"These two have the task of killing you both in reward for their own luxury. So do your best. And let the show continue!" The man shouts, reviving the crowd.
The two burly men are faster than Cordayl anticipated as they dive in for the kill. Cordayl defends himself, but seeing that the girl is about to get killed after she trips on nothing, he immediately tosses his attacker at the other to save the girl.
The girl opens her eyes to see Cordayl in front of her. "Don't move from this corner, " he tells her as he takes a few steps ahead and squares up in front of his opponents.
The two swoop in on Cordayl, but Cordayl is defending and attacking without moving an inch to deny his opponents an opening to attack the girl.
One of the attackers lands a blow on Cordayl who instantly unleashes his anger on the other, hitting him with a devastating punch to the sternum that folds his chest in half.
Now, just a one-on-one, Cordayl takes his time and slowly counters the enemy's attacks, ensuring his counterattacks leave more damage than the last one. With the man completely broken down, Cordayl kicks him across the arena.
The crowd cheers as the man pushes two more enslaved people off the ledge and into the battleground as three more contenders rush into the arena.
The more people Cordayl defeats, the more he has to defend, as the contenders want to kill them as much as they want to kill him. But Cordayl doesn't let a single enslaved person die, as he angrily crushes every opponent who tries.
The crowd is elated at the spectacle of Cordayl in combat. Their lust for mortal combat disgusts Cordayl as he spits in response to their cheers.
The man in white gloves comes walking out next, slow clapping the undefeated Cordayl. Cordayl stares at him with a blank animosity as the man nears him.
"My, you are quite the dog. But I'm sure those slaves were nothing but a mere warmup for you. Are you ready for a real fight?" The man asks.
Suddenly, the man with the top hat teleports by his side. "Mr. Vase, you are a special guest. You don't have to —" top hats words are cut short as he quickly teleports to avoid the slash of a golden dagger aimed right at his throat.
"I don't follow orders from you. If I want to fight, I do so. Interfere again, and I guarantee you're next teleportation will be in hell," The man promises, staring right at the man in the top hat.
"Now, then, Cordayl, are you ready?" the man asked, returning his attention to Cordayl.
"Let these people leave first. I'm sick of having to defend everyone." Cordayl states.
"Fine by me." The man says, removing his jacket but not his gloves. The enslaved people hesitate to leave from behind Cordayl.
"I promise they have their freedom and can leave safely. Right?" The man cuts his eyes to the man in the hat.
"Of course. A fight like this deserves nothing but the intention to kill. Ladies and gentlemen, although I've kept my word to give you the showing of your dreams. It seems tonight, I take you to the gates of Valhalla, as now we will see the Hand's very own Mr. Vase take on Cordayl himself!" The crowd explodes in happiness.
The two stare at each other for what feels like hours until everyone in attendance is silent. Then, in the blink of an eye, the two move in to attack.
Now standing behind one another, Cordayl's shirt is cut off, and the man's arm is broken up to the forearm. The man's forearm snaps back into its natural state as the two turn around to face each other again.
"That's an impressive healing factor you have," Cordayl states.
"You're one to talk." The man remarks.
The two dive into combat again, and to Cordayl's surprise, the guy is an astounding fighter, even forcing Cordayl to go on the defensive.
As the two fight, the crowd is mesmerized by the incredible fight displayed before their eyes.
The man is taking deep breaths as he revels in Cordayl's might. "You are an incredible fighter. But you have one flaw as I see it." The man states.
"And what do you think my flaw is?" Cordayl ask.
"That anger." The man says, diving back into the fight. The two exchange a quick bout of hands before Cordayl knocks him aside. The man slides to a stop, smiling.
"Do you feel it?" The man asks.
Cordayl stares at his arm and notices he has been cut.
"See, that anger, while making you stronger by the punch, is making you reckless. Against someone with an equal healing factor, it'll only be a matter of time before that ally of anger turns into your enemy." He smirks as his body parts snaps back into shape.
"That's only if your healing factor is as good as you believe." Cordayl states.
The man laughs. "Those punches you throw hurt, but I've taken much worse." Then he slides his hand over his daggers extending them into two swords. "But have you ever been cut the way I'm about to slice you?" The man menacingly asks.
Cordayl and the man dive into combat once again. Fighting one another like Rocky and Apollo. No defense, just who can endure the pain the longest.
Every cut Cordayl refuses to block bleeds as he continues to swing. His enemy, though, is having bone after bone broken and shattered until his body finally gives in, and Cordayl punches a hole through him.
The man stands there stunned but smiles. Cordayl looks down to see that after his relentless attack, the man has actually managed to pierce through his body with both swords.
Only one sword managed to protrude through both sides. The other, already being broken, has just stabbed him in his abdomen.
Cordayl and the man push off each other and stand across from the other. The man drops to a knee as he tries to focus on making his body heal as the blood pours out from his wound.
Cordayl slowly pulls the blades out of his body and takes a deep breath as he tries to slow his bleeding as well. Cordayl wins the race to heal, and walks over to the man while his body is slowly cracking and stitching itself up.
"Well, that was fun." The man says, blood spilling from his mouth as he tries to sit up but only managing to fall onto his hands and knees. "Hurry up and make it quick. I got a dance with the devil for which I've been practicing."
Cordayl looks down on the man. "Fuck this. I'm done. Didn't want to do this in the first place." He says, turning away.
The man picks his head up, stunned. "If you don't finish me off now, they will make me come after you later."
"Then be smart and decline," Cordayl states.
As he walks away, Cordayl hears the man laughing, promising how the next time they meet, the outcome will be different and whoopty whoop. Cordayl ignores him and the boos as he walks out of the arena.
As the crowd starts to fade out after the disappearance of Cordayl, the man with the tall hat teleports to the VIP area.
"So? Were you not entertained?!" He astonishes.
The members praise him but suddenly fall silent as Cordayl's hand lands on the man in the tall hat's shoulder. The man shivers in fear as he sees Cordayl's cold eyes.
"So if you teleport with someone touching you, they come with you. Interesting." Cordayl spins the man around before he has a chance to blink. Seeing the fear in his eyes, Cordayl smirks, "Let me repay you for that golden ticket."
Then Cordayl socks him right in the chin, stuffing his head into the hat and straight into the ceiling. Leaving him hanging like a broken cobweb.
Cordayl then turns his attention to everyone in the room.
"So this is the big wigs of the gloved organization. Well, this was the last man with white gloves I let live. Consider it a courtesy from the enemy. This is war now. Think carefully who you choose to send to their death next." Cordayl says, leaving out of the tent wall behind all of them.
The members of the Hand stand there contemplating the words they just heard.
"Did you feel that?" One of them ask.
"Fear?" Someone says.
"Yes. He took a business card from each of us." Another answers.
"Smart lad. Guess it's time to take him seriously." One says.