The Arena: A LitRPG, page 13
Petra's strategy became clear as she focused on quick and precise movements to avoid her rampaging opponent. Titus worried that if just one of his powerful strikes landed, then she'd be in serious trouble. And Henderson didn't look like he was pulling any of his punches either.
Petra finally drew first blood. As Henderson charged her again and she spun out of the way, she whipped out her short, curved blade, and it bit into Henderson's arm. Blood leaked from the wound and Titus couldn't help but smile as he analysed Henderson to see his HP had dropped by five points.
Henderson didn't show any signs that the attack had caused him any hardship and changed his attack pattern from wild charges to close, powerful strikes without pause. He struck over and over, jabbing and hooking, but Petra darted in and out, landing quick jabs and slashes on Henderson's exposed sides and limbs as he continued to miss her.
The crowd could see the frustration growing on Henderson's face as he struggled to lay a hand on his nimble opponent and as more and more tiny cuts began to bleed all over his arms and hands.
But then everything changed.
Henderson had had enough and he roared. The large boy then raised a boot from the ground to land a powerful kick to Petra's stomach. She hadn't been expecting it, and Titus saw her HP drop by twenty points. But it was worse than that; Petra was winded, and the kick had caused her to drop to her knees and hold her stomach.
She did her best to place her weapon between her and Henderson, but he smiled and approached slowly, grabbing hold of her wrist and wrenching the blade from her.
The match was clearly over. A single attack had been landed by Henderson, and it'd been enough to down Titus' friend.
But Henderson didn't turn away to claim his victory.
He walked past Petra and turned at the last minute to grab hold of her hair and snake the sword around her neck. He stopped. One more move and it would be the last breath Petra would ever take.
And nobody was doing anything to stop this.
Titus looked at Miss Kane pleadingly, who watched with wide eyes, he looked at Henderson's father who was smiling and slowly nodding. He looked for Petra's parents but couldn't see them through the crowd of people.
Surely this was the end of the fight?
"OK," Miss Kane announced as she stepped forward. "I think we've seen enough, and haven't they fought well!"
"No!" Mr Valeri shouted. "We cannot interfere with a fight that has not reached its conclusion. It is against everything that the Arena stands for, is it not?"
Miss Kane opened her mouth to speak but said nothing.
"Henderson, boy. My son. Finish this battle the way it was intended to be."
Henderson looked up at his father, and then to Miss Kane. And in that moment, Titus saw something that he hadn't seen in the large boy's eyes before: sadness. Sadness and uncertainty.
He stared at Miss Kane for a second longer but did nothing.
"Do it now, boy, or forever be cast aside!" Mr Valeri shouted, his face reddening.
Henderson kept staring at Miss Kane.
"Now! Do it now! End this fight!" Mr Valeri continued, his voice getting louder and louder with each word.
Miss Kane said nothing.
"I'm going to come down there and kill you both!" Mr Valeri practically screamed and took a step onto the sand.
Henderson turned his attention back to Petra, the sword, and his fight, and sliced Petra's throat with her own blade.
There were a few gasps from the crowd as Henderson carried out the act, and his father stopped in his tracks with a grin from ear to ear.
"No!" Titus screamed.
But there was nothing he could do to stop this.
But then, there was, wasn't there?
Titus focused all of his attention on the blade as it bit into his friend's neck and called upon the one single ability he had: Sacrifice.
Titus immediately felt his skill flare into being, and his health pool dropped by fifteen points. That told him that if Petra had taken the blow herself, it would've been enough to end her life.
But the drop in HP wasn't the only thing that the skill caused because all of a sudden, a burning, stinging sensation scored itself into existence around Titus' neck. He was now sharing in Petra's pain. He yelped and brought his hands up to his neck to feel the warm, wet blood there, and he turned away from the battle and ran from the training sands before anyone could see what'd happened.
He couldn't see Petra anymore, but coming to a halt just outside the door he fell to his knees, keeping hold of his neck to keep the blood from spilling out.
Back inside and still in the fight, Petra had fallen to her front and lay at Henderson's feet. His eyes were red and wet, but he stood tall nonetheless. He'd dropped the sword the moment his grim task had been completed.
Petra had not fallen to the ground because she'd been killed though. The shock and pain had done that. But she still had fifteen health points left, a fact that Henderson would've seen if he'd been paying her any attention at all.
Petra opened her eyes in surprise at the fact she was still alive, and then saw Henderson still standing over her, facing away.
In a split-second decision, Petra swept Henderson's feet from beneath him, causing the large boy to clatter to the ground.
The crowd gasped again, though only half of them had seen what had happened as they, like Henderson, had assumed the fight was over.
"Yes, Petra!" Jordan's voice rang out, and as though buoyed by the exclamation, Petra immediately clambered on top of Henderson, snaking her legs around his and flattening him on his back. Then she drove her forearm forcefully but steadily into Henderson's throat.
His eyes widened as he gasped for air, but Petra didn't let up, not for a second.
Not until Henderson's eyes finally rolled up into the back of his head, and his body went limp, signifying the fight was truly over.
Petra kept her hold for just a second longer, not entirely convinced she should let the boy live, but when his eyes had closed it reminded her of her humanity, and she rolled off the boy to lay on the ground next to him. Her throat hurt and she was covered in blood, but touching the cut there, she felt that it wasn't as deep as she'd feared.
And she'd won.
She'd won.
Chapter 19 – Class Struggles
"And the winner is Petra!" Miss Kane announced with a huge smile on her face. Then she looked pointedly at Henderson's father. "And all done without one of the Contestants dying. So let me be clear: for the rest of the bouts, armbands will be worn. There won't be any death here today. Now… are you both OK?" She'd turned her attention to both Petra and Henderson, who were both slowly returning to their feet. Henderson nodded, looking a little sheepish.
Petra was staring down at herself with a confused look on her face.
"I… I got a Class…" she said under her breath.
Miss Kane was the only person to hear her.
"What was that?" Miss Kane asked.
"I got a Class!" Petra exclaimed in delight.
"Amazing!" Miss Kane replied, then turned to the crowd. "Our very first White-Ranked Contestant to gain her Class this season! Tell us Petra, what is your Class?"
Petra smiled as though it was obvious, and just what she'd been hoping for. "Rogue!"
The crowd cheered and whistled, and Petra was the only person close enough to hear Henderson mutter something under his breath.
"I got my Class too."
"Isn't that something, ladies and gentlemen?" Miss Kane returned to her full announcer mode. "This is something that will happen to all of the Contestants you see here today. It may not happen directly after their first fight as we can see with Petra here, but rest assured, it will happen. Classes are an integral part of the Arena and what we do here, and to be present when a Contestant breaks through that boundary is something truly special. So let's move on to the next round, shall we? Let's have Alexandria and Vincent next."
Jordan waited for Petra to return to the edge of the sands after she'd been given a health potion by Miss Kane, which returned her bleeding neck to its previous un-cut state.
"You did so great," Jordan said to her, taking hold of her arms.
Petra was smiling, but her eyes were scanning the crowd.
"He went outside," Jordan said knowingly. "I don't think he could watch."
"Right," Petra replied. "Well, we better go see him."
Then Petra and Jordan quietly removed themselves from the training sands, and just outside the door they found Titus, who was still doubled over and holding his neck. It had stopped bleeding, but blood stained his shirt, hands, and the floor beneath him.
"God! Titus!" Jordan exclaimed. "What's happened‽ Petra, go get help!"
"It's alright," Titus said, holding a hand out. "It's stopped now, just… give me a minute." He took a deep breath, stood up, and asked: "Did you win?"
Petra grinned and nodded, but Jordan looked horrified at the deep cut that rounded Titus' neck. It was identical to the one that Petra'd had.
"What's wrong with you two?" Jordan asked, his eyes bulging. "Were you attacked? It couldn't've been Henderson; he was in the fight the whole time, but maybe he paid…"
"It wasn't Henderson," Titus said with a sigh. "Well, I guess it was technically him." Jordan couldn't've looked more confused if he tried and looked to Petra for a better explanation.
"We're going to have to tell him," she said. "I think we all need to be honest with each other, right?"
Titus nodded, then spent the next couple of minutes coming clean to Jordan about the boar, the fight they'd had, the experience, his Capacitor Class and finally, the skill: Sacrifice.
With each moment that passed, Jordan looked more and more surprised, and in some cases a little confused.
"I knew something was up…" Jordan said once Titus had finished. "I knew something changed when we were fighting that Spectral Harbinger… that was you, wasn't it? You saved us both… and you never even took any credit."
"I didn't think I could…" Titus replied. "We still don't even know what this Class is, let alone what it means. Have you ever heard of it?" He added hopefully.
"No…" Jordan replied. "But then beyond the main Classes, Contestants don't usually go around telling everyone what they're capable of."
"Then we're still dealing with this alone," Petra said. "But you're going to have to fight in a minute, and you can't go out there looking like that. I'll go and see if I can get another health potion from Miss Kane; I'm sure she won't mind, seeing as we seem to need them on an almost daily basis at this point." Petra disappeared through the door and returned a moment later with a glass bottle filled with the red health potion. Handing it to Titus, both Petra and Jordan watched as he chugged the liquid, then his health pool returned almost all the way back to full, less a handful of points. The cut on his neck also all but disappeared, though if someone were to really look for it, the thin line was still visible.
"What about all the blood?" Jordan asked. "He looks like he's straight up murdered someone - especially seeing as he doesn't have a scratch on him."
Petra gestured to her own blood-soaked shirt, and then her hands and face. Then she wiped her bloodstained hands on both the boys. "You both must've just got some of my run-off when you congratulated me on my victory," she said. "Plus, everyone's pretty dirty out there already.
"Right," Titus said, exhaling loudly. "Let's get back in there and see about having a fight in front of all of these nice people."
"I hope she doesn't pair you two up together," Petra said. "If Titus keeps getting beaten to a pulp, then I think they're going to cut off our health potion supply."
Titus frowned. "You don't think I can take him?" he asked, gesturing towards Jordan.
Jordan grinned. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you."
Clapping echoed out of the training arena, and it caused the three to turn to look through the door, seeing that the next fight had finished. Thankfully, this time there didn't seem to be any bloodshed.
"Ah, Titus," Miss Kane announced as soon as she noticed the movement at the door. "Why don't you come and pair up with Reagan? I think that would be a good showing."
Reagan was a young girl with long red hair braided down her back. She was relatively small compared to many of the other White-Ranked Contestants, and if Titus had to guess, she was probably planning on becoming a Rogue Class like Petra had become. It suited him well because from the size of him, he thought people would assume Titus planned to be a Rogue himself, or perhaps a Spellcaster. Either way he was silently glad that he didn't have to fight Jordan, who not only was much bigger than him, but also knew a great deal about how to fight properly. They'd all trained well for the past week, but a single week's training was never going to make up for a lifetime of preparation - even if the teaching methods had been somehow magically enhanced by the Instructors' skills.
Titus moved out into the centre of the sands as everyone watched in silence. Nobody seemed fazed by his bloodied attire though, which was a relief in itself.
He peered across at his opponent, who was standing empty-handed.
"Would either of you like to select training weapons for this display?" Miss Kane asked.
"No," Reagan said quickly before Titus could answer. He was going to select a wooden sword and shield if he had the choice because he liked the thought of having something between him and his opponent, but he didn't object. If he had to fight bare-handed, then so be it.
"For the people!" Both Titus and Reagan announced. The warm, tingly feeling washed over Titus a second before he was thrown into his very first contest.
Reagan came at Titus with a flurry of regimented blows. They didn't look powerful, but they were coming with such speed that he knew he'd do best to keep out of their path. He adopted the standard fighting pose, and when one punch came a little too close for his liking he slapped it away with his palm.
The impact hurt his palm and sent a minor shock up his arm, but it did no damage to his health pool nonetheless. The slap that rang out was deafening, and it caused Reagan to pause for a second. She clearly hadn't expected Titus to meet her fist with his palm.
With her punch caught early, her balance was challenged, and she took a single step backward. To Titus, this was in itself the greatest victory he could've hoped for.
Reagan then balled her fists and attempted the very same punch, again with the same result.
"Close the distance!" Petra's voice rang out. It was all that Titus could hear, and where Reagan took a step back, Titus took a step forward to press his advantage.
Reagan's face reddened with embarrassment, and again she began throwing a flurry of straights and hooks at Titus. He did his best to keep out of the way of them, but he still kept moving forwards, keeping control of the space between them.
A few punches landed and he saw his health pool drop by one to three points with each, depending on where and how hard they landed.
"Fight back! Throw a punch!" Petra shouted.
In the other fights there had been no such coaching, but nobody seemed to object, so it must've been within the rules.
But Titus had no reason to fight back, not yet at least. Sure, if it carried on indefinitely, then he would lose all of his health points, but from what he could see of his opponent, the fight was going to be over long before that was going to happen.
Reagan's eyes were almost entirely closed with effort and frustration as she tried her hardest to use her speed to her advantage. But she wasn't that much faster than Titus, and he parried and dodged over and over until he found his opening.
And then he saw it.
Reagan's body leant back in one final vow to knock Titus down, and before she knew it and as her fist flew through the air, Titus took a large step to his left, and the girl stumbled forward. He was just quick enough to stick out a foot for her to trip over and stumble to the ground.
Titus smiled to himself and turned, holding out a hand for Reagan to take and bring herself back up to her feet, but she didn't take it. Instead, she brushed herself off and re-readied her fighting stance. Titus could respect that.
As Reagan resumed her side of the fight, Titus couldn't help but think about what Petra had said earlier: "Fight back! Throw a punch!" His reluctance to strike back had been partly due to an aversion to harming others, but in this controlled training environment, perhaps it was necessary to demonstrate his own abilities.
But he'd never, not once purposefully hurt someone before in his entire life.
Reagan launched another series of quick punches, but this time Titus didn't just parry and dodge. He began to deflect her strikes with quick movements, using his palm and forearm to redirect her blows. It was still a defensive strategy, one meant to tire her out rather than harm her but he knew eventually he'd have to fight back when he saw an opening.
Reagan's frustration grew again as her punches continued to miss their mark.
Titus kept his focus on maintaining his defences, moving to evade or block her strikes and still taking minimal reductions to his health pool.
Slowly but surely, he noticed her movements becoming less fluid, her attacks losing their speed.
Then with one swift motion, Titus closed the distance between them, grabbing Reagan's arm mid-punch. He didn't exert any force; instead, he used her momentum against her, guiding her past him as she stumbled forward.
Reagan, off balance and clearly exhausted, stumbled to the sand once more. This time, she didn't immediately get up. She lay there, panting heavily, her shoulders rising and falling with each laboured breath.
