The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Randidly rested his chin on his fist, his emerald eyes glittering.

In a bombastic first match, Alana Donal showed why she remained the favorite to win the tournament. Thorn was a gifted Soulseed and had evolved to become nearly invulnerable. But in the end, it simply didn’t have the same capacity for images that humans possessed. His enormous body resisted her fire, regrew its limbs, and ravaged the stage, but it could not touch her.

The pure flames around Alana’s body sang with inviolability.

And she didn’t even use her Revelations.

Plus, Randidly mused as he watched Alana walk away from the stage with her head held high. I don’t think I’ve given Alana enough credit. Compared to every participant aside from the Vulpis Squad, she is the most well adapted to Nether environments. The pressure of the arena didn’t even affect her. Is it a quality of her image, or just because she has been following me for so long…?

Not very gently, Tatiana prodded him in the side. She raised an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue with the announcements. They had a schedule to keep.

Randidly rolled his shoulders and announced the second match of the day. “Tykes v. Azriel.”

If anything, the cheers for this match were even louder than the previous one. Tykes’ match against Glendel had been the most re-watched match of the tournament thus far. A single man had managed to overcome a legion of ghastly soldiers and grasp a surprise victory. Because of that, the victor had walked away from that confrontation with a sizable support group, who wished to see him dominate the tournament with that overwhelming image of power.

Meanwhile, Azriel’s bone-white hair and piercing crimson eyes, as well as the elegant sway to her walk, had earned her quite a few fans of her own. Yet what puzzled Randidly was that she didn’t even look at Tykes as the two took their positions. She continued to lift her stare and look directly at him.

Just like the prior match, both released their image as soon as they received the signal. Tykes rumbled forward, lifting his enormous metal ball off the ground with a single hand. Opposite him in more than just distance, Azriel seemed to skip and skate lightly forward. Her movements were as sharp and graceful as a diving bird. The spear in her hand resembled a double-sided needle, thin and without any distinguishing feature.

Crimson light gathered around Azriel and trailed behind her like a crimson scarf. Tykes rolled forward and gathered momentum.

Tykes altered their predestined clash first, suddenly leaping forward and bringing his metal ball smashing down. Even in terms of speed, he didn’t lose out. When the implement hit the arena, the tiles cracked and ruptured; in terms in raw physical power, Randidly suspected Tykes would be No. 1 in the tournament.

But Azriel had lightly sidestepped and now jabbed her needle-spear toward Tykes neck. In the moment of attack, crimson moonlight spun around and empowered the attack. Tykes leaned back, barely avoiding the strike.

He gripped his metal ball and lifted it again, but Azriel precisely spun her needle in her palm. The tip ripped through the tendons of Tykes left hand, briefly loosening his grip on the ball. Azriel rushed forward in that opening and Tykes stomped a foot in response.

The entire stage shook, more cracks snaking outward from Tykes position. The Nether bubble remained in place, but the physical preparations began to wear away.

Yet even as he brought his foot down, Azriel had hopped. Randidly pursed his lips. She’s been watching his matches and memorizing his habits. When it comes to developing countermeasures to mundane movements, I don’t know anyone as overwhelming as Azriel…

Just thinking about some of the spars they had during the course of his first visit to Tellus made Randidly shudder. Those fights were some of the worst losses he ever suffered. Azriel was the type that saw an attack and wouldn’t be touched by it again. Tykes seemed to come to the same conclusion after his two methods were so easily dealt with. As Azriel moved toward him, he instead leaned forward and brought his arms around to wrap her in a bear hug.

Crimson energy boosting her speed, Azriel whirled around and slammed her heel against Tykes’ diaphragm. It didn’t slow him at all as he leaned forward and her eyes narrowed. She kicked herself back, more and more crimson flows of energy spiraling around her limbs. After settling her stance, she bounced back toward him.

In the meantime, that humming figurative presence of raw strength exploded from Tykes’ body. He possessed some inner fire that released the force of his person as an aura. The air thickened; his presence became pressure that drove to pin Azriel in one spot. He leaned his image forward against her.

Yet Azriel was Azriel. Her strikes, and her person, pierced through all impediments. And grew more efficient with every successful piercing. She arrived in front of Tykes and thrust forward. He swayed again, but she was too fast. The spear lanced through his side-

Tykes pressed his lips together in a grimace and flexed all the muscles of his body. That aura of power hummed along with him. Azriel’s spear shattered to pieces and fell tinkling to the ground.

There was a moment of surprise from Azriel as she looked down at her shattered weapon; Tykes might be wounded, but he certainly hadn’t been so wounded that he couldn’t fight back. Azriel danced backward but Tykes beckoned. His iron ball whooshed sideways, looking to splatter Azriel across the stage.

A crimson moon manifested above the arena. It opened like an eye of a demon, shining its radiance across the whole of the arena. Its harshest light fixated on Tykes. Azriel’s skin and hair were pearlescent underneath that light, the crimson rays somehow igniting an inner luminance. Her body flickered and she was a meter to the left, safely out of the way of the charging weapon.

Tykes stomped again and Azriel hopped, condensing a weapon of forged moonlight into her spear. But he made use of that time when she was airborne to rush toward her. Once more he aimed to wrap her in a bearhug.

Azriel discarded the half-formed spear of moonlight and simply slapped her palm against Tykes. Her strikes were brutally quick. She hit his forearm, his shoulder, his chest, the side that wasn’t leaking blood. A split second later, those locations that she touched ruptured. Huge sinkholes had appeared in Tykes body at those spots, as thick as a thrust from her spear.

Tykes growled and tightened his arms around her. She managed a few more slaps in the meantime, opening up holes across his body. At this point, a huge amount of blood sloshed across the arena, adding a grotesque edge to their duel. Blood stained and clumped up strands of her gleaming white hair. When Tykes finally bound Azriel’s body and began to truly squeeze, she didn’t give up. Azriel just scowled down at him.

Her eyes flashed with crimson light. She began to look at him, releasing a deadly luminance from her irises. She blasted Tykes with just her gaze, carving off huge chunks of his face, shoulders, and chest. Rather than a warrior, Tykes began to look like a mutilated corpse.

Randidly leaned even farther forward, his face turning serious. Next to him, Tatiana began to go pale.

Because while Azriel ripped apart his flesh, Tykes implacably squeezed. Randidly heard Azriel’s ribs pop and then one of her internal organs rupture underneath the pressure. His aura of power continued to rise. The powerful man folded her chest cavity across itself, even while Azriel finally ripped her way through his thick layer of muscle and began to crack open the bones of his chest cavity. More blood spattered off their bodies and onto the arena.

“Randidly…” Tatiana muttered. He shook his head; neither would die from just this.

But what seized Randidly’s attention was the strained feeling in the air. Azriel, despite her powerful image, radiated a deep fear that she would lose. And with that emotion in the air, he could feel her desperation building as Tykes arms tightened. Unfortunately for Tykes, behind that fear lay a horrifying resolve.

Her gaze became increasingly harsh, bulldozing its way through his upper body and arms, but his grip didn’t loosen-

“I concede,” Tykes announced, looking more like a corpse than anything else. He eased his grip and set Azriel down on the ground. The audience, which had been holding its breath, heaved a collective sigh of relief.

Tykes left a trail of blood as he walked away from the arena, leaving the ‘victor’ collapsed in the middle of the stage.

*****

The quality of fighters that still were a part of the tournament was stunning. Each match was a lesson, a demonstration of prowess.

Illdan watched the match of the man who defeated his friend Krum closely. This Paolo fought against an individual called the Monster Prince, clashing in a bombastic fight that lasted almost a half hour. However, Paolo’s determination never wavered. At least in mental strength, the man appeared to have no flaws. His fists might not have the raw power that the defeated Tykes demonstrated, but in terms of brutality of movement, he was matchless.

It is a capability worth emulating, Illdan admitted to himself. Then he shook his head and waited for the next match.

The more matches he watched, the more nervous he felt. Not for the current round, but for the future. It would be extremely difficult for him to win the entire tournament. The mysterious middle-aged woman from Tellus fought against a Nether Beast and defeated it. None of her moves seemed flashy, but her opponent had been unable to cope with her light image.

Yet after the match, several of the key participants gave that woman long looks. Despite masking her capability, it seemed most people realized her potential.

One more Tellus warrior was knocked out by Hank Howard, the cowboy. That chimeric woman who obsessed Zeta managed to defeat a Toad Lord, who engulfed the entire arena in a damp image but struggled to rival her raw power. And perhaps most importantly, in the bracket directly above Illdan, that confounding blonde woman Beatrice managed to overwhelm the stellar performance of the man in a mechanical suit.

If Illdan won, they would fight again. His hands tightened into fists. It was the rematch he had been waiting for. But for now…

Illdan walked up onto the arena. Waiting for him was Daemont Scythe, his expression serious. “Even if you are the Spearman Reborn, you will not grow without trials. I will not hold back in our match.”

Illdan nodded. Whatever else he thought about Daemont, he was a determined and no-nonsense warrior. He would not hold back to protect Illdan’s pride. Which was exactly what he wanted.

After seeing the amazing images of the other participants, Illdan wanted to test his limits.

“Let the final match of the round of thirty-two… begin!” The Ghosthound announced.

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