by Liandra Jake
Corenden readied himself as #243 shot again, this time with a mix of darkness and sparking neon. Corenden deflected it with the flat of his blade, a hand bracing the middle of the blade. He charged at her, mixing long jumps with beats of his wings. #243 engaged the second bow on her crossbow, sacrificing firing speed for a faster and more powerful shot. She swung it like a bat to meet Corenden's blade, pulling the trigger moments before the collision.
The second wave of water from Corenden froze the instant it touched #243's skin; the moment when Corenden could no longer hold its form. Corenden took a powerful shot to the chest, knocked back into a high drift of snow. It made him notice just how much the snow had picked up. With a glance at the stats, #243 cursed. She was down half and she had only just nicked at Corenden's Endurance.
Corenden emerged from the snow, a crossbow bolt lodged in a chunk of wood pressed tightly against his chest, frozen to his cold armor. Corenden pulled it off, revealing nothing more than a thin patch of frosted wood. #243 crouched, preparing her next shot. With a moment of pure surprise, she was knocked back by a hammer made of dense wood. Corenden had hurried after his projectile, arriving in time to kick away #243's crossbow into the thickening snow.
She sat up and glanced around, distraught. Corenden brought his sword down. #243 snatched up Corenden's wooden hammer and caught the blade in it, throwing the handle away as Corenden easily dismembered it a fraction of a second later. #243 brought her hands up, bouncing back and forth to raise her temperature. She was surprised when he retreated.
Corenden sheathed his sword with a smug grin. He kicked something up out of a drift of snow. In a single movement, Corenden caught #243's crossbow, pulled the string back, and loaded in a wooden bolt. She charged at him, far faster without her weapon. Corenden shot into the air, disappearing into the snowstorm. #243 was on high alert, listening for the tell-tale sign of something moving quickly through the air.
A low whistle to her left made her roll forward, only to be shot in the back mid-roll with Corenden's wooden bolt. She groaned, finally out of Endurance, she flipped onto her back with hopes the cold would numb the pain. Corenden approached her to return her crossbow.
"How did you-?" She asked with an exhausted limpness. Corenden lifted his sword, coated in wood. He spun it, producing a whistle as the air passed around small holes. "…Damn." She said with an impressed look. Corenden returned to his side of the field, backed by a roar from the biased crowd.
#108 gave Corenden a thumbs up as he passed him on his way out. "You're really kicking ass you know." "Thanks I suggest you watch your left side. You've been leaving it open lately." Corenden replied. He nodded to himself as he prepared to face #117. As Corenden had suggested to him, #108 paid closer attention to his left side, a keystone in his victory.
The match before Corenden's second of the day was the longest, and ended in a draw with both fighters incapacitated. The officials would need to settle their score later and rearrange the brackets to compensate for their recovery time. They granted a temporary reprieve as they hammered out the details. With a call for Corenden and #234, the tournament was back on.
Corenden was a little worried as #234 didn't have a fight before this one, as Long forfeited without lifting a paw against him. Corenden took a deep breath and strutted out to meet #234. #234 held his arm out to the side as he approached, hand twisted awkwardly to point down. 'A Point-Match?' Corenden looked #234 up and down before copying the gesture. 'I guess he doesn't want to win by Long's forfeit.'
"Point-Match!" The ref called out. "First to fifteen points, 1 for blocking, 2 for successful strikes, 3 for critical, and ½ for dodging and technical strikes. Please note rapid bursts of strikes will count as a single critical, no matter how many strikes." The announcer explained. Corenden and #234 nodded to the ref. "Point-Match, Start!"
Corenden scored the first point with a burst of water that soaked #234 and the ref who didn't back away fast enough. "#256, ½ all." #234 whipped up a flurry with a strong gust of wind. Corenden countered with a more powerful burst of wind, creating a whirlwind of snow in the middle of the field. To #234, Corenden disappeared in the stifling snowfall. "#256, ½, 1." #234 cursed his choice to use wind.
Corenden dropped in a flash of white, disappearing with the flash of neon across #234's face. "#256, 2+½, 3½." #234 now sparked with lighting. A thin spider web of electricity would warn him of any sneak attacks. The electricity sparked, prompting him to pivot to face Corenden's sword, in the ground at his feet. A wooden hammer to the side of the head knocked #234 off his feet. He sat up to nothing but a field of white. "#256, 3+½, 7."
A second strike to the back of the head made him crunch forward, straining his back as his head was forced between his ankles. "#256 3+½-" The ref was interrupted as Corenden struck again, drenching #234 in water before hitting him again with the hammer. This time #234 caught the head of the hammer before it hit. #234 quickly stood. "#256 3+½+½, 11. #234, 1 all."
Corenden released the hammer and dropped to #234's feet. #234 twisted his foot, trapping one of Corenden's long feet with his heel. A strong hand grabbed Corenden's neck and a burst of electricity arced through him. "#234, ½+3, 4½" "Nope!" The announcer exclaimed. Corenden punched #234 in the knee, releasing his foot as #234 staggered. He slipped and fell from a patch of ice below him. Corenden brought a wood coated fist down on #234's face multiple times. He backed off when #234 began to move.
"Corenden wasn't affected by the electricity; a combination of his metal armor and water. His Shield didn't react." The ref briefly stopped the match for a discussion. "Correction: #234 ½, 1½. #256, 2+½+3, 16½. #256, Corenden, is the victor." #234 grumbled something about it not being a proper 2 point strike, but the ref told him even if it was considered a technical, he would have still lost.
Corenden took full advantage of the reprieve he was offered. He spent the two hours sleeping outside his armor. The first match after lunch was between #73 and #108, ending with an easy victory for #73, as #108 forgot to watch his left side. #150 and #185 went at it like animals, two Beastmasters at one with their companions. Fritz's next match took a bit of work for the officials to iron out.
#20 was the first one conscious, and fought Fritz, losing. #20 would continue, fighting the victor in a match between #19 and two of the crowd's favorites teamed up; #99 and #67. Corenden was up against #201. Corenden waddled out onto the field with a full stomach and a yawn. #201 looked like hell. He was tired from his previous matches, and Corenden could tell he didn't rest at all during the break. He also still had the sauce from his lunch on his cheek.
Corenden landed the first hit in the standard match, knocking #201 across the face with the flat of his blade. #201 tried to do a mid-air spin kick, but he only succeeded in landing on a rock and making himself nauseous. Corenden expected him to immediately recover and get to his feet, but #201 instead was so exhausted he fell asleep in a warm puddle that used to be his lunch. Corenden later learned that #201 had an issue with spicy food, and it was why he had just vomited from spinning for a few seconds.
Once #201's mess was cleaned, Corenden was out for his next match. Corenden was anxious with fighting #150. She was a Beastmaster who controlled a Freet, a northern Monster that could handle any cold Sareville could throw its way. As they frequently dived into arctic waters to catch fish, Corenden's Water Orenth was useless. It also didn't help he had problems with Freet as a young Pog, frequently getting attacked while they were hunting. #150 herself was an ace shot with a hunting rifle that used Water and Ice Orenth shots. She was a transfer from a Guild in the Northern Alliance, and was used to the cold.
The snow and wind was insane. It was a full on blizzard, dropping layers of snow everywhere. Arend, Kronth, Oragè, King, Duke, Kyrel, and Berry were the only ones still in the stands, clustering together as Duke's fire warmed them. Kyrel was able to direct some of the wind around them, but they still had to deal with the stifling snow.
Corenden found himself in a corner. His shield could
easily take #150's shots, but the Freet posed a problem for his approach. The fight dragged on so much the Freet grew tired of the wind and cold, settling on #150's shoulder. Since there was no established time limit, the fight could last until one of them succumbed to the cold.
Corenden was tiring, #150's shots beginning to make it past his defenses. In a last-ditch effort, Corenden dived into a tall drift of snow. His entry point was bombarded by #150, but he was safely tunneling away with a wooden shovel, eventually covering himself in a wooden shell as the snow began to chill him further.
He curled up and cupped his numb fingers around his mouth. The air was stifling, but it was warming quickly. Corenden's impromptu igloo proved very important, as Corenden started shivering despite warming up; it was a sign that he was very close to hypothermia without realizing it. He dug a small ditch and poked his muzzle through to get some fresh air. He breathed in, pulled his head back, and exhaled the air back into his shell, trying to retain as much heat as possible. The outside air made his lungs prickle, but he was recovering quickly.
Outside, #150 was searching the snow-filled sky for Corenden. A voice chirped in Corenden's headset. "#256, please remember the fight will end if you fall asleep." Once Corenden began to sweat, he pulled off his helmet and poked his head out of the drift; confident white-on-white was good camouflage. His eyes widened when he saw #150's backside within touching distance. Corenden literally leapt at the opportunity, thrusting his sword towards the back of her knee in a burst of snow. She only had time to look down before the blinding explosion of neon.
[X]
Corenden woke up to Berry standing over him. He was tucked into King's armpit in the lobby of the stadium. A thick blanket wrapped him tightly, forcing him into a neat burrito shape. Corenden noticed it was the same blanket Arend once gave Rose. Corenden opened his mouth, but Berry stopped him. "Hush. You did were great out there." "Did I… win? I don't…remember." Corenden said slowly, struggling to speak.
"You struck her from behind," King explained. "And with the amount of power you put in it, her Shield exploded. She was knocked out completely, but you were still standing when the snow settled. It was only when you tried to put your helmet back on that we became worried. You tried to put it on backwards and then passed out."
"You have a mild concussion." Berry said. "Although it's something I find very strange. An explosion like that should have done more to you, but I'm not complaining." "Don't forget he had as Shield." Arend said as he popped up with a cup of hot chocolate. "Why am I…?" Corenden asked. "Hypothermia." Arend replied simply holding out the cup. Corenden wiggled free from his burrito, taking the cup. "Try not to spill please." King said. "Once the storm dies down, you get to fight Fritz." Arend said.
Corenden sighed. "I didn't want to win the way I did. I don't think I can face Fritz after that mess." He sipped his drink. Corenden and Berry slid off King's side as the Pendragon stood. They sat on the floor together, Arend' blanket hanging over their shoulders. "You'll be surprised how many people disagree." King said as walked away with Arend. They joined Kronth and Oragè across the lobby.
Berry poked Corenden. "Hey. Guess how much you've made so far." "So far?" Corenden asked. "All the Low Rank matches are over." Berry laughed softly. "I believe in you." Corenden sighed, a smile spreading across his face. "So how much?" "62,000." Corenden dropped his hot chocolate, taking a full second to stare at Berry until he finally noticed where it landed. He thanked whatever god looked over him that he could use Water Orenth.
Berry laughed. "Don't go hurting yourself!" "Is that before or after paying Arend?" Corenden asked with a pained look. "Before. It's also before your victory against Fritz." Berry replied. Corenden shook his head. "Woman, you're just the right kind of crazy." "How else could I stay with you?" Berry asked as she kissed him.
[X]
The air temperature had climbed by the time Corenden and Fritz were to fight. A southern wind had pushed the storm back north, leaving only a freezing drizzle. Thanks to a little snooping, Corenden learned Fritz used Air Orenth combined with his Fire Orenth to create his signature blasts.
Fritz and Corenden were arranged back to back before the cameras were turned back on. 'More like back to calf.' Corenden silently replied to the announcer's order. He tried to shake his growing anxiety as the announcer's voice spread across the stadium. A few people had come out to join the re-formed ring of Dragon's Den members.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you've seen these two fight long and hard to reach this point. Fritz Camleash, a twenty year veteran to our tournaments, will be celebrating his 100th tournament victory this evening. With a total of 120 tournaments participated in, he's lost 16 matches, with another 4 being technicalities." Fritz raised a hand to the polite clapping.
"Corenden, the white Pog that surprised us all this past week. He's risen from the lowest slot, 256, to lead in the Low Rank brackets. He's not the first Monster we've seen fight so proudly, but he's the first rookie out of all rookies to win every match within his Rank level. We've seen him use techniques developed in early matches as he's progressed through this tournament. Even more surprising is that our Safety Shield is the only Exo-Suit he's used! In true Dragon's Den style, Corenden has taken something crazy and forced it to bend to his will."
The announcer paused at the silence. Corenden slowly looked up to Arend. He was leaning back on King, arms crossed and wearing a gigantic grin. Fritz glanced back at Corenden as he slowly floated up to eye level. An official said something to the announcer. "Oh-kay… So the big wigs want me to make an announcement or something about the current standings. About 50,000 Ere, mixed, is riding on Fritz, but an overwhelming 150,000 is riding on Corenden, mostly consisting of 100 Ere bets from scattered across the surrounding territories, including the Northern Alliance and the String Islands." The announcer glanced sideways at Arend with a quiet laugh. Arend only flashed thumbs up, still looking out at Corenden. "I wonder who could have done something like this."
Corenden turned around to face Fritz. He held out his hand as Fritz turned as well. "I don't need their cheers. I know they're behind me until I need that final push forward." Fritz shook Corenden's small hand. "Let's just see how strong that push is, yeah?" The two backed away. The young ref had an excited look. "Maaatch, START!"
Corenden's sword bounced off Fritz's right straight, the lean gauntlet only sparking. Corenden swiveled, kicking off the top of the gauntlet as a burst of fire came from around Fritz's fist. The line of Korvan running down the length of Fritz's right gauntlet blinked, slowly charging the next burst. Corenden ignored Fritz's right feint and instead knocked Fritz's uppercut aside with only a kick. Corenden readied a shield on the back of his sword, preparing to use the blast to add power to his own strike.
Corenden's sword whipped over Fritz's head as he ducked. With a push forward, Fritz drove his head towards Corenden's stomach. With a snap of his wings, Corenden dodged backwards. Fritz wiped the blood from his head, flicking the droplets away and motioning at Corenden with a wiggle of his fingers. Corenden tossed his sword to his other with a flourish, ripping the shield from it. He grinned as he tightened his grip. "W-whoa…"
Corenden rushed forward, the ground rushing past his cheek in a blur of wet dirt. Fritz pivoted, punching forward where Corenden was to pass a moment later. Corenden twisted mid-air to block with water-soaked wood. Fritz's fist alone cracked the shield, and the blast that followed shattered it. Corenden tumbled, landing on all fours with his sword in his mouth. He shifted awkwardly on his right arm. His left arm hurt like hell, but his will would go before the armor ever could.
Fritz dived at Corenden with a sliding kick. As Corenden took to the air, Fritz popped up a leg and caught him in the side. Corenden flipped uncontrollably. He landed on his feet with a stumble as Fritz stood. Corenden's sword was on the ground between him and Fritz. Corenden made a dash for it, but Fritz was far faster. Corenden had time to prepare an awkward block to meet Fritz's full-power punch. There was a no
ticeable crackle as Corenden was thrown into the wall.
Corenden stayed airborne, pushing away from the wall and looking at his left arm. The bracer had a crinkled dent, scorched over by Fritz's flames. The rain sizzled as it landed on its surface. Corenden's proud grin was gone. "Corenden!" Corenden looked towards Arend, an eye on Fritz. "Surrender! He's too much for even the armor to handle!" Corenden ignored him, testing his arm for functionality. The freezing rain began to pick up. Corenden was dry thanks to his Water Orenth control, the rain simply passing around him. "Corenden!" Arend yelled.
Corenden looked back to Fritz, who had one foot on his sword. Corenden spread his wings, letting Orenth collect in them. In a burst of wind, Corenden flew at Fritz. Fritz didn't account for just how fast Corenden could really move. As Fritz tried to punch Corenden, Corenden dipped below him and pulled his sword out from under Fritz's foot. Fritz turned quickly and was doused by a solid stream of water. Corenden floated slowly backwards, both hands tight on his sword. An edge of serrated wood now extended his reach.
Fritz scattered the chips of ice crusting over him, but found them soon replaced by the freezing rain. Corenden whipped his blade down, sending a line of water at Fritz. Fritz stopped it with his hand, the spray freezing around him. He shook the flakes of ice off. "You know Corenden, this attack wouldn't be all that effective if we weren't in a winter storm."