The next match kicked off between a massive, four-armed brute named Ox and an old, shredded man with nothing but a thick beard on him.
Ox cracked all four knuckles at once, his muscles bulging like boulders. "Hope you don't break too fast, old man."
The elder just smiled, rolling his neck. "Heh… my bones may creak, but they don't snap easy."
The crowd roared as both stepped forward, the air between them growing heavy.
Ox lunged forward, both right arms swinging like hammers. The ground cracked under his charge. But the old man didn't even flinch — with a calm wave of his single arm, he parried both strikes effortlessly, redirecting Ox's momentum like brushing away dust.
Ox unleashed a barrage of punches, his four arms moving like a storm. But the old man flowed with every strike — smooth, controlled, effortless. Each deflection rang out with the sharp clang of metal, echoing through the arena as if steel met steel instead of flesh.
With a calm exhale, the old man stepped in and drove his fist straight into Ox's solar plexus. The impact was thunderous — BOOM! — sending Ox flying across the arena and crashing into the stone wall, leaving a deep crack where he hit. The crowd fell silent for a moment, stunned.
Ox roared and charged again, but the old man leapt high, landing right above him. Hanging upside down in mid-air, he placed two fingers over Ox's forehead.
"Sorry, my large friend… if you lose a bit of memory."
Snap!
The sound echoed—then Ox's body was slammed straight into the ground like a falling boulder, the arena floor cracking beneath the impact.
"Old man…" Ox growled, stepping back as his muscles bulged. "I'll take you seriously now."
His heartbeat thundered like a drum. Veins snaked across his body, pulsing under his skin as a fierce aura burst out of him. With a deafening roar, he launched himself at the old man once more—faster, heavier, and far more dangerous than before.
In a split second, everything froze—the dust, the sound, even Ox's raging motion. The old man cracked his neck with a faint smile. "Yare yare… young men these days."
He stepped forward calmly, his movements slow yet precise, pressing a few vital points on Ox's body before walking past him.
Boom! Ox's body hit the ground, completely unconscious.
The old man exhaled, straightening his back as the crowd erupted in cheers. "Looks like we've got our winner," the announcer shouted, "Master Ryo!"
The next match was between two women — one with snake-like tattoos slithering across her skin, wearing a deep purple dress that wrapped around her chest and legs, her name was Selaira.
Her opponent stood tall with a wide hat casting a shadow over her sharp eyes, her robe a dark shade of green — Verda.
The moment the match began, Selaira raised her hand slightly and said calmly, "I give up."
The entire arena fell silent — even the announcer blinked in confusion before stammering, "Uh… s-so, Verda wins by forfeit!"
The next match was between Grain, a massive brute carrying twin axes almost his own height, and Kyro, a slim, masked fighter armed with just two short daggers.
The moment the bell rang, Grain roared and charged, his axes cutting through the air with terrifying force. Kyro didn't move — not until the last second. Then, with a swift slide, he vanished from Grain's line of sight.
A sharp clang echoed. One of Grain's axe handles split clean in half.
"What the—?!" Grain turned, swinging his other axe wildly, but Kyro was already behind him — silent, precise.
Within moments, Grain's armour had small cuts across every joint. He fell to one knee, his weapons broken, breathing heavily.
Kyro stood over him and muttered, "You're strong… but too loud."
The announcer raised his hand, "Winner — Kyro!"
The first round came to an end, and the crowd roared as the dust settled across the arena.
The announcer's voice echoed through the air, "And that's it, folks! We now have our six winners who'll move to the next stage of the games!"
The six stood in a line — Rex, Ema, Zek, the Old Man (known as Ryo), Kyro, and Verda. Each one carried a different aura — fire, calm, mystery, strength, silence, and Charming.
The king stood from his seat, clapping proudly. "Splendid performance, all of you! Rest for now. Tomorrow… your real challenge begins."
The crowd erupted in cheers once again as the six warriors bowed and left the arena grounds, ready for what awaited them next.
Rex walked over to Ema with a grin. "Yo! That slam you gave Jack was insane. You're pretty strong."
Ema glanced at him, resting her sword on her shoulder. "You know, calling it a slam isn't exactly the smoothest way to compliment a lady." She gave a small smirk. "But thanks. And yeah, I'm strong. Anyway, Rex—want to grab something to eat?" Her tone stayed calm, almost casual, but confident.
Zek stood before Trickster, his calm yet firm aura matching the quiet tension between them. "Tell me, doesn't it bother you? Becoming a leader without even raising your blade to prove yourself?"
Trickster gave him nothing—just cold silence.
Zek's voice remained calm, almost measured. "One day we'll clash, Trickster. And I'll burn that arrogance right out of you."
Eleza watched from the side, letting out a quiet sigh. "Seriously… were they even listening during the king's assembly? We literally talked about how he blew up the entire underworld."