Dragged through the air without consideration he had come far too close to failure. There was still time left to improve his situation though. caught in the Overlord's invisible grasp, Otis stayed still, focusing his energy on heat dispersal. The newly forged hammer was dangerously hot. He had managed to quench the weapon with several buckets of somewhat cold water but the weapon was still too hot to hold. Starting the bout without being able to hold his own weapon, it didn't bode well but it was leagues better than he would have been had he been even ten seconds slower. Huddled in a mass of leftover leather straps from his armour forging, he could feel the heat of the weapon trying to scold him.
More fortunately, whilst Otis' previous bouts had been fought with impromptu and poorly conceived ideas of armour design that wasn't the case this time. His weapon was worse but his defences were far greater. This time he wore a gladiatorial suit of armour. Greaves and bracers covered his shin, calves, and forearms, each strong and complete with rolling mechanisms and failsafes. The helmet too had been easy enough to design. Simon Crow's helmet in 'Gladiator' was not only fitting but appropriate for this style of combat, somewhat resembling a cross between a traditional spartan helmet and a boxing headguard. Unlike the traditional fighting in the coliseum, there was every likelihood that he was going to get knocked on his arse or sent skipping across the dirt. The helm was tightly fitted with a leather inlay to stop movement, its more compact size would help Otis slip glancing blows, and several patches of angled metal would increase the chance of stray attacks sliding instead of absorbing all the momentum.
The torso and the shoulder armour had been harder to design. Whilst the immovable aspect of shins, forearms, and skull made them simple enough to cover, Otis would need mobility. The shoulders had pauldrons but the segmented armour sat high on the arm. He couldn't afford to risk any mobility. Where there would be bare skin below was instead covered with leather sleeves studded with metal plates. The Torso was most heavily armoured across the chest and upper back, but a network of leather and metal formed a covering over the abdomen. Otis was more able to carry heavy loads than he ever had been, though he had opted for lighter armour. What good was surviving a strike if you were too slow to act upon any openings? The shield was where he had made his greatest strides, an ordinary circular shield that would cover his torso and yet its grey surface hid the intricacies of his improved skill. Interwoven layers strengthened the metal time and again, created when the shield was a red-hot molten mass. Now cool, the shield was inconspicuously his strongest defensive armament but also the heaviest.
All-in-all, the young mage looked like a professional gladiatorial warrior compared to his first appearance in the arena.
"HAVE WE SEEN WHAT THIS MONSTER IS TRULY CAPABLE OF?"
"Ahk!"
Even expecting the sudden blast of light and sound Otis grunted as the hammer slipped, even momentarily the metal still too hot to touch for long. There was little that could be done to cool the hammer further, this wasn't Otis' speciality. Using his Manipulate skill on the weapon was too hard but directing the flow of energy by allowing the particles to vibrate evenly across the whole object helped with energy dispersal... or at least he hoped so. Theoretically, it made sense but he hadn't had enough time to experiment with this sort of minutia, before now it simply hadn't been a problem.
"WILL THIS BE 'FORTUNE'S END'?!"
Unaware of the title of today's showcase event and too preoccupied preparing to try and not die, the young mage didn't realise just how directly his death was being orchestrated. As soon as his feet touched the floor, the hammer fell too, kicked across the dirt to transfer the heat still held within the weapon. After a short distance, Otis picked the weapon up and continued to allow the heat to spread evenly within the weapon by moving the vibrational energy from the innermost areas of the war hammer to the out. It was a short process but one that Otis would repeat until he couldn't afford to any longer. Although it would have been faster to still the movement within the hammer completely, doing so would have been too difficult and exhausting a process then Otis could afford and energy had to go somewhere. If he was fortunate enough to survive the following battle, maybe this was a skill to pursue properly. Ideally, another few buckets of water could have been used to quench the new war hammer quickly, this was perhaps the worst alternative he had.
"DOG OF WAR... BESTIAL NIGHTMARE... THEY SCAVENGE THE LANDS IN BETWEEN AND NOW THEY DOMINATE THIS PIT... BEWARE THE FELL HOUND!"
A quick glance was all Otis needed to know this was an unfair matchup. This 'fell hound' was huge, a far cry from the mana-affected wolves. This was a creature born of the arcane and definitely a higher level than his measly three levels. The so-called hound rippled with muscle. Even at a distance, the short patches of fur failed to hide the green vascularity that traced each of its powerful limbs and throat. Like a Savannah dog on a metric shitload of steroids, the fell hound was far larger than any equivalent on Earth and easily stood taller than Otis. It more closely resembled the mythic stature of a werewolf, with its more humanoid limbs, albeit cast in a sandy, black-dot speckled coat, instead of the traditional grey, black, or brown.
Touching the hammer, it was still hot... almost too hot. Sweaty hands were a small price to pay for a weapon in a fight to the death Otis thought, pleased with his work. The war hammer lacked the lustre of his original creation but it would have to do. Jostling the war hammer in his grasp to give his hand a break, Otis wondered just how hot the hammer might feel without his lowered endurance. Was he able to tolerate the discomfort for longer or did it feel more tolerable because of his increased stats?
"AURHHHH"
The long rasping scream of the beast entering the arena made Otis' blood run cold. Suddenly, the distance between them didn't seem nearly great enough nor did questions of sweaty hands feel as important.
Lowering its head the hound charged with wild abandon. The creature was fast but wild as it ran. Instead of streamlined efficiency it bound towards him with flailing limbs that seemed too long for its body.
Preparing to dodge the first charge, the creature's black eyes seemed to stare into Otis' soul as if predicting which way he would try to turn. The beast wasn't as fast as Atros had been but judging by the thundering ground, it was able to match the deceased guardian in terms of strength. The young smith had increased his own strength but the gap felt wildly disproportionate. Worse yet, as the flailing limbs beat ever closer it became apparent that dodging and weaving wouldn't be a viable strategy. It was too hard to predict where one of the muscled forelimbs would land, let alone the back. This first charge Otis would have to meet head-on.
Despite the gangly nature of the fell hound, it closed the distance between them quickly. Muscle memory kicked in as Otis channelled Mana Shielding into his shield, subconsciously enacting the first step out of countless training bouts. Hopefully, he wouldn't be totally crippled in this first clash. The fell hound looked absurdly strong and wildly compared to his previous opponents and, the closer it got, there didn't appear to be any sort of mana restraint.
*Boooom*
The collision of flesh and metal was immense. Momentum saw the fell hound continue over Otis' body as he was forced down to his knees, muscular legs audibly sailed past him on either side. For a moment, Otis' form was wholly consumed in the shadow of the hound. The strength of the beast was overwhelming but he had managed to absorb enough of the blow to make it tolerable, albeit barely. Still, his knees shook and his arms trembled as he stood to face the creature again.
No calmer after the first clash, spittle dripped and sprayed from the beast's muzzle as it panted and screeched. Again, the monster charged. Otis tightened his grasp on the hammer, almost forgetting the residual heat trying to cook his palm. Judging by the manic expression, it didn't look like the fell hound would tire without a truly severe counter-attack.
*Boooom*
Amidst the flailing limbs all the young mage could do was block, there was no obvious opening nor a path of attack that didn't feel overwhelmingly dangerous. Without time to think or plan, the beast turned around faster this time.
Teeth bared, the fell hound charged immediately again. Already Otis was breathing hard, his body aching from the previous two collisions.
Staring into the maw of the beast, the monster appeared to scream with every breath. Whether he realised it or not, his training had imbued him with a subconscious understanding of what he had to do. There was nowhere left to turn, only one response that his body knew to take before his mind caught up: forward. Without thinking, as the creature barrelled towards him Otis stepped forward. Putting his weight behind his shield and channelling his mana through its metal, he surged forward.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Immediately his momentum came to an abrupt halt and went in reverse. Thrown off balance, the crowd jeered as the late bloomer was sent sprawling. Carrying Otis with it, the beast barely had to turn before it turned to slam its thick forelimbs down to strike its prey. Despite Mana Shielding, the blow knocked the wind from Otis's lungs. With nowhere to go, he was crushed into the dirt, his lungs compressed under the sheer force.
"GAH," Otis retched as the air was forced from his lungs.
Thankfully, he was somewhat used to the sensation from his more rigorous training bouts. He was shocked but not incapacitated, as he would have been earlier in his gladiatorial journey.
Snarling, the beast snatched at the shield, trying to disable its opponent's strongest defence, for its teeth to clang against its surface. On its second attempt, Otis blocked and wildly swung. Instinctively he redirected his energy into the hammer and tensed as the hammer twisted in his grasp. He had hit something. The sensation had been strange. Made out of inferior materials the Mana Shielding had struggled to permeate the weapon as it had the original. Unfortunately, like his thoughts on sweaty palms and heat resistance, Otis lacked the time to examine this issue further. The fell hound slashed at Otis with one of its forelimbs, sending him scrambling. The physical power behind the monster was truly monstrous. Larger than Otis, it was like being tossed around by something twice as strong as a bear. He shuddered to think what just a single clawed strike had done to his shield
"AURHHHHHH"
Incensed by the return assault, the creature's scream ripped through the air louder than before. As Otis peered back at his opponent, the snarling maw of the fell hound drooled more than just saliva. Red-green ooze dripped from the creature as it howled. Somewhere within the sea of teeth several must have been missing or broken. It was a small victory over the fell hound but the trembling fatigue in Otis' limbs didn't fill him with confidence.
Despite the outcome of his first return charge the young mage tried again. The fell hound had injured its mouth and Otis intended to compound the issue for the creature. It was barely a plan but everything else was defended by the flurry of limbs, it was all he could do.
Meeting the fell hound's charge, at the last moment Otis flung himself toward the beast's howling maw. Rebuffed at force, the ground met the smith swiftly, knocking the air from his lungs yet again.
*SLAM*
The forelimbs of the beast made the ground shake, as Otis gasped for breath. Surprised the creature had missed his vulnerable position, Otis braced for an impact... but it never came. Peering around his shield, the fell hound was instead pawing at its own muzzle. Despite his vulnerable position, the beast had been wounded. His shield had been underestimated, flooded with mana as it was. The hound had been hit with an unmoving wall of metal and a price had been paid.
Despite Otis' good fortune, the fight took a savage twist after the fell hound's snout was injured. Instead of charging, the beast made use of its gangly limbs. Battering Otis' shield over and over, the creature stalked towards the boy. Unheard the sound of the crowd was reaching a fever pitch behind the invisible shielding. Blood was in the water and they sensed the fight reaching its climax. In only a few strikes, Otis became too fatigued to raise his shield properly and was sent flying. Knocking his shield out of the way, the creature's paw raked deep gouges across his breastplate.
Backing away was the only respite Otis had. The creature wasn't willing to properly charge him again but it happily stalked him towards the arena walls, walking on its hind legs. Otis could sense the looming wall close behind him but these were precious seconds of respite that he desperately needed. At the very least, Otis had forgotten the heat of his war hammer that had gradually cooled over the few minutes of combat.
A few deep breaths were all Otis could do to prepare, as his opponent further resembled a werewolf stalking its prey.
"One."
"Two," he jostled the war hammer in his palm so that the spiked rear faced frontwards.
"Three."
Rushing forward Otis spun. He took a glancing strike off the ruined surface of his shield and slipped in close to the fell hound. With only a second to act, he swung the war hammer with as much force as he could muster. Like hitting a brick wall, the thick muscle of the fell hound was thick but gave way to the condensed mental tip.
Rearing back against the pain, the beast received another opportunistic stab. Thrust upon a second time, the beast flailed railing against its attacker. As it perceived the roles of predator and prey switching, the creature began to panic.
A high-pitched ringing sounded out as the world came back into focus. Otis' shield had been caught with a glancing blow before a second raked across this helmet. The solid paw tore through the metal helm and gouged thick bloody lines through the skin hidden beneath. Instantly, Otis had been sent sprawling. Acting on auto-pilot, his thoughts tried to catch up to the situation. He had dropped his war hammer but it was close by. Scrambling to his weapon the beast sensed weakness.
The moment Otis wrapped his hand around the hammer his world started to move again. Caught in the jaws of the fell hound, he was caught by one of his greaves and pulled upside down. As several teeth pierced through the metal, some broken some not, and into his calf and shin he caught another blow from a flailed forearm across the top of his back. If the breastplate armour had only focused on a good frontal defence Otis would likely have paralysed. Whilst he could save his best Professor X impression for another day, the sudden impact was sickening. Rag-dolled, the young mage was shaken, thrown, and sent tumbling across the ground.
Compared to an impact to the head this reality was somehow better. Still, the fight had quickly taken its toll now and feeling warm blood quickly seeping from his sliced cheek was nauseating. The rest of the fight would be about timing and outright luck.
Scrambling to his feet, breathing heavily, Otis was thankful that he had managed to keep hold of the war hammer this time. Bleeding from his calf and cheek this fight to the death was working on a time limit now. How long until he became light-headed? How long was it until he started to lose his strength? Worse yet, this was a creature embued or born with an affinity for mana. Would he be further injured with some anti-coagulating agent applied through the hound's claws and teeth or could there be another magical component? There were too many unknowns too many things that, yet again, Otis didn't know.
Swinging his war hammer to meet his ruined shield, Otis refocused his gaze. Both to better channel Mana Shielding through the shredded layers of metal and to strengthen his own resolve. Something about the collision of metal on metal steadied his heart and he needed that, now more than ever.
Emboldened by its success, the fell hound rose back up onto its back legs and strode towards its prey, its own wounds staining its sandy fur red as it bled from two deep punctures. Despite its wounds, the fell hound seemed unaffected by its injuries.
'How fucking high are this thing's base stats?' Otis thought, his own endurance stats a measly '11' points and only '9' without his 'Undying Resolve'.
Otis managed to avoid taking more damage in the next couple of engagements, although the fatigue in his muscles was now a constant aching torment. Given the size and strength disparity, there were hardly any openings he was able to take advantage of. He ducked, he weaved, he blocked strikes that felt no less powerful than the start of their brawl. There just wasn't an open-
Driven by instinct alone Otis leapt forwards. The fell-hound over-extended with an overly ambitious swipe. Twisting away from him, the hound took shards of splintered metal to the face before a powerful backswing shunted Otis off to the side. The creature snarled as it recovered. It had all happened so quickly but now it became clear. Churned-up points of the shield had acted like small daggers to the beast's left eye. What once was a fierce predatory stare had become utterly menacing. A bloodied mess, surrounded by several other points of lacerated flesh, was in fact far more terrifying.
The end was near but for whom was unclear.
Keeping toward the creature's left side, the fell hound's attacks became more uncoordinated, revealing openings. Timed to perfection, Otis dashed into the beast's new blindspot before retreating. An expected retaliatory swing sailed past Otis before he struck with his own. The spiked end of the hammer tore a long gash under the hound's front limb.
Ducking and weaving through the progressively more panicked assault of the fell hound saw two more deep wounds ripped open on the beast's side.
"AURHH"
Partially blinded, heavily wounded, and in pain, the shout of the beast was a shell of its former strength. Just as its scream faltered so too did its attacks. The swings had become predictable and sluggish. Each telegraphed movement presented safer opportunities to attack. Instead of trying to find vitals Otis had worked at disabling the creature's methods of attack. Its front limbs had gashes littering them, blood smeared across the length of each forelimb. The supporting musculature bled with wounds across its muscular sides. Its teeth were a mess of mostly broken and bloodied stubs. Reduced to a shuffling husk of its former self, it felt like attacking a puppy.
'... it had to be one of us,' was Otis' only consolation. It wasn't true, it could have been neither of them. Their overlords had done this to both of them; they were both innocent in this fight.
Unable to protect itself or mount any meaningful attacks, the fell hound was slowly bled. Circling the still-dangerous predator, Otis savaged the blinded side of the beast with debilitating attacks. When he was sure his opponent was entirely lame a series of lethal blows pierced through the creature's spine and neck.
Rotating the war hammer back to the flatter face, Otis prepared to finish the fight.
"I'm sorry," he whispered gently, as the creature slumped before him. After all that he had done, this would be a mercy.
The war hammer landed on the beast's head three times before the slight protrusion from the sloped face of the hammer shattered bone and brain in a bloody eruption of gore.
Ears ringing with adrenaline it almost sounded like a crowd was cheering for him, despite the invisible shield separating the spectators from the arena.
"AN INFANT FELL HOUND FALLS TO THE MIGHTY LATE BLOOMER," the angered tones of the announcer boomed around him.
Feeling the weight of the fight crashing down upon him, Otis' injured cheek burnt and his muscles screamed out for rest. Despite the odds, he had won. He had won. He had won. It didn't feel like he had won... and yet the sensation of gradually falling back toward the city hadn't happened. There was no emotional descent. Usually, it would have happened immediately but this time there was nothing.
"...HOW WILL HE FAIR AGAINST A REAL GUARDSMAN?!"
A new opening revealed itself in the side of the arena. Inside stood a fresh, armoured, man who held a plain sword.
"HOW WILL HE FAIR AGAINST NA'TAN, GUARD TO FORTUNE'S FAVOUR?"
