Kalem finally stepped into the arena, the dueling pendant hanging around his neck glinting faintly under the magical lights. The air was charged with anticipation as spectators whispered among themselves about his next match. His opponent stood on the opposite end, tall and lean with a confident air about him.
The fighter introduced himself with a small bow. "Jhaeros, Beast Studies division."
Kalem inclined his head in return. "Kalem, Materials."
Jhaeros belonged to a race known as the Ilvaar, humanoids with feline traits like sharp claws, heightened reflexes, and night vision. His sleek, almost predatory movements and the faint gleam in his slit-pupiled eyes instantly marked him as an Ilvaar to those who were familiar with them.
The crowd murmured in excitement. Ilvaar were known for their unorthodox fighting styles, blending agility and strategy in ways that often left their opponents disoriented. Kalem, on the other hand, was an unpredictable fighter in his own right. His win history was inconsistent, but his creative use of weapons had drawn attention from both students and faculty alike.
Kalem stepped into the arena, gripping his jagged-crimson spear. The weapon's shaft glinted faintly, as if the material itself were alive.
Jhaeros tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing on the weapon. "Hmm, what creature did you make it from?"
"You noticed," Kalem replied, not particularly surprised.
"Hard not to. My people have an... intimate relationship with beasts. That spear has a story, doesn't it?"
Before the conversation could continue, an impatient yell erupted from the crowd. "Stop chatting and fight already!"
Kalem sighed, glancing toward the source of the interruption. "Way to ruin the mood," he muttered under his breath.
Jhaeros chuckled softly, his stance shifting into a low, fluid position. "No point in dwelling. Shall we?"
The fight began with Kalem making the first move, closing the distance between them in an instant. His spear thrust toward Jhaeros' midsection with deadly precision. But Jhaeros twisted his body unnaturally, his feline flexibility allowing him to dodge the attack with ease.
Kalem frowned. "Are bodies supposed to bend like that?"
Jhaeros smirked, his claws extending slightly. "Are you supposed to aim for the neck on your first strike?"
"Fair enough," Kalem muttered, gripping his spear tighter.
The next exchange was faster, more fluid. Jhaeros weaved around Kalem's strikes with an almost playful air, his movements light and precise. Kalem, in contrast, wielded his spear with brute force, each strike calculated but full of raw power.
The crowd watched in awe as the two fighters danced around the arena, their styles clashing like night and day. Jhaeros' graceful dodges seemed effortless, while Kalem's relentless attacks pushed him to the edges of the arena more than once.
After another flurry of exchanges, Kalem stepped back, his breath steady but his mind working furiously to analyze his opponent.
Jhaeros tilted his head, his expression curious. "Had enough?"
"No," Kalem replied flatly.
Then, the marks etched into his gauntlet began to glow faintly, drawing gasps from the audience. From the sidelines, a sword suddenly flew through the air, landing firmly in Kalem's outstretched hand.
Jhaeros' eyes gleamed with interest. "Interesting."
Kalem's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "It's about to get more interesting."
With that, he hurled his spear toward Jhaeros, the crimson weapon spinning through the air like a living missile. Jhaeros dodged again, his body twisting mid-air, but his eyes widened as he realized Kalem was already charging toward him, sword in hand.
The moment Jhaeros landed, Kalem swung the blade in a wide arc, forcing the Ilvaar to backpedal. Before Jhaeros could recover, an axe flew into Kalem's free hand, and he brought it down in a heavy overhead strike.
"What the—?" Jhaeros exclaimed, his reflexes barely saving him as he rolled to the side.
Kalem continued to press the attack, seamlessly switching between the sword, axe, and spear. Each weapon moved as if it were an extension of his body, guided by the glowing marks on his gauntlet. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, the clash of metal and the sharp sound of footsteps echoing through the arena.
Jhaeros, however, was not easily outdone. With a sudden burst of speed, he closed the distance between them, his claws raking toward Kalem's chest. Kalem barely blocked the attack with his axe, the force of the blow pushing him back several steps.
"You're full of surprises," Jhaeros admitted, his tone laced with genuine admiration.
"Likewise," Kalem replied, his gaze steady.
The match continued, each fighter adapting to the other's style. Jhaeros began targeting Kalem's weapons, trying to disarm him, while Kalem used his gauntlet to recall his weapons whenever they were knocked from his grasp. The two were evenly matched, and the crowd was completely enthralled.
By the time the match ended, both fighters were breathing heavily but grinning. The duel was declared a draw, but the respect between the two combatants was clear.
As they left the arena, Jhaeros approached Kalem, his curiosity unabated. "You'll have to tell me more about that spear of yours sometime. And the gauntlet. And the axe."
Kalem chuckled softly. "Only if you tell me how you move like that."
"Deal," Jhaeros said with a toothy grin.
The crowd dispersed, but whispers about the match lingered, marking it as one of the most memorable duels of the day.