Urban Knight - Return of Legends

“Heeelllllloooooooo people of Neeew Luuumingaaaaaaard!!! it’s me again, your favorite commentator: J-Rider!!!”

An amped-up voice boomed through the colosseum as giant floating screens started materializing above the center, viewable from any and every seat. They all showed the same image: a red-haired man smiling boldly.

His face had four distinctive tattoos: a red heart on his left cheek, a blue diamond on the right, a black club on the forehead, and a gray spade on the chin. His teeth shone with a golden glow, and as he moved animatedly, a variety of chains and trinkets could be seen dangling about.

“It’s been a while since we gathered at the colosseum, huh?! We even had to get rid of some giant spiders and cobwebs! but boy, did we come back with a bang!”

Once again, the enthusiastic tone reverberated inside the structure.

“Two guilds decided to settle things once and for all! and we, the lucky ones, are here to witness their clash!”

He took a pause, as the spectators shouted and exclaimed in agreement.

“So tell me, New Lumingard, are you exciteeeeeeeeeed?!”

The colosseum erupted with encouragement, applause, whistling, and a myriad of different noises.

“Yeaaah!!!”

Screamed the spectators in unison, the giant structure rumbling with their collective movements.

“Yooo that’s what i like to heeeear! Put up your bets, grab onto your tails, and cover your ears, because it’s gonna get craaaaaaaaaaaazzyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

The tattooed man yelled at the top of his lungs, and the masses cheered as streaks of light began to ascend all around the arena. Then, at the height of their ascent, explosions followed, scattering a multitude of colorful sparkles that slowly cascaded down.

Ascalon watched the whole event unfold with his eye wide open, amazed at every little detail. From the announcer’s booming voice reaching such a high tone, to the infectious energy emanating from the spectators—which included a motivated Jay nearby—and the dazzling spectacle of lights that followed

They really were embracing the ‘festival’ mood, yet Ascalon felt it took away from the seriousness of the situation. Still, he couldn’t help but be influenced by the cheerful atmosphere. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad that things weren’t more somber after all.

He looked down at the arena, saw Lilithra clap animatedly at Selorien’s side, and smiled softly. If his friends were fine with it, why would he be against it? As he thought that, the so-called J-Rider’s voice was heard once more.

“For the newcomers and regulars alike, let me explain the rules!”

The red-haired man shouted enthusiastically, and the screens changed from his visage to an image displaying the names of the fighters, divided by columns with symbols that represented their guilds.

“The main rule is: there are no rules!!! and today, we’re gonna see some one versus one action!!!”

Explained J-Rider amidst the cheering crowd.

“We have the best healers and medics in town at the ready, and defensive barriers are set around the arena, so go ham everyone!!!”

Ascalon listened intently, thinking it was actually pretty similar to the arenas back in Excadia. Though there were no healers at the ready there—battles usually lasted until one of the fighters drew their last breath. Still, even if he believed in his friends, the whole no-rules thing made him a bit worried.

“Personally, I really wanted to see a relay kind of battle, where the winner keeps fighting until defeated! But since the one aaaand only Lucio Cormante is participating, we decided to keep it fair!”

The people in the stands shouted various things, some understanding, some confused by a particular topic, and the commentator picked up on that as his smile turned into a grin.

“What’s that, dear spectators? Why isn’t the Flaming Fists leader participating? Why isn’t the great Ignis defending the honor of his guild? He’s a coward, you say? Daaayuuuum! Be careful people, I can see him seethe in the VIP balcony!”

The commentator laughed loudly, clearly mocking the Flaming Fists’ Guildmaster. The man with long, black hair—the one that had shot Ascalon an irritated stare earlier—reclined in his seat and crossed his arms, replying to no one in particular.

“Hmmph! As if I would lower myself to his level! I couldn’t care less about Lucio’s stupid schemes!” He exclaimed with annoyance, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed. Ascalon could now get a glimpse at what kind of man was the Flaming Fists’ leader, and he didn’t like his attitude at all. That entire Guild seemed like a lair of truancy and villainy, to be honest.

It was then that the announcer spoke again.

“But oh well, I'm sure Lucio will meet his match today! Against the one and only… fucking Bob bahahah!!! Oh shit sorry Bob, don’t take it personally!”

He exclaimed with a mocking tone, his distaste for that particular Guild being pretty evident—though Ascalon felt a bit sad for this ‘Bob’ fellow. Still, the colosseum erupted with laughter, and in the field, a member of the Flaming Fists raised his arms high in the air.

He was a chubby man, wearing the distinctive jacket of his Guild, a pair of blue pants, and a set of military-looking boots. His head had a circular patch of hair right in the middle, with the rest completely shaved. On his nape was a tattoo of their Guild emblem, and his round face showed an ecstatic smile. Ascalon assumed that was Bob, and at least he seemed to be happy about the attention.

“Hell yeah Bob!”

Exclaimed J-Rider as he watched the now pumped-up Bob.

“But let’s get this show on the road! Like, dayum, someone make me shut up already!”

He added, part of the audience laughing and rallying.

“Cooooming right up, we got the biggest and meanest kitty in the block: Richaaaaard the White Gaaaale!”

At the announcer’s words, Ascalon scanned Casanova’s group, and immediately found the person that matched the description. He looked fierce and confident as he walked toward the center of the arena, his tail moving quickly from side to side. The man looked incredibly annoyed though, his visible brow furrowed and his fangs glistening in the open—probably due to J-Rider’s commentary.

“Versuuuuuus!!! The one guy from the fists that actually focuses on training martial arts—the muscular, stone-cold: Daaaaaario the Pummeler!”

This time, Ascalon gazed in the opposite direction and fixated his eye on a strong-looking individual approaching Richard. He stood out from the rest of his group for his impassive demeanor, as he had ignored the audience and focused on his opponents since setting foot in the arena.

Dario too was wearing the distinctive jacket of their Guild, though his looked roughed up and old, bulging with his notable musculature. It kind of matched Richard’s scarf, in a way. The bulky bracelets on his forearms added to his rough appearance, and he was also wearing blue jeans, while barefoot. His hair looked unkempt and all over the place, as if he had cut it with a sharp rock rather than a pair of scissors or a blade.

He walked with a confident stride, and gave out the aura of a seasoned warrior. Ascalon admired the man’s posture, as he seemed truly disciplined and concentrated on the fight ahead. It was a shame that he belonged to such a nefarious Guild, though.

From where Ascalon was seated he couldn’t see the three scars that disfigured the right side of Dario’s face, nor his deep, dark eyes, but could notice Richard sneering as his opponent approached.

“Came for a new scar to match the old one, buddy?” Richard’s snarky voice echoed through the arena, rallying erupting at his remark.

The sudden event took Ascalon by surprise, his eye widening in confusion. But the feeling was short-lived.

“Cool, right? It’s J-Rider’s unique skill! Voice amplification, or something!” Jay’s excited voice reached Ascalon, who looked at him curiously and nodded in appreciation, thankful for the information.

So there were even skills like that? Ascalon thought that was really interesting. As he was marveling at the discovery, Dario’s voice boomed.

“Try to rile me up all you want, Richard, but today I’m paying back this debt.” He exclaimed as he touched the right side of his face with his left hand. The crowd followed his comment by shouting and cheering once more, clearly hyped about the incoming battle.

Ascalon felt intrigued about their conversation since he still couldn’t see what Dario’s face hid, but also felt overcome with anticipation—he wanted to witness the bout already!

“These two seem to have quite the history, eh?” Added Jay from his seat, smiling gleefully, clearly a gossip-loving fellow. Though Ascalon was in no position to judge, either.

“Now then! get ready, everyone! Richard, Dario, give us a good show boys! Rejoice, as I will shut the hell up until it’s over! The fight will start once you hear the signal!”

Some of the spectators laughed at the comment, but the tension was already so high that most people were glued to the two combatants, eager to see them clash.

Seconds passed, as the shouting slowly subdued to a murmur, and even some birds could be heard in the distance. Then, a bell rang across the whole colosseum.

The two warriors lunged forward brazenly, colliding furiously in the middle of the arena. The impact of their fists crashing sent shockwaves all around them, and the colosseum rumbled as cheers resounded once again. After the initial blow, the fighters jumped back at the same time, gaining some distance to size each other up.

They walked in a circle, Richard focusing intently on Dario’s body movements, and Dario on Richard’s. Richard shifted his weight from one foot to the other, swaying slightly as he advanced, his Felinae agility a notorious feature of his style of combat.

Dario, on the other hand, maintained a methodical pace, his steps accompanied by quick, short breaths. Blood was circulating seamlessly through his veins, his muscles pulsating slightly as his heartbeat encompassed his whole body. They both waited, looking for an opening or any slight sign of weakness, but were clearly at an impasse. The most impatient one had to act first.

Suddenly, Richard dashed in a burst of incredible speed toward Dario’s right side, leaving behind an afterimage that, to the surprise of the spectators, ran in the opposite direction and approached from the left. The crowd gasped in amazement as two Richards pounced upon Dario.

The scarred man ignored the first one—which disappeared at a hair’s breadth from him—and turned left as he raised both his arms in defense, intercepting a razor-sharp set of claws with his bracelets. The impact made his legs quiver, but he quickly bulked up and leaned forward, jumping as he extended his right leg into an upward kick aimed at the Felinae’s chest.

Richard, who remained mid-air after pouncing, relied on passive skills and his trained body to soften the blow, and Dario’s bare feet struck him squarely in the torso. The white-furred Felinae flew back a slight distance, and even though the pain was bearable, his opponent wasn’t done yet.

Dario took advantage of the situation and rushed toward Richard, his fists beginning to glow as they were quickly enveloped by fiery flames. Richard assessed the situation, and as soon as his rear paws hit the floor, he backstepped in succession as a flurry of blows assaulted him.

Richard deftly evaded the hits, rapidly twisting his body from side to side while he retreated, smelling his fur burn as the fists grazed him. Dario showed no sign of frustration as his attacks were avoided, and kept advancing with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

The crowd cheered all the while, and Ascalon was engrossed with the fight, his face showing both elation and amazement. Their skill and strength were really on par with each other, so the battle could either last as long as their stamina allowed or end as soon as one of them made a slight mistake.

One of the attacks grazed Richard’s face, and the cloth covering his right side fell, revealing his bare skin. He was missing an eye and an ear, his fur barely growing in patches around a disturbing burn scar. Ascalon felt a sense of camaraderie with the one-eyed Richard, but was more interested in the tale behind that old wound. He pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on the fight at present.

The one to break the stalemate was Richard, who, displaying once again his astounding speed, separated his body into multiple afterimages that rushed in different directions. This time, Dario opened his mouth and gritted his teeth, as he was so focused on the relentless barrage that he couldn’t spot the ‘real’ Richard among the fleeing ‘clones’.

He stopped attacking and took a big breath before briefly raising his right leg high. The next moment, he exhaled sharply and brought his feet down in a thunderous stomp. The whole colosseum shook, the ground around him cracking under the weight of the impact. This made a few of the afterimages stumble and vanish, but there were still three quickly dashing as they circled him.

Then, Ascalon heard the Flaming Fists’ Guildmaster speak out of nowhere, annoyance clear in his voice. “I can’t believe he’s getting pushed around by that cat again! Ugh, useless bastard, I should just kick him out!” He stated while a few murmurs could be perceived around him.

It was then that a womanly voice cut through the balcony, her tone firm and coated with disdain. “Please do, your shithole isn’t worthy of a man like Dario.” Ascalon’s eye moved in the direction of the voice, seeing now the appearance of the woman who was talking to Jay when he arrived.

She had voluminous red hair, and her slightly tanned face and long eyelashes made for a striking view. She wore a brown overcoat over a white shirt, which bulged over an ample chest. Her brown pants and leather boots matched well with the rest of the attire, and she had a black cloth tied on her left arm with a white symbol of a skull opening its mouth.

Going by what Ascalon had gathered about the people in the ‘VIP’ area, she was probably also a Guildmaster, or at least a high-ranking member of a Guild. She side-eyed him, noticing his stare, and winked, which startled Ascalon a bit. The Fists’ Guildmaster simply huffed, and ignored the girl.

Back at the arena, Dario felt like Richard was testing his mettle, trying to agitate him, to wear him down—he knew the Felinae very well, after all. His eyes darted from one Richard to the other, assessing their pathing and their speed. He waited patiently until the three blurs were around the same side of the arena, and furrowed his brow as his visage was overtaken by determination.

He quickly spun on his right foot as he unleashed a wide, sweeping kick. His leg cut through the air with a booming sound, as a shockwave reverberated forward, causing two of the afterimages to waver and dissipate. The real Richard, however, got on all fours and pressed his body to the ground in order to avoid the attack.

But it wasn’t just an evasive maneuver. Richard quickly pounced toward Dario, with the speed and ferocity of a wild predator—boosted to impossible levels by passive skills and the strength of all his four limbs combined. Dario was taken by surprise, and barely managed to raise his guard as the Felinae approached.

Richard’s attack was a downward slam with both his powerful, sharp claws, and as it connected with Dario’s bracelets, the ground shook and a cloud of dust and debris enveloped them. The crowd erupted in cheers once more, their excitement reaching a new peak.

As the fine particles dissipated in the arena, people gasped at the sight. There were the two warriors, struggling with all their might, their faces a mix of rage and fighting spirit, teeth and fang bare. Richard’s right claw was firmly embedded into Dario’s left shoulder, dangerously close to his neck, and blood was staining his jacket. The left paw of the Felinae also stuck on Dario’s bracelets.

Ascalon let out a big sigh as he reclined in his seat. He, who had seen countless battles and experienced many a bout, knew the fight was already over. Jay couldn’t help but notice his demeanor, and briefly raised an eyebrow before focusing on the arena again.

Dario’s face twisted in pain, as Richard roared atop his beastly lungs. “Rrraaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!!!” The claw deeply lodged into Dario’s flesh began to glow white, and the air began to circle around them in a fierce whirlwind.

Then, blood gushed from Dario’s shoulder as Richard raised his right paw high, dislodging it from the flesh. In a second, it went down again in thunderous impetus, slashing through Dario with a clean downward motion. A white flash followed, and the thud sound of Dario’s left arm hitting the floor made the tribunes gasp in shock, horror, and awe. Silence reigned around the colosseum after such a turn of events.

Dario then smiled weakly in regret and defeat, his now vacant eyes looking at the floor, and put down his head in shame. It seemed to be over. The announcer's voice boomed through the structure, breaking the heavy silence.

"And the winner is... Richaaaard the Whiiite Gaaaaaaaaale!!!"