The man in question only spared a glance at Leonard Highpass, who drew large sweeping lines with the metal capped ends of his staff to fend off the three attackers on his tail, drawing a long line around the center of the pit.

They spread out a bit to draw his focus and then allow another one of them to attack a blindspot, yet they were far too naive to think that such low level tactics would work on him.

Nevertheless, they had a similar mindset to the other participants without any fame and stalled things out, hoping to waste less stamina between the three of them instead of the noble warrior.

As for the last minor clash going on right now, Nisha lacked a line of sight to confirm the exact situation, though going by the clashes of metal on metal from time to time, it was safe to say that a similar development played out there as well.

While the dragon could see through the stalling tactic of weaker opponents against a mighty foe, it was different for the audience who mostly came for the excitement and placing small bets.

No matter what, a fight was a fight and seeing the famous bearers of the monikers fight off several attackers at once, they cheered anyway.

As a matter of fact, there was a certain barrier to observing the fights if they truly wanted to enjoy the intricacies and battle skills anyway.

Without sufficient cultivation, most of the audience did not see much more than the surface actions and the outcome of clashes, perceiving a blur at most when those above their own ranks went all out.

Of course the fights themselves were still exciting and more than enough entertainment when blood dyed the sand red, did they not look down on those with higher cultivation for their joy and pleasure?

Hence the roars and cheers rose a level as Ralf the Butcher approached one of the two fighters near ‘Fierce‘ Olaf and wielded his large knife.

The interesting thing about the hunched over scrawny man with a foreboding title was twofold.

 

For one, he barely had a presence on his own.

All the way from the left corner of the pit until he arrived at the back of those fighting at the top from Nisha‘s perspective, he had always been smiling and walking in a measured gait as if he was on a stroll and not in a fight.

Despite that, only the experienced titled warriors picked up on his actions, mostly because they already witnessed what he was really capable of when he erupted in a battle.

And secondly, he grinned like an innocent and excited child, even as he wielded the cleaver.

No one would associate his expression with the malice and manic excitement as the blade bit deeply into one of the warrior’s hindside.

The man in question had just blocked a heavy slam from the barbarian’s axe, stumbling back and reeling from the blow, when the Butcher asserted his existence by drawing a huge arc with his weapon and cutting into the warrior in question.

The blade connected with his shoulder, rending deep enough to reveal the white of the shoulder bone, and carved downward over the rips, barely missing the spine.

Before the pain set in and the man had the chance to cry out in pain, the blade flashed again at the end of its trajectory and cut through both of his upper thighs, sending the victim sprawling on the arena sand, which quickly soaked up the blood spilling from the glaring wounds.

As soon as the grisly wounds registered, the unnamed fighter began screaming in agony, unable to stand up again.

To his horror, it did not look like Ralf the Butcher planned to stop, the unassuming and inconspicuous scrawny man suddenly towering over him like an arbiter of life and death.

The cleaver in his hand only needed to swing down, and his life would be forfeit.

At the beginning of the game, it was decided that the condition for defeat was only drawing blood, which was long since achieve as blood dyed the ground.

Nevertheless, the Butcher apparently planned on finishing the job.

It was not explicitly forbidden either, anyone stepping inside the pit knew that their life was on the line and that unexpected accidents could mean that casualties appeared.

Yet those accidents generally meant that a rather shallow wound turned out to nick something important inside the body and led to death before the priests waiting outside the ring could get to the wounded, instead of a participant insisting on finishing an opponent off.

Just before the gleaming weapon bolted down and could claim a life, ‘Fierce’ Olaf bridged the gap between them and bore down with his axe against the unprotected Butcher.

Unable to defend himself, Ralf the Butcher drew back and threw himself into the dust, rolling and crawling away from the angry warrior.

The female warrior, who had been shocked from the moment her temporary teammate was felled, failed to react until now.

At one moment, they besieged a named giant, and in the next, an unexpected intruder cut down one of them.

She shivered at the thought, if she had been unlucky, the Butcher might as well have chosen her to ambush and cut up.

 

‘Fierce’ Olaf looked at the scampering coward who picked himself up quicker than a rabbit and ran in a different direction before he had a chance to pursue the Butcher and gave up on pursuing him.

It was not a sort of misguided mercy or pity that compelled the barbarian to save his competitor, he was indifferent towards their life and death.

But if a participant died in a friendly brawl like this where the first blood was supposed to end things, it would not only reflect badly on the killer.

Killing someone in the arena was not a crime and no one would hold you responsible, but the pool of fighters was only so big in the kingdom.

Once rumors circulated that the risk of death and serious injury was much higher in fights that the named participants engaged in spread around, other fighters would not agree to take part in matches against them.

Among the second rank warriors and magicians in the lower half of the second rank, few already wanted to duel against those with monikers - as a result their chances to enter the ring and earn resources plummeted.

They had to take on multiple people at once and compete against other renowned figures to gather enough bets and enter the pit, otherwise, their cultivation would slow down from the lack of resources.

Even someone like Ralf the Butcher was included in the game, so he had to take action to protect his interests, rather than save someone else.

Due to the nature of their occupation, famous fighters operated in a relatively small circle and distributed themselves among the minor levels of a rank.

In theory, they could already push for a higher level of cultivation with the resources they earned from the fights, but then they would suffer a high risk of losing their moniker in a higher level of competition.

Only by amassing a reserve in advance and preparing sufficient techniques and similar auxiliary items would the named fighters advance and keep their income and fame.

If Olaf had allowed the Butcher to carry on, it would have gone against his own interests and threatened his prospects to advance or at least prolong the trajectory of his cultivation by a long time.

Naturally, that was only his motivation, no one could understand the thoughts of a maniac like Ralf the Butcher who didn’t care about his own image or future and rolled around the ground like a ragged doll.

The startled woman regained her bearing as a green glow settled over the fallen form of her previous companion, lessening the blood flow from the wounds and preserving his life for the time being.

One of the healers on standby took action and cast a spell from afar, once the fight progressed and the combatants moved away from that spot, the employees of the arena would be able to extract the disqualified fighter and bring him for further treatment.

 

Nisha knew that the fall of a participant meant that the competition now steered towards its conclusion.

Previously, the two unnamed fighters took turns to confront ‘Fierce’ Olaf, striking from the side and back of the barbarian to restrain him and relieve pressure from the other party.

It was clear that each of their individual strengths was beneath the shirtless man, yet by cooperating they managed to hold out.

Now that one of them was felled by the Butcher, it was only a matter of time until the remaining one got defeated by ‘Fierce’ Olaf, which would release the strong fighter to pressure others in the pit.

And when even the elf in the stands could tell that the situation was grim, the fighters inside the pit all the more grasped the current situation.

The woman left behind by the loss of her companion wanted to flee the upper section and reconvene with the two other groups of regular fighters, but there was no chance that an experienced champion like ‘Fierce’ Olaf would let her off the hook.

Blocking her path, his short axe unrelentingly threatened her safety and left deep clefts in the small wooden shield that weathered the assault.

With each blow, the woman’s face whitened more, aware of her impending doom.

Ralf the Butcher, who succeeded in wounding one person at least, did not bother to dust off his clothes and merrily went on his way in the search of his next victim.

It was impossible to discern that he almost just gutted a man, he had a smile on his wrinkly face and he no longer hunched over quite as much.

Twirling the meat cleaver in his hands as if it weighed just as much as a feather, he eyed the three warriors following Leonard Highpass and the other two that besieged ‘Sharp Blade’ Jason, looking for his next prey.

Seeing the despicable man strut around after sneak attacking a fellow competitor, the audience bood and jeered at the Butcher, while the announcer similarly followed his feats with negative commentary.

The dragon shut out their noises though and concentrated on the fight.

Comparing the fights in the arena with her excursions into the Dungeon, there was a stark difference between the short, high-impact clashes adventurers went through in order to kill monsters compared to the more drawn-out and tactical display in the Arena.

When fighting a monster or beast, the process was like a bolt of lightning, two sides clashed and by throwing all tricks and secret moves out in short succession, one side or the other would be relieved of their head and become the spoils of the victor.

 

The current brawl demonstrated another method of employing tactics for the dragon, though.

Just going by strength, the most powerful contestants had to be either ‘Sharp Blade’ Jason, who now moved into Nisha’s point of view, or Leonard Highpass.

As far as equipment went, Jason probably had the least amount of all participants, he did not bother with shields, cumbersome armor or anything that inhibited his ability to wield his sword.

With a lonesome shortsword in his right hand, he wholly dominated the two ordinary fighters that sought to contain his advancement.

Dancing left and right, it was impossible for his adversaries to corner ‘Sharp Blade’ Jason, who fully showed how he earned his moniker with powerful moves.

Every hit sent the defender flying a short distance, leaving them staggered and terrified despite the weapon in question being wielded singlehandedly.

It was only possible to stall him in desperate hopes of reinforcement, and even then the two warriors teetered on the brink of defeat.

While Leonard Highpass did not quite match the boundless muscle strength of the swift blade, his staff danced like the wind and always managed to intercept the offenses of his agressors.

Between the hammer, mace and longsword that his opponents had chosen at the beginning of the brawl, the noble fighter constantly picked the most suitable answer to their attacks.

For the heavy attacks from the blunt hammer and mace, his staff gently directed their blows away from his body or downwards towards the soft sand in the arena pit, whereas the swift slashes of the greatsword got stopped short or parried with clever angles.

Despite facing the greatest number of opponents, Leonard Highpass appeared to have the easiest time out of all the fighters as he drew firm boundaries with the metal capped ends of his staff and retreated away from the trio when the pressure mounted.

The grace and swiftness these two were moving with as well as their uncontested strength firmly put them at the top of the pecking order, and yet they were still embroiled in a stalemate due to the numbers and tactics of their opponents.

In any one on one situation, they would make short work of their foes and triumph brilliantly, but now they were bogged down and had to wait for an opportunity to break through the blockade and employ a position of absolute superiority.

Nisha would guess that either of them was going to end up as the final champion, though it was hard to say what exactly was going to happen once chaos descended on the ring.

And because Ralf the Butcher picked his next target, the situation was about to devolve once again.