When Xain raised his hands, mimicking the deliberate motions and speaking the words, "Soul Chamber," a cold dread tore through Even's core. The very idea that someone who had only learned of the concept last night could suddenly manifest one was unthinkable. The possibility alone made his stomach twist—it was a horrifying display of raw talent that threatened to make the years of training and sacrifice of others seem worthless. For a fleeting moment, Even felt all his effort, all his suffering, would be rendered meaningless in the face of that monstrous potential.
That terror, however, curdled into rage as his vision abruptly blurred—Xain's fist had slammed into his jaw before he could complete the Soul Veil technique. Only then did the truth strike him: Xain didn't know how to invoke a Soul Chamber at all. It had been nothing more than a bluff, a dirty feint to land a free hit. The half-formed spikes of stone and blood hanging in the air dropped with a dull thud as Even staggered, his focus broken.
Xain didn't waste the moment. He surged forward, fighting dirty, driving his knee mercilessly into Even's crotch. Agony shot through him, white-hot and nauseating, forcing bile up his throat. Before he could retch, Xain followed through with a brutal rising elbow that smashed into his jaw and sent him sprawling into the long dining table. Wood splintered, plates shattered, and cutlery clattered across the arena floor in a ringing scatter.
"What a dirty trick pulled off by Xain! Could he get any more shameless!?" Quincy's voice rang out from the sky, a mix of shock and disbelief at just how underhanded his tactics had become.
In the stands, "Oof, that had to hurt," Larkin winced, one hand hovering instinctively over his own crotch—a gesture echoed by most of the men in the audience.
Elsewhere in the stands, "Gods, he's so darn… shameless!" X muttered, his voice and gestures tinged with disgust.
"He's fighting someone who could end him with a single clean strike," Sarandel countered evenly, though her brow arched faintly at X's tone. "And there are no rules in this tournament that forbid the tactics he's using."
"Still, it's just so dirty," X said again, the disgust in his voice unchanged.
Somewhere else in the stands, "Ooo, that looked really bad," Lia winced.
"I can guarantee it hurt worse than it looked," Dirk muttered with a visible shudder.
In the VIP stands, Samwell seethed, his teeth grinding at the sight of their family's home being torn apart in mockery and his failure of a son being humiliated by at the hands of a boy he saw as nothing but a barbarian. Beside him, Matthew shook his fists in small, tense motions, silently willing Even on. *Come on, Even… don't lose...*
In the fighters' waiting room, Calvinel exhaled in relief and turned to Zeva. "Thank goddess you're my opponent instead of him."
Back in the arena, Even staggered up, rage twisting his features. "You fucking bastard!" he snarled, rolling away just in time as Xain's fist slammed into the shattered table instead with a jolt of pain shooting through his knuckles.
"Ow! Don't swear at me! I'm just doing what I can, man!" Xain shot back, shaking out his hand.
Even grit his teeth, fury brimming in his voice. "Fine! I was saving this new technique for tomorrow, but I'll use it on you instead!"
The ground rumbled as jagged formations of stone burst upward, but instead of striking Xain, the slabs of rock wrapped around Even's body. They shifted and segmented, cracks sealing with streams of blood until the mass had reshaped itself into an armor that fused to his flesh. His frame swelled, transformed into something monstrous, a walking golem of stone and blood. He flexed, his newly-formed armor groaning with the movement as he cracked his stony fists together.
"Time to finish this, brat!"
Xain's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Even's body, now encased in jagged plates of stone, every edge slick with a sheen of blood binding the armor together. His throat tightened, and he let out a shaky mutter under his breath, "Come on, man… that's just unfair."
From above, Quincy's voice rang out with theatrical flair, "What's this!? A brand-new spell, merging his earth and blood magic into one!? What a spectacle! Who could have possibly taught him such a thing!?" Her amusement dripped from every word, only fueling the roar of the crowd as they cheered in awe at Even's creation.
In the fighters' waiting room, Annabel leaned forward with a measured nod. "That is impressive."
Vilak added quietly beside her, his tone thoughtful, "I think the blood magic is what allows it to hold together."
In the stands, Amara smirked faintly, resting her chin on her hand. "Not bad. Let's see if the blue-haired brat can manage anything against that." She leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on the arena.
In the VIP stands, Samwell rubbed his chin, eyes narrowed with interest. "Hmm." The low hum rumbled in his throat as he studied the fusion of magic. Meanwhile, Matthew's eyes sparkled as he thought, *That looks so cool…*
Back in the arena, Even surged forward, the floor rattling under his armored steps as he swung a heavy fist straight at Xain. Xain ducked low, slipping behind him in a blur before lashing out with a sharp kick to the back of the stone plating. Pain shot through his leg as though he'd kicked a solid wall.
"Doesn't matter how hard you hit me, brat!" Even barked before twisting around, his massive arm cutting through the air in a backhand swipe.
Xain quickly stepped out of reach, air rushing past his face as he exhaled sharply. "Ugh… what should I do?" he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting across Even's armored frame.
The hulking fighter advanced with deliberate steps, wood creaking under the crushing weight of his armor as he raised his fist high. Xain's thoughts raced, *I can't hit it head-on. It's too tough… but maybe—*
Even's fist crashed down where Xain stood, the impact splintering the polished wood and leaving a jagged hole in the floor as Xain rolled aside.
*He's slow. His swings are heavy, and his own weight drags him down. If I'm careful… I can do this.*
Xain's hand slipped into his pocket, pulling free a simple hairband. In one smooth motion, he tied his hair up into a neat, artful bun, mimicking Eirisse's elegance. A sultry smile curved his lips, his voice shifting with playful allure as he leaned forward ever so slightly. "You're right~," he purred, every word dripping with mockery. "Let's finish this… boy~."
Quincy's voice practically crackled with delight. "He's doing it again! Xain is using the same trick from his first match! But will it be enough against this monster of stone!?"
Even's eyes narrowed, his expression sharp as he focused on Xain. His face was the one area he had left exposed—completely sealing it off would choke off his air supply. "That won't help you this time, brat," he growled, lowering his stance before charging forward. His fist drew back, the stone plates grinding against one another as he prepared a finishing blow.