Now we get information on these two.
"It seems we have a duel."
Alpha's voice rolled across the arena, smooth and delighted, like he was introducing a comedy act instead of a death match.
"The Red Caveman," he continued, "used to be one of the most brutal serial killers we've ever had the privilege of displaying. Powerful, violent, and stubborn enough to keep breathing even when everyone wanted him to stop."
He tilted his head slightly, as if remembering something amusing.
"And it gets better. He wasn't even caught by local guards. No, no. He was unknowingly captured by one of the units under the First Princess."
Alpha spread his arms.
"On the other hand,"
His eyes slid toward the ten-foot figure.
"…the Adiphyte is here by choice."
He laughed out loud, loud enough for the front rows to hear the genuine amusement in it.
"What a sneaky, sneaky guy. He really chose the only tournament where his lineage would matter. He has guts. I'll give him that."
The drumbeats returned, deeper now, like a second heartbeat under the arena.
And the fight broke out.
The ten-foot Adiphyte was slow at first, heavy, deliberate, like it was testing the sand beneath its feet. Then, in the next breath, it moved fast. Its huge frame surged forward with a sudden acceleration that didn't match its size, closing the distance between them instantly.
It reached for the Red Caveman.
A punch was coming, simple, direct, meant to crush.
But before the fist could land, fire erupted between them.
A violent blast of heat forced the ten-foot figure back, repelling it across the arena in a sliding grind of sand and debris. The Red Caveman had already moved, already set his stance, both hands glowing with condensed flame.
He slammed his palms onto the ground.
Fire pulsed outward, cracking across the sand like veins.
Then he lifted his head, eyes locked on his opponent and opened his mouth.
A long streak of fire shot out, raw, concentrated, and brutal. It struck the ten-foot figure full on, burning into it, pushing it back another distance, scorching it with a heat that made the air shimmer.
The Red Caveman breathed hard.
He watched, expecting the body to weaken.
But the wound he caused didn't stay.
Slowly at first then faster, the Adiphyte began repairing itself. Burned flesh closed. Charred sections reformed.
The Red Caveman's irritation sharpened into agitation.
He condensed fire again, but this time his focus narrowed.
A spear of flame formed in his hands, tighter, sharper, aimed with intent rather than brute force.
He screamed, voice cracking with anger:
"I bet you can't repair your head!"
And he threw it straight toward the Adiphyte's eyes.
The spear flew like a line of judgment.
But before it could connect, the Adiphyte changed.
Its ten-foot form compressed violently, shrinking down into a one-foot body in an instant. All the fat, all the stored power, condensed inward, compacting into its small frame. It barely managed to escape the blow, the spear grazing the space where it had been.
The Red Caveman didn't stop.
He threw another spear.
Then another.
The first nearly hit. The second came closer.
But this time, it didn't affect the Adiphyte the same way, its movement was sharper now, its control more precise. It slid out, creating distance, refusing to be pinned.
Then it returned.
The small body expanded back into the ten-foot form, towering again, eyes bleeding slightly, but already regenerating. The damage didn't linger. It healed as it rose.
The Adiphyte looked at the Red Caveman and spoke calmly, almost politely.
"If we were fighting normally, you'd have the advantage," it said. "But in this situation, in these conditions, you don't have enough time. You can't walk normally, and you can't use your magic freely."
A pause.
"So, what do you think?"
Its voice sharpened just slightly.
"How about you spare me the trouble and kill yourself?"
The Red Caveman's face twisted.
He hated that, hated hearing his own logic thrown back at him.
He started glistening with heat, and then he compressed his fire, melting it down into small, bean-like shapes, dense, fast, and many. Without slowing, he launched them.
They moved like bullets.
The Adiphyte dodged, fast, tight movements for something that big, but barely. Each dodge came close. Each strike missed by inches.
The audience screamed.
They loved it.
They didn't care who won, they cared that it looked like both of them could win.
A fight between two attacking magic types.
A duel that didn't pretend to be honorable.
Then suddenly...
The Adiphyte shifted tactics.
It used explosion magic.
It launched upward, flying higher and higher into the air until it hovered above the arena. Its voice rang out, amplified by magic, echoing across the stands.
"Everyone," it screamed, "I heard that this is a proud and noble city famous for its parties. Allow me to show you something you don't see very normally."
It spread its arms.
"A firework in broad daylight."
And the arena exploded.
Blast after blast tore through the floor, ripping sand and stone apart as if the ground itself had become unstable. A protective shield activated immediately to protect the spectators, a shining barrier that absorbed the force and kept the stands intact.
Alpha stood behind the shield, smiling like a child.
"It looks like this one has special explosion magic," he announced, voice bright with approval. "He can leave it underground and use it later. As a medium. As a trap."
He gestured toward the ruined arena floor.
"They are tough. Extremely tough. If you don't have experience fighting their kind, you'll be in grave danger."
His grin widened.
"They don't only use magic, they use heritage. Bloodline. Race-type power."
"They use their own skin; anything tied to their body as a medium to trigger and spread their effects. If your eyes aren't sensitive to magic, you're finished before you even understand what happened.
He probably did it to agitate his opponent, to keep him focused on him instead of noticing the particles.
That's why in a real fight you never underestimate anyone, and you never lose your cool."
The explosions slowed.
Smoke drifted.
The arena settled.
And when the dust finally cleared, there was nothing left down there, parts of the ground looked completely erased.
Only one figure remained visible.
One person stood in mid-air, using magic beneath his feet to maintain posture. He slowly returned to his short form, breathing heavy, body tight with strain.
Alpha watched him, satisfied.
Then he lifted his arms to the crowd.
"Looks like we have a winner."