“Gideon?” Leila ears jerked upright as she stood, furred hands gripping tightly at the box’s wooden railing.

“Lord Leila, please calm down,” Roethus said. “The medics will-”

“Ah, he got him,” Diana said with a wince. “Defeated twice with the same attack… that’s gotta hurt.”

“Gideon!” Ignoring Roethus’ words, Leila leaped over the timber and down into the crowd below. Smashing the hapless onlookers aside, the beast-woman burst her way through the arena wards and rushed to Gideon’s side.

“Match over!” Benvolio said suddenly. “So short…”

“It’s okay, my lord.” Roethus waved his hand, motioning the medics out of the arena with Gideon as they began to cast their magic. “I’m sure the next match will be better.”

“Hey,” Diana said, pointing down to where Leila had lifted the former knight’s greatsword from the sand. “Shouldn’t we be doing something about that?”

“Wait a moment,” Benvolio said. Leaning forwards, he clapped his hands as the beast-woman began to chase Christoph around the arena floor. “She’s strong! Do you really think you can beat her?”

“I’ll be fine,” Diana said with a frown. “For now, can you please stop her from killing my companion?”

“No way!” Benvolio’s chains jangled as he shook his head. “Look at that! Look at him running around. Look at… she really does have large breasts, doesn’t she?”

“You’re right,” Diana replied. “I wonder if it hurt when they bounce like that.”

“My lord…” Roethus made a pained expression as he bowed his head. “Please stop Lord Leila from killing the contestants.”

“Fine, fine,” Benvolio said. Waving his hand, he sighed as Leila was lifted into the air, sword still swinging. “There. When’s the next match starting up?”

…

Christoph collapsed onto the sand, throwing himself to the side as the gigantic greatsword spun past him to pierce into the arena floor. Falling onto his back, he closed his eyes, letting his weapons flow back through his arms and into his body. The wounds he’d taken during the match throbbed painfully as they closed, and he clenched his left fist as the tendons of his right arm slowly regrew. If he didn’t eat something soon-

“Here.” A small weight forced the air from his lungs as Diana appeared above him, the bag she’d dropped spreading warmth throughout his chest. “I see you got to meet with lord furball after all.”

“Crystals?” he asked, sitting up with a wince. “I need to eat some actual food this time.”

“No, I eat actual food,” Diana replied. “You eat landsharks and dragons.”

“Whatever.” Christoph shoved a handful of the small crystals into his mouth, swallowing the majority of them whole. “Monster meat tastes better, and it’s cheaper. Works better, too.”

“Yeah, well the arena doesn’t exactly kill off a landshark every night,” Diana said, turning away from him. “Now get up, the next match is starting.”

Rolling onto front, Christoph pushed himself to his feet with his left hand. Swiping the sack of crystals from the sand, he stumbled away in pursuit of the elven woman. Ignoring the itching of his right arm, he hooked the sack into his belt before changing course to retrieve the missing chunk of his forearm. How long would it take his arm to heal, anyway?

“Are you going to eat that?” Diana asked, leading him towards the barred gates.

“I might,” he replied. “If it wasn’t covered in sand, I might try sticking it back together. Regular cuts or stab wounds usually heal much faster than this.”

“You rely on your regeneration too much,” Diana said with a frown. Opening the door, she pushed him into the brick-walled room beyond. The murmuring roars of the crowd dropped away as they moved under the stands, the arena wards appearing behind them to seal the crowd off from the fighters below. “A set of armor wouldn’t kill you, you know?”

“Yeah yeah,” Christoph said, slumping down heavily on the wooden benches set up against the opposite wall. Shifting around, he made sure he could still see most of the arena through the bars of the massive gate. “Well, I’m not going off to the Merry brothers to buy some now. I have to watch this match.”

“You haven’t been staying the whole day, have you?” Diana asked. “Did you even watch all of yesterday’s matches?”

“No way,” he said. “Actually I’m not even sure who the other semi-finalists are.”

“You haven’t even been keeping up with the brackets?” Diana sighed as she sat down next to him. “It’s been a rout. The best of the gold rankers are out on quests, of course, but even so three out of four finalists are Benvolio’s ‘guests’ and the other is you…”

“Benvolio’s guests?” Christoph asked, watching his arm slowly heal as he worked his way through the sack of gems. “Where are they from?”

“They’re from the church,” Diana said as Cliff and Sierra made their way out onto the sand. “I assumed you already knew.”

…

“I was surprised to see you here.” Lucius tilted his head as he looked down at the pale knight, glasses glinting in the strips of morning light that leaked through the barred gates. “Are you well?”

“I am,” Gideon replied from where he sat. “The forest is where I belong.”

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of trying to ‘rescue’ you,” Lucius said, “I was just curious as to your motivation for this incident. One final order from the church, is it? I’m glad you weren’t doing this out of a desire for revenge.”

“Your gift is as accurate as ever.” Gideon forced himself to his feet, making his way across the room to the barred gates. Identical rooms were set up in a circle around the stadium, so he couldn’t be sure of where Christoph was at the moment… was he watching the match?

“Christoph is with his companion on the other side of the arena,” Lucius said, joining the former knight by the bars. “He appears to be surprised to see Cliff and Sierra.”

“”What a carefree man.” Gideon grumbled as he spoke, reaching a hand up to pat at where his wound had been. “Can you see what the siblings have planned?”

“I can,” Lucius said. “I’d say they have a fair chance of success.”

“Hmmm… I’m not sure if I should be glad or not,” Gideon said. “The archbishop is taking his schemes too far this time.”

“Ah, here she goes.” Lucius gestured towards the sand as Sierra threw down her staff, her sword following close behind. “I can’t say I approve of her forfeit. It might be a sound tactical decision, but Lord Benvolio will certainly be displeased.”

“It’s no business of mine anymore,” Gideon replied, turning away from the younger man. “I should go. Leila will be waiting.”

“Be well,” Lucius said, nodding his head in a short bow. “Stay safe.”

…

“She forfeit?!” Benvolio dropped his goblet of chilled wine, bright red liquid splashing out over Roethus’ legs. “She can’t do that!”

“They’re siblings, my lord,” Roethus replied. “It’s understandable that they wouldn’t want to continue the battles.”

“I fight with my family all the time!” Benvolio said, golden chains clanking as he beat at the railing. “Can’t they just have this one duel?”

“You shouldn’t force your citizens into battle,” Leila said, lifting her feet to avoid the puddle of wine. “Battle is something that should stir the blood.”

“Those two aren’t my citizens, though,” Benvolio said, eyebrows lowering into a frown. “Where’s Diana, anyway?”

“She went to see her companion,” Leila replied. “As I would have done, had you not dragged me back to this place.”

“You attacked a contestant, Lord Leila,” Roethus said. “We would have gladly allowed you to see to your companion otherwise.”

“That man’s life is property of my family in any case.” Leila rested her heels on the wooden railing, leaning back against her luxuriously cushioned seat. “My sister might not approve of my actions, but-”

“Your sister isn’t here,” Roethus said. “But Lord Benvolio is, and he’d appreciate it if you obeyed his rules.”

Benvolio nodded in approval of the guild master’s words, stretching his legs in imitation of the beast woman. Kicking out, he frowned as he realized he wouldn’t be able to reach the railing from where he sat. Leaning forwards he looked down at the wine-soaked floorboards, glancing back up at the distant railing before turning towards Roethus.

“I would prefer if you didn’t move your furniture about,” Roethus said. “Please maintain your composure in public, my lord.”

“She has to do it too, then!” Benvolio said, frowning over at where Leila’s furred limbs were on full display. “It’s not fair… why does she get to be so tall?”

…

Christoph grinded his teeth as he made his way back out onto the sand. Those two had been here the whole time? Why hadn’t he seen them during the opening ceremony? No, he recalled seeing two people already standing in the arena when he’d arrived, but he’d assumed they had simply been impatient… If he’d just stayed behind for one more match yesterday, he would have seen one of them fighting! Sierra forfeiting meant he didn’t even get to observe one of their duels, and now he was being forced back into the arena so soon…

“Hello,” Cliff said with a nod. “It’s good to see you well.”

“Fuck off,” Christoph replied. “Did the two of you come here with the Executioner?” If they were after revenge, Cliff would definitely try to kill him in the next match as well. Was poison allowed in the duels? No, he couldn’t expect a glorified assassin to play by the rules. He’d have to be careful to avoid all of Cliff’s arrows during the fight.

“Of course not,” Cliff said. “We came here with Saint Lucius. What Sir Gideon chooses to do has nothing to do with us or the church any more.”

“You still call him Sir Gideon, though.” Christoph grimaced as he took in the adventurer’s appearance. Leather armor, a short bow, and now a sword? Had he purchased one for the purpose of the duels? An archer would usually be protected from close combat by his party members, but this was a different matter.

“I didn’t come here to chat with you,” Cliff said, checking over his bow and pulling his sword an inch from its scabbard before letting it fall back down. “Christoph Smith, I, Cliff of the Creator’s Blessed, challenge you to a duel! In return for ending Henry’s life, I will send you screaming to back to Tempter.”

“I accept,” Christoph replied. “I’ve been meaning to get around to visiting him some day. I hear the demon realm is nice this time of year. Unlike Lucius and the other two, I never did get to meet any gods on my way here.”

“Fight!” Benvolio rose up from his chair to begin the match, turning to look at Roethus with an expression of regret as wine splashed up over his feet.

Cliff loosed his first arrow before Benvolio’s voice had finished echoing throughout the coliseum, the feathered shaft soaring over the sand as Christoph dodged to the side. Nocking another, he began to release the projectiles in rapid succession. Both the strength and accuracy of his individual attacks suffered from his haste, but the barrage of missiles was successful in forcing his opponent back across the sand.

“I was wondering how an archer would fight in a duel,” Christoph said. “You’re just like that mage. Jericho, was it?”

“Save it,” Cliff said. “Unlike you, I was watching all three of your matches. I’ve seen how you fight.” Nocking two shafts, he took aim and let loose.

Christoph twitched as the arrows flashed towards him, suppressing his urge to dive to the side. The arrows weren’t on course to hit him in the first place, so if he stood still… No, a crackling thread of mana connected the two arrowheads as they approached. A spell! Ducking under the attack, Christoph leaped away as his opponent’s third arrow sped through the air.

“That was close,” Christoph said. “I almost missed that little trick of yours.”

“Tch.” Cliff clicked his tongue, breath hissing out at Christoph’s words.”Stay still, I’ll make this fast.”

Christoph grinned at the adventurer’s frustration, glancing down at Cliff’s bow. One arrow nocked, the quiver at his side still seemingly full… was he using teleportation magic to retrieve his spent projectiles? So much for the sacred magic of the gods. In that case, there was no point in waiting for him to run out of ammunition.

Taking a step forwards, Christoph widened his sword’s blade. His opponent had already seen his entire arsenal of tricks, so there was no use hiding them now. Dashing past Cliff’s next arrow, he sprinted across the sand towards the bowman. Although they’d began the match a scant five meters apart, he’d been pushed backwards until more than ten meters separated them.

Cliff’s next missile narrowly missed him as he approached, and the adventurer’s third arrow was nocked and ready by the time he was a mere two meters away. Christoph’s crystal blade blurred as it swept through the projectile, the wooden shaft splitting mid-air as Cliff tried to dodge away from his attack. A burst of mana surged out over the arena, and Christoph’s eyes widened as his abdomen exploded with pain. Twisting his sword in Christoph’s stomach, Cliff sawed his blade around in an arc.

“You should be wary of appearances,” the knight said as half of Christoph’s guts slid free to the sand below. “Being skilled with a bow doesn’t make me an archer. As a member of the Creator’s Blessed, my weapon is the sword, just like my sister’s is.”