Amazon Apocalypse 4: Chapter 68

Myrina ended up starting a massive brawl. I'd been too focused on Cyra to hear what she said or watch what she did, but she riled up the whole crowd, both highborn and low alike. Though the fighting started with her, the anger swiftly boiled over to something more all-encompassing, and soon all but the most reserved fighters were bashing one another into the dirt.

Ironically, Myrina ended up slipping away just when the fighting was getting thickest. Not that she felt lucky for such a thing.

"Aww. Do we really have to go now? The party was finally getting good!" Myrina pouted.

"Yes, we're going home," I replied, dragging her along by the wrist.

Myrina's glum mood faded when we arrived at Bridget's apartment. She was too tired to cook, but she'd snuck plenty of snacks leftover from her work, and we all helped ourselves to them. Sakura revealed a personal stash of Amazonian ale, which she and Myrina indulged in. Bridget and I went to bed early while they did their best to party on their own, each celebrating for different reasons.

I hadn't kept track of how long I'd been skipping sleep to keep up with all the things going on, so I ended up passing out as soon as I had my arms around Bridget. When I woke, Bridget was slipping out of my grasp to go to work, but I was able to roll over and grab Sakura to fill my empty arms.

Eventually, she left too, and I dragged a bleary-eyed and hung-over Myrina out of bed for the first day of the singles tournament. Thankfully, she was quick to recover, and after rummaging around for some of Bridget's leftovers we left her apartment, found somewhere discrete to suit up, and then we were on our way back to the tournament.

"I think people remember you from last night," I muttered over radio to Myrina.

"As they should," Myrina seemed proud at all the angry death glares we were receiving.

"There's one thing I've been wondering. Isn't a dark horse supposed to be mysterious? You're more public enemy than mystery competitor."

Myrina laughed. "Even an amateur can pull off the whole mystery woman thing! I have higher standards."

I shrugged. "If you say so. Anyway, did you see Cyra the other day during the party? She seemed colder than usual."

"She seemed fine to me." Myrina elbowed me in the side. "You just get to cheat with that handsome face and high charisma stat of yours! Now, you have to do things the hard way."

Maybe that was it. A lot of putting people at ease came from facial expressions and body language. I'd never noticed it before, but as I stacked up the charisma points, it started coming naturally to me. But most of those looks and gestures didn't work so well trapped in a two ton suit of armor.

I still felt there was more to it than Myrina was suggesting, but even if there was, it wouldn't change the plan for me. I was still going to face her in the arena, and we'd see where we stood then.

"There she is! Feisty Redhead, you bitch! I'm going to strangle you!" shouted a red-haired woman.

"My cousin. I never liked her," Myrina said over our private radio channel.

"You picked fights with the Samhain Clan too?"

"Of course! If I played favorites, it might give away my secret identity." Then Myrina turned to the red-haired woman glaring at her. "The Samhain Clan is full of bitter old crones too jealous to let their daughters have fun and marry whoever they want! And I can tell you're going to turn into such a crone a few decades from now."

The woman's cheeks flushed as red as her hair, lips turning down in a scowl. "You don't know what you're talking about, Feisty Redhead! I've got my eye on several guys during this tournament. A win in a tournament like this can count retroactively as a marriage duel, you know!"

Myrina laughed. "No doubt you will be giving away plenty of Amazonian Conqueror titles!"

Myrina and her cousin exchanged more barbed insults and jibes. I left to look for Cyra, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. When Myrina's cousin finally had enough of Myrina and retreated, I realized the Samhain Clan had a private booth. No doubt Cyra was already in there and would watch the early matches in private. I cursed my ill-fortune. It would be hard to find moments to talk to her if she was intent on minimizing her time with the other competitors. Maybe I ought to take a page from Myrina's playbook and be a bit more overt with my challenges.

***

The singles matches were a lot quicker than the team matches, everyone had their first match during the opening day of the tournament. All around us, the stands were packed, and the private boots were all lit up. Clearly, this was the event everyone had been waiting for.

Myrina's match came up first. As soon as she set foot on the stands, the crowd went wild.

"There she is! That brat needs to lose!"

"Somebody teach her a lesson, please!"

"If I don't see somebody beat her today, I'm jumping in the arena myself."

Reception from the crowd was mixed. Many really hated her, especially those from the private booths. A select few were cheering her on, but Myrina waved to the whole crowd like she was a beloved star.

She was up against some Dragon Lodge girl, so I made sure Myrina was armed with something good for cutting through magic. I offered her a shield too, but she'd declined in favor of a second sword. Apparently, slicing spells out of the air was more impressive than shrugging them off with a shield.

Myrina opened as she often did, weapons spread wide and inviting attack. I was a bit worried this time, since the Samhain box was full. Cyra and Kyrina Samhain were probably in attendance, would they recognize Myrina's fighting style?

When I asked her about it, Myrina had told me not to worry. She'd changed things up a little since moving in with me and gaining so many levels. Besides, it was a big multiverse, so while her fighting style was quite distinctive, in a multiverse of countless worlds, there were plenty of people who liked to show off as much as she did.

Myrina's match wasn't much of a fight, and it took more time for the announcer to speak the names of both combatants than it did for the actual fight to take place. The Dragon Lodge wizard clearly intended to open with a shield spell, but hesitated when she saw Myrina wide open.

The wizard cut her shield spell off mid-cast, then switched to bolt of lightning. Myrina swung one sword, slicing the incoming beam of light with one blade while leaping overhead and bearing down on the wizard with the other. In half a second, Myrina had covered the better part of the arena, and most of that in one power armor enhanced leap.

The wizard let out a shriek, hesitantly casting her shield spell, but what little she could form before Myrina landed didn't hold up against magic-piercing blades. Myrina's sword sliced right through the shield in time for her feet to land in the center of the wizard's stomach, knocking her to the ground.

The move stirred a cloud of dust and sand around them both for a moment, and when the dust fell, Myrina stood with a boot planted on the chest of the wizard and both swords crossed over her neck.

After that, the wizard yielded, though she didn't seem pleased to do so. No doubt she'd been hoping to at least win her first match, but luck wasn't on her side.

A few more matches ticked by until eventually my name was called. I rose and strode into the arena, taking my position against my opponent. I didn't recognize my opponent, but the tattoos crawling up and down his arm were reminiscent of the Phantomfist Clan.

"Nice armor. It ain't going to save you though, tin man," the Phantomfist clansman grunted as he cracked his knuckles. The markings on his arm writhed and emitted faint black smoke.

I scanned the audience. Most people were only moderately interested in my match. Plenty had seen Myrina and me win the team tournament, but that had been before the stadium filled. Most just saw me as one more competitor, albeit in nicer armor than most. A few might have even seen my face on the posters with Team Seraphim while walking the city streets and knew I was sponsored by a local armor shop.

But Myrina's strategy of making the audience hate her had proved the better one here, at least in regards to getting attention. A few people called my name, but I hadn't caught attention like she had.

But that was alright. After all, there was only one pair of eyes I was interested in catching.

I turned my head to the Samhain Clan private booth and waved. With my senses enhanced by the System and copious amounts of magitech, I sensed a modest curious murmur running through the crowd at the gesture, but that was all. Hopefully Cyra was watching, because I planned to take this Phantomfist guy down in her name.

"Hey! Look at me, buddy. You can't afford to take your eyes on me if you want to make this match last more than a few seconds..." the Phantomfist Clansman threatened.

"Begin!" the referee called, and the match began.

Immediately, the Phantomfist Clansman crossed his arms. One of the largest tattoos on his shoulder wriggled and grew. The black smoke it was emitting swirled to life, forming a spectral image of a massive bear around the Phantomfist Clansman. Empowered by whatever ability he just used, he charged me like a wild animal.

Seeing as how I'd already decided to learn from Myrina, I left myself open for the attack. Maybe onlookers would think this was the signature recklass style where Myrina and I came from.

The Phantomfist Clansmen clamped phantom bear claws and real fists down on my shoulders... accomplishing absolutely nothing. My armor shrugged off his attacks like they weren't even there.

"Huh? What the hell is this stuff made of?" the Phantomfist Clansman asked.

"Here. I'll let you take a closer look." I cocked back my arm and slammed my fist right into his face.

My opponent staggered back, spitting shattered teeth and clutching a broken nose. I'd already put down my shield to punch him, but now I stabbed my sword into the dirt and stalked forward.

The Phantomfist Clansman struggled to speak, but eventually met out some mangled words. "Damn, alright, you're wearing some nice gear. But I've got an answer to that."

He rubbed another tattoo, and another shadow enveloped him. He dropped to all fours, lowering his head. This time, the swirling smoke took a rhinoceros-like form. The tip of his shadowy horn took shape over his broken nose. I held my hands out and beckoned him forward, completely unarmed.

He took the invitation for what it was and charged me like a beast.

I planted my feet, lowered my shoulders, and thrust my hands forward. The swirling shape in the form of a rhinoceros felt as solid as flesh under my grip, and if I closed my eyes I would have been certain I was wrestling a wild beast.

I strained against the force, but only for a moment. My feet gained traction and the servos lining my back, chest, and arms buzzed with activity as they shifted gears to maximize torque. In slow motion, I hoisted the entire phantom rhino over my head and threw it across the arena.

Upon impact, the black mist exploded in all directions. The Phantomfist Clansman struggled to his feet again, slower this time. New shadows writhed on his arms, this time in the shape of an enormous bird.

But I had no desire to chase him across the arena. Before he could take flight, I grabbed his ascending heel and brought him back to the ground face-first. I was on top of him before he could summon another beast around himself, and suddenly we were in a fistfight.

He squared up against me, throwing a useless punch that slid right off my armor. I replied with a rapid series of blows to the chest and face. When I let up, he wandered the arena sands on shaky steps for a few moments, but I could tell from the distant look in his eyes that the fight was over. He was already unconscious, his feet just didn't know it yet.

I turned to leave the arena, and behind me, his face struck the sands as his feet caught up with his head and he passed out.

"Winner, Doomblade!" the referee announced. Hopefully Sakura had placed some decent bets on me there. And hopefully Cyra had seen the fight. A few more of these, and the next time we chatted she wouldn't be so quick to brush me off.

A few in the crowd clapped. Others voiced their concerns.

"You see how that armor just shrugged off all those attacks? And how his gauntlets lit up when he punched?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah. I don't think that Doomblade guy used a single ability."

People were catching on that my armor was doing the heavy lifting during my fights. I hoped they'd be impressed by it, but with our poor reputation, I suspected the public would spin it otherwise.

One of the final matches of the day was Cyra's fight. Much of the audience had already gone home after the celebration of the opening matches wore thin so there wasn't much of a crowd.

I leaned forward in my seat, and for a moment her eyes scanned the crowd. Her gaze met mine, but only for a moment.

She turned to her opponent and drew her sword in one of the most common ready positions. She held the weapon with both hands and the point toward her enemy. Her form was picture perfect, and I had no doubt some of the recording crystals flashing in the distance would have her current pose copied and drawn into basic textbooks on swordsmanship.

Across from her was one of the adventurers Myrina and I had fought. I knew them to be capable fighters, just not on the level of Myrina and me. They might have been able to beat Cyra just after she'd made the transition to C-Grade, but I knew she'd gone through some truly hellish training since then and was interested in seeing how far she'd come.

"Begin!" the referee said.

The two fighters rushed toward one another. Cyra was taking no chances here, and her moves weren't showy or flashy in the slightest. Instead, they were brutally efficient and executed flawlessly down the the smallest detail. The adventurer's sword was shoved aside by Cyra's blade, giving her leverage and an advantageous position. Cyra twisted forcing the adventurer's grip wide for a moment and giving her the chance to draw a faint line of blood across the adventurer's throat. A few bare drops of blood dripped out, but that was all.

A little further and she would have cut his throat. Much further and she would have cut off his head.

"Surrender," Cyra commanded. The man clutched his throat, eyes uncomprehending. Someone as skilled as him had to know the fight was as good as over, but he rolled to his feet and picked up his sword again anyway.

This time, Cyra was much quicker to put him back down. She twisted the hilt of her sword around to catch his blade, then she grabbed his pommel and drove both him and the sword backward. An instant later, he was on his back with Cyra's sword and his own pointed at either eye.

"I... I yield," the man grunted.

While the first strike had been quick enough he could pretend he hadn't noticed. The two blades dangling in his face were a lot harder to ignore.

The referee called the match a moment later, and Cyra walked off the field victorious. Though the crowd had thinned, I couldn't help but feel they were cheering louder than they had for my victory.

She strayed to the right side of the arena, and her eyes turned to me for just a moment. This time I was certain our gazes met. And this time she wore the faintest hint of a smile. To me, it was almost like a challenge.

She didn't think I could beat her. I'd have to prove her wrong.


<Note>
Not much longer now before the big fight. I don't want to draw the singles matches out too much, since this isn't a full book about a tournament, just a minor arc. You guys are actually catching up with me thanks to a long chapter and some editing I had to do to the early chapters recently. I was hoping I'd be more ahead and could drop some bonus chapters for the Thanksgiving holidays, but right now they don't exist yet!