes the short distance between them and pulls his arm back for a punch, his grin pulled into a sinister smile as he looks down at the terrified face of his opponent.

His arm pulled far enough and ready to punch, Keith pauses for a moment when he sees a change in Eirlet, going from pissing himself to looking calm with a sharp look in his eyes. He only pauses for a moment but it's long enough for Eirlet to swing his arm around, not close enough to land a hit but enough to throw a fistful of dirt straight into his eyes.

Keith's eyes screw shut in pain, making him lose sight of Eirlet and forcing his punch to go wide as Eirlet rolls away.

"Ahh! You little shit!" Keith tries to rub the dirt out of his eyes with both hands but Eirlet doesn't waste his chance. Quickly getting to fist feet he twists his body and shoots his foot in a hard kick straight up into Keith's groin.

"Ooooh." The crowd reacts in sync as Keith grabs his crotch and bends over, his face twisted in pain as he wheezes from the pain.

Still in front of him, Eirlet shoots his leg up again, landing his knee straight into Keith's face with a sickening -Crack-.

"Gah!" Keith's head swings back as he falls to his side, panting in pain as blood flows from his tilted nose in a steady stream.

Seeing as he's still moving, Eirlet moves closer to the man and raises his foot, landing a vicious stomp on his cheek, silencing the groaning man as his head pounds into the dirt.

"That- And unexpectedly! Eirlet knocks Keith to the ground!" The announcer yells with shock, "Keith doesn't seem to be able to fight, so the winner of the match-"

He doesn't get to finish his declaration as Eirlet quickly moves a few steps away from Keith, dodging a hand that would have grabbed his ankle.

Keith coughs as he puts his hands on the ground and pushes himself to his knees with a groan. Bringing his head up he looks at Eirlet with red eyes, flames of anger burning within, "I'm not… done… yet." He says, wiping the blood from his mouth.

'It's not surprising these fighters are tenacious, just didn't expect it from him.' Eirlet thinks as he watches his opponent intently who's trying to get to his feet.

"Oh my! It seems like Keith wants another go at Eirlet! This fight's not over yet folks!" The announcer yells enthusiastically, the crowd soon following as they erupt in cheers.

Swaying on his feet, Keith spits out blood from his mouth, "You caught me off guard once." He pants out, "It won't happen again." He finishes, getting into a fighting stance, struggling to keep his eyes focused on Eirlet.

As the crowd cheers at the development, Eirlet narrows his eyes before rushing Keith straight on. Keith throws a wide left hook in retaliation with his weight behind it but Eirlet ducks underneath it and spins around Keith as he stumbles forward from the miss.

Taking advantage of being behind him, Eirlet swings his leg low and connects with the back of Keith's knees, making them fold as he grunts in pain. But before he can fall all the way, Keith shoots his hand out and barely snags onto Eirlet's shirt who's eyes widen in surprise as he's brought down along the ride.

"And the fight's been brought down to the ground! With his longer limbs and size, Keith is going to have an advantage in grappling! But can he grasp the opportunity with so many blows to the head!?" The announcer exclaims, leaning dangerously forwards off the platform to get a better look.

Landing partly on Keith and the ground, Eirlet lets out a light grunt and scrambles to his feet. But before he can move away, Keith's long arms painfully grabs onto his left ankle with both hands and trips him

Looking back, he sees Keith with a ferocious smile on his face, "I got yo-"

BAM

Cutting him off, Eirlet plants his other foot on his face, making his grip slacken slightly but not enough to pull free. Tentatively peering around his foot, he sees Keith, still with a smile but with more blood, dripping from his mouth now.

"You think with your weak ass kicks you can-"

BAM BAM BAM BAM

Slightly panicking, Eirlet slams his foot again, and again, and again until he feels Keith's grip go slack and he scurries backwards. Now with a tooth missing, Keith drops his head on the ground with blank eyes and into a small puddle of his own blood, the only indication of him alive is the small rise and fall of his back.

Everyone watches with bated breaths to see if he'll move again before the announcer calls the fight, "And finally down for the count! Eirlet unexpectedly wins the match with a gruesome combo!"

The crowd stays silent for a moment before a distinct cheer comes from nearby the platform, "YEAH! I fucking won that shit!" Looking over with wide eyes from adrenaline, Eirlet sees Gavec running down the aisles with a gleeful smile, waving an orange betting ticket overhead as he presumably runs to get to the betting stand.

His yell ignites the rest of the crowd, many cheering for Eirlet with some running for the betting booth as well while an equal amount boo in displeasure.

"Fuck! That little shit made me lose my drinking money!"

"Seems like Keith was all bark if he lost to a brat!"

"This was supposed to be a blowout man!"

As arguments and mocking taunts start up -mainly towards Keith- Eirlet stays where he's sitting, panting for breath as he absently watches some aides coming to pick the unconscious Keith before he stands up. Wincing slightly as he puts weight on his ankle, he shifts and starts limping away, not before casting a glance towards the announcer platform.

Amid the chaotic crowd, Sherbolt calmly sits with a small smile, nodding slightly towards Eirlet when he notices his gaze. Returning the nod, he turns back and walks down the walkway, ignoring the crowd as he opens the door and shuts it behind it.

Relaxing slightly, he lets his escort guide him out as he tries to ignore his tired and sore body, 'Fuck you Gavec.'

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Five Months Later:

"And Gabriel tackles Eirlet to the ground!" The very same announcer from Eirlet's first match yells out enthusiastically, the crowd cheering per the norm.

Within the dugout itself, the two fighters slam into the ground, one a bulky young adult who lays face down in a daze while the other, a boy -who is naturally Eirlet- groans in pain as he gasps for breath, an eye closed shut with blood dripping out of his nose.

Eirlet pushes his opponent's arm off of him with a grunt before slowly clambering to his feet, swaying and stumbling slightly before he finds his balance. Gabriel, looking quite pale, tries to get his hands beneath him but instead vomits his stomach out, flopping back to the ground with a quiet groan.

"And Eirlet wins! His fifth fight with his fourth win! Looks like Eirlet's back with a bang since his close loss two months ago and breaks Gabriel's four-win streak!" The crowd cheers at his call, many climbing over each other as they try to get to the betting booth for their winnings.

Slowly walking out of the ring and ignoring the cheering, Eirlet enters the waiting room where an aide comes and supports some of his weight.

"Congratulations on your win." The aide speaks up as they follow the escort out into the hallway, a stretcher with the groaning Gabriel following behind, "Would you like to treat your injuries at the infirmary?" He questions.

Nodding in response, he does his best to dull the pain from his nose and ribs. He winces slightly as they walk down the staircase, 'I'm gonna be feeling this for a week at least.' He sullenly thinks.

Reaching the bottom reveals the familiar competitor area but with fewer fighters waiting on the side due to his being one of the last fights. As the escort splits off to update the board, both fighters are brought to the infirmary and lead to separate rooms to be treated.

"Alright, that should take care of your nose." A man wearing an apron with bloody gloves speaks as he moves away from Eirlet, gauze wrapped around and in his nose along with his ribs and an ice pack held over his shut-eye and nose.

"Can't do anything about the bruises but you know what to buy from the market." He says over his shoulder as he washes his hands in the basin off to the side.

Nodding his head in thanks, Eirlet tiredly stands up, painfully lifting his arms to put on his tunic before heading out the room to the hallway with shut doors holding many other fighters.

Reaching the front he signs two forms provided to him, the guard manning the station taking one while he takes the other and leaves.

Taking a small breath he slowly trudges over to The Pit's market to his right, passing by stalls selling food, drinks, clothes and other commodities before stopping in front of a certain stall with a grizzled-looking man manning it.

The man places a small bag on the counter with no prompt while Eirlet places the sheet from the infirmary on the counter. The man signs it and hands it back, "Thanks for your patronage."

Nodding in thanks, he takes both things and heads out, going to the last place left down there.

"You look like shit kid." Charlotte speaks up with some mirth in her voice.

Scowling slightly -taking care to not aggravate his injuries- he hands his form to her who takes it with a grin.

"Don't worry kid," Humming lightly as she reads through the form and reaches underneath the table, "It was surprising that you actually issued the challenge. His skill level is above Axel who, let me remind you, knocked you out, no matter how close it was." Saying that she places a jingling pouch on the table, eyeing Eirlet with curiosity, "So how'd you get that much better within the two months you were recovering for?"

Putting on his most innocent smile he shrugs in response before making grabbing gestures with his hand, getting a snort from the woman, "Alright fine, don't answer my little question." She says before releasing her hold of the pouch and letting Eirlet grab it.

"Like usual I've cut your pay for your purchases." She says distractedly, putting his form away as he opens the pouch with some anticipation.

'65, 72, 80. Medical fees are typically around 20 for this level of injuries so the fight was worth a silver.' He sighs as he closes the pouch.

"Oh come now Eirlet, you only have to endure this for a couple more years before you grow enough for the big leagues." She says with a laugh, "By then you'll be racking in dozens of gold."

'If I do this for a couple more years I'll be dead because of that dick.' He thinks, directing some anger towards a certain person.

Nodding again, he waves Charlotte goodbye before heading down the hallway, entering his room, and sitting on his bed. Dumping his money in his pack he opens the bag he bought revealing two jars filled with green cream.

Changing out of his clothes, he smears the paste on his injuries, taking relief from the numbing sensation. Eating dinner he groans as he lays down in bed and douses his lantern, closing his eyes as he succumbs to his exhaustion.

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One Week Later:

Stepping out the competitor door, Eirlet takes a breath and stretches a bit as the heavy door shuts behind him, his bruises less noticeable than before. Heading up the staircase he heads down the now-familiar path.

'Gotta meet with Sherbolt and see if he's got any work for me. And avoid Gavec while I'm at it as well.' He lightly huffs as he passes the trio of guards and walks across the empty square, no point in anyone wanting to come until the fights start in the evening.

Walking through the dull streets -compared to the nightlife- Eirlet turns onto the street protected by Sherbolt when three thugs move from the wall and stand in front of him, another two stopping behind him.

Stopping between them he narrows his eyes and scans each of the thugs, 'I don't recognize any of them part of Sherbolt's crew.' He glances over his shoulder at the other two, 'Not anyone else I know either.'

A skinny man who seems like the leader speaks up, "You know kid, you made me lose a lot of money with that last fight." He says nonchalantly as he pulls out a pocket knife and starts fiddling with the blade, "You made quite a few of us lose a lot of money actually." The other thugs start bringing out weapons as well, knives, bats and even a knuckle duster.

"We're about to show you-" Eirlet doesn't wait for him to finish monologuing and charges at the thug to his left holding a bat. Slightly startled, the man reacts quickly, hefting the bat over his shoulder and swinging it down heavily with a grunt.

The man doing such a large attack telegraphs his movement for Eirlet who reads him like a book, shifting around the swing he lets the bat hit the ground with a dull -Smack- while unsheathing his knife from his back.

Not expecting Eirlet to be able to dodge, the man put his weight behind the swing, leaving himself wide open for an attack which Eirlet takes. Shooting his knife forward, it slices straight through the side of his neck with a -Squelch-.

Dropping his bat with a scream, the man grabs onto his heavily bleeding neck where Eirlet's knife cut through his artery, desperately trying to stop the bleeding as he drops to the ground. Without looking back Eirlet keeps running as the thugs start reacting, two of them running to their friend who's body soon goes slack.

"Come on! We're not letting that little shit get away!" The leader yells as he chases Eirlet after a moment of surprise, only one man following him.

Running down the street everyone steers clear of Eirlet, the bloody knife in his hands deterring anyone from interfering along with the chasing thugs behind him, that is until he comes across a group of four.

Recognizing some of them, Eirlet raises his blood-free hand and whistles, catching their attention.

"Brat? What do you-" Lok responds, his irritation fading when he notices the bloody knife in his hand and focuses on the thugs sprinting from down the street before he pieces things together, going back to being ticked off, if with some anger laced within.

"Guns up. We're taking these pieces of shit to Sherbolt." He says simply, letting Eirlet run and stay behind them while the three men with him nod and ready their muskets.

In their haze of anger, the two chasing Eirlet don't realize the situation until they're a few meters away from them, both stopping in surprise and fear as three muskets get shoved in their faces, people on the street moving to the side or inside stores to watch safely.

Panting in fatigue, the leader nervously flits his eyes between the guns as he backs up, "Hey- Hey! We didn't do nothing to you!" He exclaims nervously, turning to anger when he notices Eirlet behind them, "Fuck! You should be pointing them at him! He killed someone!" He points a shaking finger at Eirlet.

"Well then," Kores drawls, "He probably had a good reason so it don't matter. What matters is you trying to kill our man here."

The man freezes, nervously shifting on his feet, "Our?"

"Sherbolt's." He responds simply, both thugs paling at the name, "Oh, also Gavec's. The man's claimed the brat as his or some shit." He tacks on, ignoring the annoyed look Eirlet sends him.

"Oh fuck." The second man whispers under his breath as he shakes in fear.

The leader stammers as he tries to explain himself, "Listen- Hey listen man, we- we didn't know he was with you guys. If we- we did, we never would've tried touching him.''

"Yeah yeah, but you guys tried and that's a big no-no from us so," He shrugs, "Too bad so sad." Finished speaking, he gestures towards the two and orders his men, "Tie 'em up, time's a wastin."

As they move to secure them, the man in the back turns and sprints away.

Bang Bang Bang

Three gunshots echo out in the silence as the man's body goes slack and his momentum carries him forward as he falls, dragging his body on the ground before he comes to a stop. The three men lower their smoking guns and approach the remaining man, frozen like a statue as he gets tied up.

"Tch, gonna hafta pay the Fang's now." Kores says with a click of his tongue, not fazed by the shooting before he directs a question to Eirlet, "Anyone else kid?"

Nodding his head, he gets out his book and write's some directions and descriptions, Kores sending his men off to find the remaining thugs while the two of them escort the prisoner.

As the three of them start walking to their base, Eirlet curiously asks Kores a question, 'What's going to happen to him?'

He eyes Eirlet from the corner of his eye, "Probably gonna be made an example of, along with his gang if they're not bigshots." He shrugs.

Eirlet nods and leaves it at that, looking unperturbed by the coming deaths as he wipes off the blood on his knife on his sleeve and sheathes it. The corner of Kores's mouth lifts slightly at his reaction before wiping it away.

They reach the base silently as a dozen armed men disperse through the streets, Sherbolt and Gavec stand at the entrance and stop their conversation to eye their entourage intently, Gavec with some glee when he sees Eirlet.

'Welp seems like the day's plans are trashed. Will I get some coin from this though? Hmm,' He eyes the quivering leader as Kores briefly explains the situation, 'Oh yeah. I'm definitely getting something from this one way or the other.'

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Four Months Later:

"And Elissa and Forge team up to take down the behemoth of a man, Illias!" A man in a blood-red suit yells through a cone.

Cheers reverb throughout the massive ruin from people standing throughout the three-story structure, blood-red banners hang on the walls as they look down upon twenty people stuck in mortal combat. Half a dozen of them are already down and out for the count but none pay them any attention as various fights start and end within.

A lean woman and man dance around a massive man, who stands head and shoulder above the rest of the competitors as they use their speed to land hits and dodge from his slow and heavy punches. On the other side, a duo trading blows with each other becomes a four-way fight as another fighter tackles his opponent into them, creating a dogpile of punches and kicks.

As various team-ups start and end, and exotic techniques are displayed and used, the number of fighters soon dwindles. The man and woman take down the large man and soon turn on one another, the dogpile of a fight spits out one heavily bruised and bleeding fighter who gets knocked out by a waiting fist.

On the second story of the shaking building, half of the level is separate from the rest where tables and chairs take up the space, various merchants, businessmen, gang leaders and the sparse soldier sit, watching the entertainment with some level of anticipation.

"Damn, Hector's out." A merchant says with some disappointment, taking a sip from his glass.

The man sitting with him curiously questions, "How much did you put on him?"

"Bah, it was only a dozen gold," He waves his hand dispassionately, "This year was far too close for anything bigger."

Whilst they discuss their bets, in an out of the way corner sit two people as they watch the fight, one with more fascination than the other.

"Now do you see kid? This is the level that the big leagues are at, nothing like the kiddy stuff you're doing right now." Gavec says, gesturing towards a fight. A man has his opponent in a tight armbar, his victim frantically trying to get out of the painful hold.

Pop

The man starts screaming as his arm gets bent back at an unnatural angle, his opponent letting his arm go to let him grab it with a whimper but not letting the chance go he's quickly put into a chokehold, going slack within a few seconds.

Eirlet lets out an affirmative grunt as he keeps his eyes fixed below as the final fight occurs, between the heavily bruised grappler he was watching and the lean woman who's taken down both the largest man and her teammate, now sporting a nosebleed and a limp.

The cheers reach a crescendo as the two trade blows, the woman dancing around and using all her limbs to stay out of the grapplers reach as the man tries to bring her down. Those who've heavily betted on one of them cheer the loudest, even those within the cordoned area start getting riled up with red faces from their excitement and drinks.

Ultimately the grappler's able to take advantage of her limp and knock her feet from out under her, dropping her painfully to the hard ground and taking advantage of her disoriented state.

Dropping on top of her, he wraps his arm around her neck and puts his head under her arm in preparation for an arm-triangle choke but the woman comes to herself and pushes his arm in time, giving her enough space to shimmy higher and out of the hold.

Quickly releasing his hold he tries to control her movements and ends up with an elbow blow to his cheek but is able to get himself behind her and into a rear-naked choke. As the woman desperately tries to escape from his hold it ends up like his last matchup, her attempts at freedom slowing down until her eyes close shut, ending the fight.

Ding Ding Ding

Once the bell's rung the crowd roars in approval, the man shoves the unconscious woman off him and stays down, smiling as he pants in fatigue.

As various aides and medics start filtering in and the announcer calls the free for all an explosion of reactions set off on the second floor. Some swear quite drunkenly and others celebrate their win with more drinks.

"Hah!" Gavec laughs, taking a swig from the bottle in his hands, "And Roxanne boasted about winning this easily! Seems like someone owes me a beer!"

As Gavec laughs at her loss, Eirlet ponders over the fights he saw, 'There were quite a few unique fighting styles displayed along with moves I didn't think of but look quite useful. Hmm, I'll try them out later and see if I can use them.'

Finishing his thought, he glances over to a table close to the front of the stands where a group of people are sedately watching the proceedings and quietly talk amongst themselves. One of them being Sherbolt who looks quite pleased, shaking hands with a man wearing a suit sitting beside him.

"You know -Hic- who that is Eirlet?" Gavec slurs, swinging an arm around him.

Moving his face away from his breath in distaste, Eirlet nods, "Well -Hic- that's Norman Panfretti, also known as -Hic- 'The Tycoon'." He says, stressing his nickname with a laugh, "He's a big shot here, owns a share of The -Hic- Pit and a good chunk of Main Street too."

"He needs a certain -Hic- thing, asap. As in, a lot of people will lose their necks if he -Hic- doesn't get it. A lot. And what do you know," He hums at the end, taking another swig of his bottle, "I just happened to… acquire, said thing coincidentally. You -Hic- even helped!" He points his finger at his face, laughing as Eirlet swats it.

Chugging the remainder of the bottle, Gavec slams it down and scrapes his chair whilst standing up before walking towards Sherbolt, Eirlet silently accompanying him just as the man stands up with a farewell to his acquaintances.

'I wonder… was that package from that shitty job a month ago what he wants?' He thinks back, remembering the package he had to bring from Karanes back to their base, having to take a roundabout way which was slow and a pain.

"It went well I hope?" Gavec asks, looking more put together for a moment once they get near.

"Fabulously," He says with a smirk, "And because of that," He glances over his shoulder at Eirlet, "Someone's got a bonus for the work they put in for our expansion."

Eirlet perks up at the word 'bonus', a smile spreading across his face at the promise, 'Seems like that misery was worth it after all.'

He giddily walks down the steps, dodging Gavec's sluggish shove and kicking him in the shin in retaliation as the man's laugh echo through the stairwell.


AN:

Eirlet's age at the beginning of the book - 8

After the 3 year skip - 11

Current - 12

The chapter shows events spanning over 10 months.