Alaric leaned over the velvet railing of the VIP stand, munching on something suspiciously crunchy. "You know, Thorne's kind of terrifying when he's not being a total clown."
Cael adjusted his glasses, squinting down at the arena below. "Kind of? The man just suplexed a man twice his size into a crater."
Lys, sprawled sideways on a plush seat with a drink in hand, lazily pointed with her straw. "That makes what? One hundred and twelve people now? He's not even sweating."
Renna, with her legs kicked up on the railing like she owned the place, grinned. "Typical. Isekai protagonist behavior. OP for no reason."
"That's the thing though," Cael muttered, brows furrowed. "We're the same. I mean, three months ago I could barely do ten push-ups. Now I'm launching sigils like guided missiles."
Alaric chuckled dryly. "I had firefighter training, yeah, but I couldn't slice through stone back then. And don't even get me started on the white fire. Still don't know how that works."
Lys tapped her bow against her leg. "It's weird, right? Like, we just… grew stronger. Way faster than anyone native to this world. The adventurers here talk about training for decades to do stuff we picked up in, like, a dungeon crawl and a really good nap."
Renna crossed her arms, her usual smirk faltering just a bit. "It's that weird isekai scaling thing. Always happens. Some rando from another world falls into fantasy land, and boom—next thing you know, they're stronger than a whole kingdom."
"But why?" Cael asked, mostly to himself. "Why do we get that boost?"
Thorne leaned back against the wall of the contestant room, one leg kicked up on a bench, his divine lightning spear resting across his shoulders like he was posing for a photo shoot that didn't exist.
"Man, I am so cool," he said aloud to no one in particular. "Did you see how that last guy flipped three times before hitting the wall? That's like... anime-level physics."
Ironbelly the Unmoving glanced up from polishing one of his heavy stone axes and gave a low grunt. "Yer a loud one. But fun. Like a keg rolling downhill." He took a thoughtful sip from a suspiciously pocketed tankard. "Aye. Definitely fun."
Beside him, The Gentleman Hexer chuckled, swirling a cup of tea that had no logical place being in this room. "Quite the flair for chaos, my electrified friend. I admire it. You're like a hurricane in a tuxedo—with less manners, but more thunder."
Kaelivra, who was carefully sharpening her silver scimitars with deliberate, elegant strokes, flicked her eyes toward Thorne and rolled them hard. "Delusional," she muttered under her breath.
Anya, sitting cross-legged with her translucent gorilla Jello braiding her wild hair (badly), snorted. "Oh yeah. Big delulu vibes. But, like… entertaining delulu. He's like a golden retriever that thinks it's a lion."
Juno the Mirror Mage had been lounging against a wall made of floating hexagonal mirrors, smirking. "Honestly? I dig it. Guy's got zero shame and maximum spark. It's rare. Refreshing. Weirdly charming. Like a living disaster you just have to watch."
Across the room, Ravael "The Silent Spark" gave Thorne a silent thumbs-up and scribbled on his chalkboard.
"COOL GUY. TOO LOUD. BUT COOL."
Then erased it with the side of his hand and went back to stretching.
Tundra, still encased in frost and silence in the far corner of the room, didn't say a word. He just exhaled through the slits in his ice-covered helmet, fogging the air around him. If he had any thoughts on Thorne's dramatic ego, they were buried beneath several layers of glacial indifference.
Thorne clapped his hands together, lightning crackling in his palms. "Alright, alright, alright. I know I'm a bit much—but hey, someone's gotta bring the energy! The people love a showman!"
Kaelivra groaned. Anya cackled. Juno nodded sagely. Ironbelly took another sip of ale. Ravael offered a single, supportive fist pump. And The Gentleman Hexer raised his cane in a toast.
It was going to be one hell of a tournament.
A loud horn blasted through the walls of the contestant room, vibrating the very floor beneath them. The crystal announcer orbs floated in, glowing with anticipation. A voice boomed across the stadium.
"REST PERIOD IS OVER! THE TOURNAMENT BEGINS NOW! FIRST MATCH: THORNE, THE THUNDER LANCER, VS. IRONBELLY THE UNMOVING! FIGHTERS, TO THE ARENA!"
Thorne immediately jumped to his feet, divine spear in hand, grinning like he'd just been handed a birthday cake with dynamite candles.
"Heck yeah, first match! I was born for this spotlight!"
Ironbelly stood up slowly, cracking his neck with a gravelly crunch. "Hmmph. Let's see if yer lightning tickles harder than a fly this time."
"Bro, I'm the thunderstorm. Get ready to be enlightened, old man."
The two marched out of the room in opposite directions, the arena gates yawning open with a grinding rumble that sent a wave of cheers rolling from the crowd. Above, in the VIP stands, Cael, Renna, Alaric, and Lys leaned forward, eyes wide.
Renna gasped. "First match and it's already boss fight level."
Lys nodded. "That dwarf guy looks like he headbutts mountains for breakfast."
Cael squinted. "Why do I feel like this is going to be either incredibly epic or violently hilarious?"
Alaric just said, "...My money's on both."
The crowd erupted as Thorne and Ironbelly took center stage. Magic screens flickered to life, showing close-ups of their faces like a fantasy UFC match.
"LET THE FIRST MATCH OF THE TOURNAMENT COMMENCE!!"
Thorne spun his lightning lance overhead dramatically, electricity crackling across the blade. "Let's gooo!"
Ironbelly stomped one boot into the ground—BOOM. Dust shot up around him as stone rippled beneath his feet. His skin hardened visibly, taking on a granite sheen.
"Stone Form activated."
The dwarf then raised both stone axes and pointed one at Thorne. "Come at me, flashbulb."
Thorne grinned, kicked off the ground with a CRACK, and shot forward like a lightning missile.
What followed was less a duel and more a collision of elements.
Thorne darted in from all angles, spear jabbing, lightning arcing through the sky, creating booming shockwaves. Ironbelly didn't budge an inch—each blow was met with a thunderous CLANG as stone met divine steel.
At one point, Thorne tried to launch an overhead spinning slam, only for Ironbelly to headbutt him mid-air, sending him spiraling across the arena like a sparkly lawn dart.
The crowd went nuts.
"THAT HEADBUTT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!" someone screamed.
Thorne coughed, flipped back upright midair, and shouted, "I just saw my ancestors! They're proud!"
From the stands, Renna was on her feet, yelling, "GET HIS BEARD, THORNE!"
Lys added, "SHOCK HIS KNEECAPS!"
Cael, much more logically, "You cannot shock a rock, Thorne! That's not how conductivity works!"
Ironbelly spun his axes in a whirl of granite death, but Thorne was too fast—he dashed through the gaps, scraping Ironbelly's armor bit by bit. Little arcs of lightning built up with each strike.
"CHIP DAMAGE, BABY!" Thorne howled.
Ironbelly roared, slamming the ground and raising a wall of stone to slow him down. "Enough with yer fancy flips!"
Thorne vaulted off the wall, spiraled once, then drove the lightning spear straight into Ironbelly's shoulder joint. The dwarf stumbled—just a bit—but the crowd gasped like they'd seen a titan fall.
The two men squared off again, panting.
Ironbelly grunted. "You're better than I thought."
Thorne wiped sweat from his brow. "Thanks. You too, Dwarven Dadbod."
The match hadn't hit time just yet. That call was still minutes away—because now?
Thorne wiped blood from his cheek and exhaled, eyes sparking with static. Across the field, Ironbelly the Unmoving stood grounded like an ancient fortress, axes low, eyes narrow.
There was no more banter. No more posturing.
Only the storm and the stone.
Thorne's divine spear pulsed, surging with crackling blue energy as he shifted his stance. His boots barely touched the ground before he vanished in a pop of lightning.
—CRACK!!
He reappeared directly behind Ironbelly, delivering a high-speed thrust. The dwarf spun his axe just in time to deflect it, but the sheer force of the blow sent stone shrapnel flying from the ground beneath him.
Ironbelly growled, "Yer getting faster…"
Thorne was already gone—BOOM! Another thunderclap. He zipped left, then right, raining jabs and slashes at impossible speeds. His lightning spear hummed like a living thing, carving arcs of electricity through the air.
Spear tip to stone.Spear shaft to gut.Butt end to chin.
Ironbelly was defending, but barely now. He blocked three strikes, then took a glancing blow to his ribs that cracked his armor. Then another to his knee that buckled him slightly.
For every block, Thorne struck from a new angle. Each movement was a blur. The sound of the fight was no longer metal—it was weather.
The dwarf let out a guttural roar, slamming both axes into the ground. A shockwave rippled outward—a dome of stone spikes exploded around him in a desperate area-clearing move.
Thorne was knocked back mid-charge, skidding across the dirt with sparks flaring around his boots.
Ironbelly straightened, stone falling from his beard. His arms trembled slightly—he was slowing down. "This body's got some years on it," he muttered. "But I ain't breakin' yet."
He rushed forward, feet pounding, twin axes whirling like windmills. A brutal combo began.
A low sweep to trip Thorne.
A spinning overhead slam meant to cleave his shoulder.
A sudden feint into a chest-thrust.
But Thorne's reaction time was inhuman. He leaned back, narrowly avoiding the first sweep, then vaulted over the second blow. As Ironbelly's thrust came in, Thorne twisted midair and kicked off the flat of the axe—launching himself skyward.
"YOU CALL THAT AN UPPERCUT?!" he yelled mid-flip.
As Thorne fell, lightning coiled around him. He spun the spear overhead like a propeller, and then—
"HEAVEN'S THUNDERDIVE!"
He descended like a comet.
The spear slammed into Ironbelly's crossed axes with a deafening explosion. Dust and wind burst outward. Half the arena trembled from the shock.
The crowd was on their feet, screaming. Vendors spilled popcorn. A guy in the back fainted dramatically.
As the dust cleared, Thorne stood tall, panting, spear crackling with residual lightning. Ironbelly was on one knee, steam rising from his shoulders, cracks spider-webbing across his stone-coated arms.
He looked up, smiling through blood and bruises. "You damn lightning bug…"
The arena lights shifted to a golden hue, casting a triumphant glow over the two bruised fighters. The dust hadn't even fully settled when the announcer's voice boomed from the arcane amplifiers hovering above:
"AND THE WINNER OF THIS ELECTRIFYING CLASH—THORNE, THE STORM-HEWN LANCER!!"
The crowd exploded. Cheers, gasps, and roars thundered through the colosseum, nearly as loud as Thorne's impact moments ago.
Up in the VIP stands, Alaric jumped to his feet, hands cupped around his mouth.
"THAT'S MY BOY!" he shouted, voice cracking with excitement. "GET REKT, GRAVITY!"
Renna, lounging on an absurdly plush pillow throne she absolutely did not pay for, raised her glass with a grin. "To Thorne: May his ego grow large enough to block out the sun," she said, before chugging.
Cael, seated with both hands anxiously clutching the rail, muttered, "He could've died. That dwarf nearly turned him into paste!"
Thorne helped Ironbelly to his feet, still breathing hard. "You're not bad for a walking mountain," he said, grinning.
Ironbelly laughed, wincing as he stood. "You're not bad for a loud thunder,"
The two clasped forearms in mutual respect, axes and spear dimming down.
As they left the stage, a healer approached to start repairs on Ironbelly's cracked shoulder. Thorne just waved off the medics. "I'm fine," he said, turning to wink at the crowd like a true showman.
"Alright, who's next?!"
Cut to the other contestants in the waiting room—most of them just staring at the magically projected fight recap replaying overhead.
The Gentleman Hexer stirred his tea with a card and said, "Oh my. This bracket just got delightfully suicidal."