"No thanks."
"I don't follow Ogres."
Piers' smile disappeared.
His eyes bulged with fury.
He hated nothing more than being called an Ogre—
And Osric already knew that.
'The information seems to be correct.'
'Good. I got under his skin.'
"You fucking bastard!"
Piers charged at Osric, despite the referee not announcing the fight yet.
Piers was halfway across the pit before anyone reacted.
The referee shouted immediately.
"Wait!"
Piers didn't.
His heavy steps slammed against the stone floor.
Osric didn't retreat in panic.
He moved.
Sideways.
Sharp.
Piers' first swing tore past him, wide and brutal, cutting through the space where his head had been a moment before.
The air shifted against Osric's cheek.
'Fast enough.'
Not fast.
Not compared to him.
But fast enough that one mistake would end everything.
The referee stumbled back, face pale.
"Hold!"
Piers turned his head slowly.
His expression was twisted with rage.
The referee swallowed.
Then, instead of trying again, he raised his voice.
"On one side stands the undefeated challenger, Osric! Nineteen wins and no losses!"
The crowd roared.
Osric flexed his fingers once.
The bandages wrapped around his fists tightened over his knuckles.
His eyes stayed on Piers.
The referee turned, voice louder now, almost forced.
"And facing him—one of the seven champions of this arena!"
"The Wall!"
"With ninety-three wins and only four losses—Piers!"
The roar that followed was different.
Heavier.
Crueler.
Piers rolled his shoulders.
His bare hands opened and closed slowly.
No bandages.
No protection.
As if he didn't care what broke.
Osric lowered his stance.
'Ninety-three wins.'
'Four losses.'
'And Garrick said he couldn't do anything against him.'
Piers grinned again.
But there was no humor in it now.
Only anger.
Only hunger.
The referee looked between them.
Then stepped back fast.
"Fight!"
Piers moved first.
Fast.
Far too fast for someone his size.
His body crashed forward with monstrous momentum, the stone beneath his feet shaking under each step.
Osric's instincts screamed.
Move.
Now.
A massive hand shot toward him—
Not a punch.
A grab.
Osric twisted away immediately.
Barely.
Piers' fingers brushed against his shirt—
And tore part of it apart effortlessly.
The crowd exploded.
"He almost got him!"
Osric didn't stop moving.
He circled sharply.
Light.
Fast.
Trying to create space.
But Piers kept following.
Not rushed.
Not reckless anymore.
Just advancing.
Every step felt heavy.
Oppressive.
Like a wall slowly closing in.
'Too much pressure.'
Osric stepped in suddenly.
A quick strike toward the jaw—
Fast.
Clean.
It landed.
"Thud."
Piers' head shifted slightly.
That was all.
No stagger.
No hesitation.
His grin widened.
Then—
he swung.
Osric reacted instantly.
Too late.
The forearm smashed into his guard and sent him skidding sideways across the pit.
Pain exploded through both arms.
His muscles went numb for a second.
'…Heavy.'
No—
not heavy.
Absurd.
Osric reset his footing immediately before Piers could close in again.
But Piers was already there.
Another grab.
Another brutal swing.
No combinations.
No elegance.
Just constant killing pressure.
Osric ducked under the next strike—
A fist tore over his head—
Close enough that he felt the air shift again.
He countered immediately.
Two fast strikes to the ribs.
Then one toward the throat.
Sharp.
Precise.
Efficient.
But Piers walked through them.
Like they didn't matter.
His hand closed suddenly—
And caught Osric's wrist.
The entire arena reacted.
"HE GOT HIM!"
Osric's eyes widened.
'Shit.'
The grip felt inhuman.
Like iron locking around his arm.
Piers laughed.
Loud.
Violent.
"Kahahahaha!"
"I got you now!"
He yanked Osric toward him with terrifying force.
Osric's balance broke instantly.
Then the punch came.
Straight toward his face.
Osric twisted desperately at the last possible moment.
Instead of his face—
The fist crashed into the side of his shoulder.
"BOOM!"
Pain exploded through his body.
A sickening crack echoed inside him.
His entire left side went numb.
The impact launched him across the pit.
He crashed against the stone floor hard enough to bounce once before rolling.
The arena fell silent.
Completely.
Even Osric's hearing rang.
His vision blurred for a second.
'…My shoulder.'
Pain surged through him violently.
Not bruised.
Not strained.
Something was damaged.
Badly.
And across the pit—
Piers kept walking toward him.
Slow.
Grinning.
Like a monster approaching wounded prey.