Chương 136: How the Strong Ones Fight

The Arena looked as though one more alley would bring them to it. But at the end of the alley another road opened. The wide outer wall kept pace with them above the rooftops, and it stood a little taller every time Kichan looked up. The closer they came, the more stairs and entrances attached to the wall became visible. Tent shops stood packed along its outer ring. On one side someone was grinding a weapon's edge. Orange sparks flew each time the whetstone turned.

On another side, bandages and herbs were piled up, and beside them meat skewers and hot soup were being sold. Spectators climbed the wide stairs. Participants holding weapons lined up at a door leading down. A separate door existed for fighters coming out covered in blood. People waiting outside it took the injured arms and wrapped them in bandages. Paul watched that side and slowed his steps.

"Are you all right?" When Kichan asked, Paul nodded.

"It looks like there will be a great deal to pray over."

"If you do all of it here, you will not be able to move."

"I know that." Riphiel looked up the spectator stairs.

"Let us go in first." The passage inside was dark. Noise from outside struck the stone walls and bounced several times. The closer the roar came, the more it split into separate sounds instead of one mass. Cursing and laughter, feet stamping, metal cups striking tables. Past the end of the passage, the arena floor opened all at once. Kichan stopped walking. Below lay a broad floor of packed dirt. A low stone wall ringed it, and above that the spectator seats rose in tiers.

On the highest seats across from them, a long sunshade hung down. Two demonkin inside the arena floor were measuring their distance. One had thick arms and shoulders and held two short clubs. The other had a slim body and a long tail. Several metal rings were fitted onto the tip of the tail. The clubs moved first. As the thick arm cut through the air, the slim demonkin slid sideways. The club struck the ground. Dirt sprayed as far as the front row of seats. People shouted.

Kichan watched the feet rather than the attacks. The heel of the one who dodged scraped the ground. His body slipped sideways, but his tail swung the opposite way. The metal rings wrapped around the ankle of the club-wielding demonkin. The pull was not strong. But his body, already pitched forward, could not hold against even that small force. One knee touched the ground. The spectators stood up at once. Riphiel leaned her upper body forward too.

"That one wins." She pointed at the slim demonkin. Argaon, not even seated, folded his arms.

"Not yet."

"He has his foot tied."

"He got caught once, that is all." The club-wielding demonkin simply turned his body. The tail wrapped around his ankle was pulled taut, and the slim demonkin's body was dragged forward instead. A thick elbow drove into his side. Riphiel's mouth closed. Argaon laughed.

"Saw that?" The slim demonkin rolled across the ground but got up at once. He lowered the hand pressing his side and opened the distance again.

"It is not over yet."

"That is what you just said."

"I said he would win." Kichan found an empty seat and sat down. Paul sat beside him, and Riphiel and Argaon leaned against the front row. The two of them picked opposite sides until the match ended. When the slim demonkin snatched one of the clubs, Riphiel slapped her knee with her palm. When the club-wielding demonkin seized the tail and slammed it into the ground, Argaon leaned forward. By the end, neither demonkin could stand properly. The slim demonkin raised his hand first.

Cursing erupted from one side of the stands and cups clashed on the other. Argaon looked at Riphiel.

"So I won."

"He merely raised his hand first."

"That is what losing means." Instead of answering, Riphiel opened the small pouch at her waist. She took out one dried fruit and threw it to Argaon. Argaon put it in his mouth the moment he caught it. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I choose the next one." Paul looked between the two of them and the arena.

"Did you two just make a bet?"

"Nothing big." Kichan said.

"One thing to eat."

"Did we not come here to fetch someone?"

"He told us to come to the Arena."

"Is watching and betting not different things?" The next fighters came into the arena. One had blue scales on his back and arms; the other was short but held a long chain in both hands. Argaon pointed at the blue scales.

"That one." Riphiel looked at the one with the chain.

"I take the other side." Kichan looked at the arena too.

"Me too. The chain."

"Why?"

"You have been watching nothing but the feet since earlier." Laughter came from the next seat. Three demonkin with short horns and wide jaws were watching them. One of them raised the cup in his hand toward Kichan.

"I do not know where you came from, but you know how to play." He pointed at his companions.

"Let us in on it too." Kichan shifted sideways to make room.

"What are you putting up?" The demonkin each laid a small stake in the middle of the table.

"Is this enough?" When Argaon reached out, one of the demonkin slapped the back of his hand.

"Take it when it is over."

"I should at least see what it is." All three demonkin laughed at once. The second match was shorter than the first. Before the chain caught the blue-scaled one's feet, it wrapped around his wrist. When the scaled demonkin pulled the chain, the small body lifted into the air. When the match ended, what had been laid in the middle of the table moved between several hands. While they argued over who took what, the next fighters came in.

In the next match, Kichan and one of the demonkin beside him picked the same fighter. When the fighter dodged an attack, the two of them slapped their knees at the same time. Argaon waved a hand from the other side, and Riphiel pointed at where the opponent had planted his foot wrong. The demonkin who had first sat a seat apart edged closer and closer. Someone laughed and slapped Kichan's shoulder, and someone clapped when Riphiel's fighter went down. Paul had somehow ended up with a demonkin on either side of him.

He did not join the betting, but when asked who was on which side he answered with a finger. Some time later, the wide-jawed demonkin pointed at the center of the arena.

"Why don't you go out there once?" Kichan pointed at himself.

"Me?"

"You carry a rod around." The demonkin's gaze dropped to the wake-up rod propped beside Kichan.

"That is not the face of someone who came only to watch."

"What do I have to do to go out there?" The demonkin leaned over and pointed below the far side of the arena. A table and a window were attached to the middle of the low stone wall. Participants touched paper or showed their weapons, then went through a door inside.

"Sign up at the central desk over there. They give you a little money after you fight. Not much, though." Argaon turned to Kichan.

"Go out there."

"Why."

"We will need money if we are going to stay here a while anyway." Kichan looked at Argaon for a moment.

"You saw me pay for the meal with gold earlier."

"That was the price of one meal." Riphiel asked the wide-jawed demonkin.

"What do they give besides money?"

"Things like gold lumps or weapons." The demonkin looked at Kichan's wake-up rod and then at Riphiel again.

"Good-quality items are accepted as payment in plenty of places." Kichan stood.

"I will do one and come back." Paul reached for his sleeve and missed.

"You are truly going out there?"

"He said they give money."

"For that reason?"

"Doing it yourself is faster than watching." Kichan picked up the wake-up rod and went down the stairs. At the central desk they asked for his name and his weapon. Kichan gave his name and laid the wake-up rod on the table. When the clerk lifted it, his wrist dropped with a thud.

"First time competing in the lower tier?"

"Yes."

"Your opponent is about to move up to the middle tier."

"Can I be switched to someone else?"

"If you do not like it, wait." Kichan looked up at the stands. Riphiel and Paul were watching him. Argaon's seat was empty.

"I will just take it." As he went into the participants' passage, the murmuring in the stands grew louder. His opponent came out onto the arena floor first. He was a demonkin with a thick neck and long arms. An old scar ran across his right shoulder, and he held no weapon at all. When he rolled his arm once, the front-row spectators shouted his name. At the official betting window, coins and goods piled up on one side only. Argaon was standing in front of it.

When he opened his hand, a fist-sized lump of gold sat in it. The mouth of the wide-jawed demonkin who had followed him fell open.

"Where did you get that?"

"It is mine." Argaon showed him the gold.

"How much would this be worth?" The demonkin looked at the lump of gold closely without touching it.

"At the very least, it would buy a house." Argaon pushed the gold through the window at once.

"All of it on that human." The clerk looked between the gold and Kichan.

"He is a first-time entrant."

"I know."

"His opponent is going up to the middle tier soon."

"I heard that too." The clerk took the lump of gold in both hands and put it on the scale. In the arena, Kichan gripped the wake-up rod. The opposing demonkin raised his bare hands to show them.

"You are going to hit me with that?"

"If it hurts, surrender." Laughter burst from the stands. His opponent laughed too.

"If you do not fall first, I will consider it." A metal plate rang out to signal the start. The demonkin closed the distance at once. His feet pressed deep into the dirt. When the large body moved, Kichan's front was blocked all at once. Kichan slipped half a step to the side and swung the wake-up rod in a short arc. The end of the rod grazed his opponent's forearm. There was not even the sensation of a proper hit. And yet the demonkin stopped. The laughter was gone. He looked down at the arm that had been grazed.

There was not a single red mark on the skin. He curled and uncurled his fingers, then looked at Kichan's rod.

"What was that?" Kichan went in again. This time the demonkin pulled his body back. When the wake-up rod passed in front of his chest, he switched his feet and retreated farther. Jeers came from the stands.

"What are you doing!"

"Grab him!" The demonkin did not look back at the stands. When Kichan took one step, he backed two. When Kichan circled right, his opponent slipped the same way. The fists never came out. Kichan stopped in the middle of the arena floor.

"Are you not going to fight?" The demonkin's gaze was fixed on the end of the wake-up rod. When Kichan moved the rod to his other hand, his body moved that way too. The laughter and jeering from the stands gradually quieted. Kichan suddenly closed the distance. The demonkin jumped back. His heel touched the low stone wall. There was nowhere left to retreat. Kichan raised the rod.

"Surrender." The demonkin raised both hands. The metal plate rang. The arena was quiet for a moment. Kichan lowered the rod he had raised.

"I had not hit you yet." The opposing demonkin did not take his back off the stone wall. On one side of the stands, someone began to laugh. The laughter spread quickly, but in front of the official betting window no one laughed. The clerks kept looking between the lump of gold worth a house and the stakes that had piled up on one side. Only Argaon stood with his arms folded.