Aerelia Torqueburn couldn’t bear to watch as her sister Techa entered the Arena. This whole bet with Mecha was stupid. This whole fighting in the Arena was stupid. Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she knew Techa was defeated the moment she heard the shield-shattering smash of the warhammer. Nurse Nora had been swift to the scene, accompanied by Amy, the shield bearer, and together the two had carried the unconscious Techa to the haven to recover. I hope she’s going to be okay, Aerelia thought, a knot of worry in her stomach.
Arena nights were good for business, though, and business had been booming this month. Aerelia operated a balloon ship, transporting the city’s wealthiest citizens across its sprawling expanse. The Arena was located on the coast, far from the heart of town, so those who could afford it preferred to fly rather than endure the lengthy walk. In fact, her arrogant client, whom she had flown to the Arena just moments ago, was now entering from the benches. Aerelia truly wished she would lose; she’d much rather transport an unconscious version of Blaze Reddington than the one who boasted non-stop on the journey here. But Aerelia knew she was wishing for too much. Blaze Reddington never lost.
The crowd erupted in a wild roar for Blaze, though Aerelia almost didn’t recognize her without the massive blunderbuss she typically carried. Guns weren’t allowed in the Arena, and it seemed Blaze intended to fight bare-handed. Gosh, she’s so arrogant, Aerelia thought, a grudging admiration mixing with her annoyance. But would she truly be able to beat this colossal woman who had knocked out her own sister in one hit?
The echoing clang of the gong signaled the start of the fight. Blaze wasted no time, immediately launching into a barrage of taunts at her opponent, who was easily twice her size. Her opponent, introduced as Bridget, was fighting in the Arena for the first time. Aerelia didn’t recognize her, which meant she wasn’t from a noble family, though her hair had more fiery red in it than Aerelia’s own faint ginger curls.
With her taunts dissolving into the roaring cacophony of the crowd, Blaze, a whirlwind of compact fury, launched her assault. She moved with the coiled spring energy of a seasoned fighter, striking first not with brute force, but with a series of blindingly fast feints and jabs designed to test Bridget's reactions. Bridget, a towering figure clad in heavy, gleaming armor, surprised everyone with her agility. She weaved and swayed, dodging Blaze’s initial probes with an impressive burst of speed that belied her immense size. The crowd gasped, then cheered, sensing an underdog with unexpected grace.
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But Blaze was relentless. The more Bridget danced and evaded, the more Blaze pressed, her attacks becoming a relentless, rhythmic drumming. Each feint was followed by a true strike, each jab a test of Bridget's endurance. The heavy armor that offered Bridget such protection now became her gilded cage. It muffled her movements, adding a drag to every pivot and retreat. She struggled to match Blaze’s ever-increasing pace, the smaller woman a blur of motion, circling, feinting, never allowing Bridget a moment’s respite.
Soon, the blows began to land. Not devastating, bone-shattering impacts, but sharp, stinging jabs to Bridget's exposed joints, quick uppercuts to the chin that snapped her head back, glancing blows to the ribs that made her grunt with effort. Bridget tried to create distance, to retreat, taking a desperate step back, then another. If she could just regain her composure, find a moment to plant her feet, and unleash a true, counter-attack, Blaze, for all her speed, would be momentarily exposed.
But Blaze was a true master of combat, her instincts honed in a decade of fighting mutated horrors. She knew the best defense was a strong offense. She gave Bridget no quarter, no breath, no chance to recover. Each retreat was met with a swift advance, each attempted block with a feint that opened another vulnerability. Bridget’s massive war hammer, so potent in a single, crushing blow, became a hindrance, too slow to meet Blaze’s lightning-fast attacks. It became a defensive wall, constantly trying to deflect the flurry of smaller, faster punches.
Bridget tried her best. She roared, swinging her hammer in wide, desperate arcs, hoping to catch Blaze in a lucky hit, to create some space. But Blaze was a ghost, always just out of reach, dancing on the edge of her opponent's desperate flails. The crowd was on its feet, a primal roar of excitement filling the Arena, sensing the inevitable. Blaze was a machine, a relentless force of nature, picking apart her colossal opponent with surgical precision.
No wonder Blaze was the formidable, utterly merciless leader of the city’s Attack Force. Soon, the ceaseless jabs, the relentless pressure, the sheer exhaustion, became too much for the giant Bridget. Her massive legs buckled, and she crumpled to the ground, a defeated mountain of armor.
Blaze, unspent and radiating raw power, raised her arms in triumph. The crowd erupted, a deafening wave of ecstatic cheers washing over the Arena, acknowledging their champion.
It hadn't been a fair fight, not truly. But Aerelia thought, at least Techa hadn't gone up against Blaze. Aerelia sighed, knowing she wasn't going to hear the end of this fight when she transported Blaze back home.
