The first battle came, Yannick Wutherhorn versus Vale Drake, this tournament had stretched for about six hours already, and it was nearing its end,
The two men were called out.
Vale came out in his usual fashion, smiling a wide smile and waving to the crowd. There was nothing new about his entrance, only that the crowd, at least the part that liked him, cheered as loudly as they could.
He's stood tall, at approximately six foot tall with his almost golden armor and his large sword buried in a crack in the ground. He was cocky, that much was sure.
Yannic was next to be called out, as he would be the opponent. The man walked out with practiced rhythm and grace, he didn't smile nor frown, he kept the same indifferent demeanor he almost always had. He took competition seriously, and felt like whoever didn't was a loser.
