Urban Knight - Return of Legends

The colosseum exploded in cheers and shouting as Richard was announced the winner, even though the image before the spectators was crude and visceral. Dario had fallen to his knees, and clutched his bleeding shoulder while his left arm rested in a pool of crimson. In the distance, medics could be seen hurriedly approaching now that the match had concluded.

Richard heaved with ragged breaths, exhausted and relieved by his victory, and looked down at his now defeated adversary, his blue eye showing no emotions behind it. He didn’t feel even the slightest bit of remorse or pity at what he had done, but did regret, just a little bit, that that might have been the last time he fought Dario on equal terms.

He turned around and began walking back to Casanova’s group, but something was gnawing at the back of his head. He clicked his tongue and spoke, his voice still being amplified by J-Rider’s skill.

“Come and try again as many times as you want. I’m always ready for a rematch. Hmmph!” He said with disdain, though Dario sighed softly at the words. Maybe the Felinae did feel a bit of remorse, after all.

“Doesn’t that just hype you up, people?! Two real warriors right there, yes siiir!”

The crowd roared once again, and the floating screens now showed the remaining matches after having added a victory for Casanova’s team.

“Calm down people, it’s only been the first match! Spare some of your voice for the battles ahead! Or… you could simply buy one of our highly effective throat remedies! A single sip can…”

As J-Rider began running an advertisement, Richard reached his Guild members' designated spot. Lucio greeted him with a knowing smile, confident that Richard would’ve won no matter what. Lucretia was glued to her phone, but gave a thumbs up toward the Felinae, who chuckled softly.

As for Lilithra and Selorien, they simply watched the warrior in awe. They had been silent through the entire match, and had felt a myriad of emotions. From admiring the fighter’s prowess, to being jealous of their skills, and even a bit scared at how it had ended up.

Lilithra was especially taken aback by the bloody outcome, thinking that she had to face an opponent as deadly as Richard in just two more matches. It was clear that in a fight between the two, the Felinae would mop the floor with Rosco. But that was the thing: she was not Richard.

The whole ‘no rules’ part was also a bit scary for her. She knew Rosco wasn’t going to hold back, and there was nothing stopping people from killing each other in the colosseum, even if it was a rare occurrence. With her thoughts spiraling down, she decided to look at the VIP corner once again.

Ascalon’s presence out there lightened her mood immediately and rekindled her resolution. She hesitantly approached Richard, who now sat on a bench and dried his sweaty fur with a towel. He looked up, his eye showing displeasure and suspicion, as she timidly raised her voice.

“Uhm! Great fight!” She exclaimed concisely, her hands curled into tiny, pumped-up gestures. Even Richard couldn’t help but admire a bit of her innocence. He nodded, sighing in resignation, and Lilithra felt that she had passed some kind of hurdle. Both Lucretia and Lucio seemed surprised by the interaction, but didn’t voice it.

At the same time, Selorien was smiling at his friend. Even though he had pictured himself cheering up Lilithra through the event, he was glad that she didn’t seem as nervous as he had predicted, and felt quite reassured by her actions.

If she maintained that level-headedness, he could focus on preparing for his own match. He didn’t know a single thing about his opponent, and a colosseum wasn’t exactly the best place for a rogue to excel at, so he was trying to come up with a plan—though being mesmerized by the fights was going to prove counterproductive, unless the battles sparked a strategy for him.

Still, it was exciting. When was the last time he felt his life was on the line? A hundred years ago, give or take? He thought the ‘encounter’ with Escarlata didn’t count, not wanting to admit she scared him to the core that one night. He was really looking forward to testing his skills against another fighter, and not just some dungeon monster.

While his friends delved into their own thoughts, Ascalon was anticipating the next battle. The people around him were making various post-fight comments, and he listened intently to their reactions.

“I think Richard’s agility was what tipped the scale! I mean, maybe Dario would’ve won if he had better equipment too.” Commented Jay, his friendly smile ever present, as he playfully threw some small, white snacks into his mouth.

“I agree. I know you men love showing off your chest and muscles, and I’m not complaining! But good enchanted armor can make a difference.” Added the red-haired girl, whose name was still unknown to Ascalon.

He agreed with her though, knowing that his own armor had been of great help in his past. Even if his body was resilient and almost impervious to damage from weaker foes, he had many encounters with creatures where his trusty equipment had been a deciding factor. Still, the ‘enchanted’ part piqued his curiosity.

“He was simply outclassed! Hah!” A fierce voice cut through the air, belonging to the man-bear that Ascalon had seen before.

“You’re just saying that because you’re both furry, Urvan!” Jay interjected while laughing, the palm of his hand hitting his knee repeatedly. He seemed incredibly amused by his own words, implying that maybe the bear had some sort of camaraderie with Richard because of their races.

Ascalon thought it made sense. Since time immemorial people tried to band with those that resembled them, appearance-wise. Though he had thought New Lumingard was a more diverse, open-minded place, maybe there were still some that preferred to associate with their ‘own’.

Urvan laughed alongside Jay, his ferocious jaw opening wide in an entertained smile. Ascalon thought most people there knew each other enough to joke around, and it made for a lively sight—though there was one that silently seethed in his seat: the Flaming Fists’ leader.

Ignis, as the announcer had called him, trembled with bottled-up anger. Despite trying to conceal it as best as he could, he was like an open book—his brows furrowed, face flushed red, and veins pulsating on his forehead. No one wanted to poke fun at him, knowing it was going to lead to trouble.

While Jay, the woman and Urvan kept exchanging comments, others didn’t share their thoughts. Both Escarlata and the old elf had watched the match in silence. Ascalon hadn’t noticed even the slightest bit of emotion on the man’s face, and it was to be expected. Just how many similar battles had this Theoldorien witnessed in his life? The elder probably felt a sense of déjà vu just by being there.

There was also the scrawny-looking man Ascalon had observed when he arrived. He sat the furthest from the group, and in a really unorthodox position. He was hunched over his seat, with both his shoes on it, and was holding his knees close to his chest, adopting more of a squat rather than a sitting position.

Watching him closely, Ascalon could notice he was actually moving his lips, though he seemed to simply be talking to himself. But as he thought that, he heard his name being called out.

“So what did you think, Ascalon? I’m only asking twice, alright? Ha!” It was Jay’s voice, who laughed animatedly. It appeared that he had tried to get Ascalon’s attention before, but he was too focused on his surroundings.

He furrowed his brows slightly as he pondered. “It was a fine battle. While they were on par with each other, Sir Richard seized the slightest advantage to turn the match in his favor! I must agree with the Lady, though—I wonder if it would have ended like so if Sir Dario were better armored.” Ascalon replied, referring to the red-haired woman as the Lady, not knowing her name, and agreeing with her earlier comment.

The woman smiled softly, clearly pleased by his words. “Why, thank you… Mr. Ascalon. You can call me Calista, by the way.” She answered in a slightly seductive tone, her gaze fixed on him. Ascalon nodded, acknowledging her name and nothing else, his dense nature keeping him from reading too much into her tone.

Still, he felt he was fitting in among these people, his earlier doubts about being alone having banished completely.

Urvan seemed to engage in a brief conversation with the scrawny-looking man, who simply shook his head in response, and at the same time, the announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd.

“Alright everyone! Dario is going to the infirmary to learn about prosthetics. The arena has been cleaned up, soooooo…”

He paused for a moment, building up the anticipation.

“It’s time for the second maaaaatch!!!”

The cheering and shouting repeated itself, and the colosseum rumbled as the screens showed the next combatants’ names.

“Coming from the Flaming Fists’ pest-ridden hellhole, this one is a real piece of work! He’s known for being high all the time and a total douche to boot! Give it up for Adarieeeeeeel the Scorched Alchemiiiiist!!!”

The crowd erupted in a mix of booing and cheering as a man approached the center of the arena, being one of the guys that had made some rude gestures toward the spectators before, alongside the damned Bob. Despite that, he seemed to have a certain level of popularity, seeing how he had split some parts of the audience into voicing their opposing opinions against each other.

Adariel grinned widely, his mouth stretched from ear to ear with his tongue out, giving off a really unhinged vibe. As his yellow eyes darted around the stands, he basked on praise and insult alike. His spiky, orange hair had random streaks of red and yellow hues mixed in. Many corroded nails could be seen embedded into his ears, adding to his wild appearance. As for his torso, he was wearing the Flaming Fists’ jacket over a naked, pale chest, and through his right arm ran a distasteful tattoo of a crying, naked woman.

He also wore a pair of long, red shorts with big pockets, and his hairy legs were full of red dots and marks. On his shoes, two old-looking sneakers whose blue color had mostly faded away, and the laces had been crudely replaced by zip-ties.

In the VIP balcony, Calista’s displeased voice reached Ascalon’s ears. “Poor girl… to have to deal with that deranged bastard.” She stated with clear disapproval, her upper lip raised and her nose wrinkled up in disgust. Ascalon couldn’t help but agree, seeing Adariel’s crazy looks.

Ascalon couldn’t believe some people were even cheering for him, but he reminded himself that such was the unpredictable behavior of people in crowds, especially in events where emotions ran high and blood was shed. As he wondered, J-Rider’s voice reached everyone.

“On the other hand, and contrasting with this damn weirdo, we have the gorgeous, dark-looking doll that ranks first in people that I want to be smothered by! Lucretiaaaaaaa the Hushed Whispeeeeeer!!!”

This time, the Leporian girl left the Casanova group, making her way to the arena with half-closed eyes and a bored, unbothered expression. Her eyes rolled as she listened to the announcer and the spectators, some of them screaming their unending love for her. Among the many weirdos, she heard Lilithra.

“D-do your best!” Exclaimed the red-haired girl, with a bit of shyness on her tone. Lucretia felt a bit touched, yet her facial expression remained unchanging.

As she arrived at the arena, a creepy sight welcomed her. Adariel was licking his lips lecherously, his hands rubbing against each other while he moved his hips back and forth in a thrusting motion.

“Fuck, you’re such a hot bitch!” He said with a mocking grin, his eyes burning holes in her cleavage. The spectators booed in repulsion, hearing his amplified voice, and Lucretia herself rolled her eyes again.

“Ew.” Was the only word that escaped her lips, but that only seemed to fuel Adariel as his tongue moved erratically outside his mouth.

“Chill out man, what the fuck. Start this already, people!!!”

Even the announcer seemed disgusted by Adariel’s behavior, and hoped the colosseum staff rushed the starting signal. Thankfully, his wish was granted, as the bell sound echoed through the colosseum once again.

The crowd cheered, accompanying the sound, and Adariel quickly dashed forward. He raised both his hands and grabbed a pair of rusty hatchets that appeared out of thin air. His crazed look as he advanced made for a horrifying sight, his tongue lolling about and droll staining his chin.

But Lucretia simply sighed, as she raised her right hand and a black book materialized on it. The tome opened, and the pages started to flip furiously. In a second, a dark aura began to seep out of Lucretia, devouring the colorful surroundings and reducing them to monochrome shades.

“Prologue—It devoured it all.” She whispered with an ominous, hushed tone. Her voice, being elevated by J-Rider, sent shivers through many of the spectator’s backs.

Adariel, mere steps away from her, stopped in his tracks as soon as one of his feet crossed the boundary between the colors and the black and white atmosphere. His face showed confusion as he opened his eyes wide and tried to look around, but he couldn’t move an inch. The spectators could see how the darkness was wrapping all around him, like tentacles made of black, dense ink.

The Leporian’s ears twitched as she raised her other arm, and a mass of black energy began to swirl on her upturned palm. It slowly began to release small fragments that gradually took the shape of bats, and unleashed them in her opponent’s direction.

Adariel watched in helplessness as more darkness surrounded him, a multitude of bat-like creatures covering him, biting furiously into his flesh. But he relished the pain, a deranged smile forming on his face as his whole body suddenly erupted into a fierce explosion.

A cloud of monochrome smoke covered his retreat as he jumped backward, outside the range of Lucretia’s aura. He heaved heavily, laughing creepily between breaths, his body exuding visibly heat due to his fiery abilities.

“You… you’re so scary… I’m so hard right now!” He exclaimed, the crowd letting out words of complaint out of disgust.

Lucretia calmly watched him, her dark aura slowly expanding around her. Adariel took notice of her range, and started walking back slowly, humming to himself as he analyzed the situation. Despite his appearance suggesting that he had, at most, two brain cells, he was cunning and liked to strategize. His desire to overcome his opponents fueled by impure, repulsive thoughts.

He tilted his head while raising his right hatchet, and promptly slashed at the air in a downward swing. From the blade emanated an unruly flame, which followed along the path of a shockwave toward the black domain of the Leporian.

The fiery attack clashed against the boundaries of the darkness, fire splitting in all directions and scorching the air, as if an invisible barrier protected Lucretia’s surroundings. The crowd let out amazed sounds and cheers, and even Ascalon, atop the balcony, was captivated by the girl’s mysterious abilities.

It was clear that, for the moment, she had the upper hand, and by a huge margin. But Adariel hadn’t shown all his abilities yet, so the match’s victor was still uncertain…