Orochi, in bird form, screeched his approval as Alesha jammed her spear into the neck of her opponent. He'd gotten in trouble with Zorhellian for his antics again, so he was attending the event in a birdcage, which was being carried around by an employee.
He didn't regret it one bit.
Before the fourth Story had ended, he'd made cakes identical to the viewing area's chairs and replaced several of them overnight. The looks on the faces of the Patrons had been priceless!! He'd gotten several of them on camera, too, sitting with shocked or furious looks amidst piles of sweet debris; unfortunately, Zorhellian had confiscated and destroyed the device in question before he could save the data elsewhere.
His stunt this time was, apparently, so severe that even his status as Krogor's adopted son couldn't save him from the consequences. Of course, instead of being banned from attending entirely, his position allowed him to keep doing so -- inside an enchanted birdcage and under strict supervision, for the rest of the duration of the Games. He'd probably have similar restrictions placed on him whenever he attended any of Zorhellian's future events, too.
Still, he treasured the memory of how the Patrons had looked when they sat down on chairs made of cake. Surprised, dismayed, embarrassed, livid; they'd shown quite the spectrum of reactions. He lamented the loss of the pictures. If only he'd been just a bit faster, or if Zorhellian had let him keep the camera!
He didn't even need to be able to distribute the photos! Having them for himself would have been enough.
As Alesha left the arena, holding the spear vertically in a familiar stance, Orochi's thoughts were drawn back to the present and he felt grateful for one thing: she had survived again.
He really didn't know why he cared so much about this Participant. Why did he find her so fascinating? Why did he look for her, why did he want to see what she'd get up to next? Whatever the reason, he wouldn't find the answer if she died, and he very much wanted to know what it was that made her so intriguing.
During this match, his goshawk form's sharp vision (and a convenient angle for viewing) had revealed a complex play of emotions on her face as she fought. She seemed hardened compared to her time on Werewolf Island. With a ruthless efficiency she didn't have back then, she took him down, then slaughtered him like livestock.
Something about her changed demeanor made him shiver, ruffling his feathers in delight.
He hoped she'd survive this Story. He hoped she'd win it, and that he'd be able to convince Zorhellian to let him meet her before sending her back to where (and when) she'd come from.
----
Whack-thud, slap, wham!
The blows came quick and heavy, pummeling into Ryker like a storm. He could barely keep up enough to block with his forearms. Was he lucky or unlucky that his opponent didn't have a weapon? He couldn't decide. Whatever the case, his opponent clearly knew what they were doing, because they came in and stayed too close for him to make proper use of his claymore.
Stupid movies! He thought to himself as he dodged another blow. Always using hyped-up sounds and fancy visual effects! This is nothing like Ring Fighter IX!
He ducked a right hook, then swept his left leg out, hoping to trip his opponent. Unfortunately for him, the nimble fistfighter simply hopped over it.
Then, while Ryker still hadn't recovered from his missed attack, she surged forward, sucker-punching him in the gut with a quick jab.
Out of balance and with his breath knocked out of him, Ryker fell backwards onto the sandy arena floor. He dimly heard raucous cheers from the watching crowd.
"Nola! Nola! Nola!"
This is bad, he thought. Am I about to lose? Am I going to die here??
As he lay there struggling to recover his breath, his wide eyes looked up at his opponent: a short, twin-braided brat of a girl who he'd underestimated at first sight. Now, he was about to pay the price for that.
I'll admit, that was dumb of me.
The girl raised one fist while her eyes, filled with triumph, remained glued to his helpless form.
I really wanted to save this for later.
She swung down, knuckles aimed straight for his face. He closed his eyes, still unable to breathe, then forcefully snapped them open despite his discomfort. A violet hue emanated from his irises in a targeted wave.
Man, I really, really wanted to save this for later! This sucks!
Her fist halted a few centimeters from his nose. Then, she took a step back, eyes dull.
A few moments later, Ryker gasped for breath and stumbled to his feet. "Stupid, bitch!" He spat between breaths. "If it weren't, for you! I could've, used that, back home!"
She stood there, unresistant, as he kicked her repeatedly in the shins.
It was as if she had turned into a puppet with all but her central string cut.
"Whatever," he hissed, standing upright and regaining his composure. He brushed his long, straight black hair behind one ear and dusted some sand off of his light leather armor.
She stood there as if waiting for instructions as he cleaned up his appearance.
The crowd had hushed significantly, but was now murmuring in both confusion and disapproval. The girl who had been dominating the fight suddenly gave up? It didn't make sense.
Ryker glanced up at them with a sly look in his eyes. Was it time for a dash of showmanship?
"Ladies and gentlemen, greetings!" He called to the stands, making grandiose gestures. "I apologize for showing you an unbecoming side of myself. It appears you have grown bored with the proceedings!"
A single voice responded, "Yeah! Why'd she stop fighting?"
Another, "Just kill each other already!"
Several more then chimed in with various shouts of agreement.
"As you wish!" Ryker boasted. "I shall now slay this upstart little brat!"
Now that I've glossed over how I did that, he thought, It's time for the finishing blow!
With a flourish, he retrieved his fallen sword and approached the stationary woman. Standing still like that, she seemed almost more like a mannequin than a person.
She might as well be one, actually, he chuckled to himself. Absolute Hypnosis is amazing!
He lifted her chin in his left hand. Smiling insincerely, he planted a kiss on her lips and, following his mental command, she kissed him back. They continued like that for a few seconds.
A ripple of whistles and hoots came from the stands. Apparently that had earned him some points with the audience.
What a shame I have to kill her. Oh, well. Avoiding death is also an acceptable way to use the Boon, I suppose. And at least it was a girl this time, if a bit… underdeveloped for my tastes.
Pushing away from her, he dramatically put his left hand to his forehead, palm out, as if distressed; then he gripped his claymore with both hands and plunged it into her heart. She cried out according to his mental instructions, acting like the betrayed heroine in some half-baked tragic play.
A spreading stain turned the sand red after she collapsed, twitching, as her life faded away.
The crowd sounded a mix of amused, enthusiastic, disappointed and hateful, but for the most part, they at least seemed entertained.
Ryker bowed proudly, proclaiming, "Remember this day, Ladies and Gentlemen, as the day the Storytelling Games' future Champion was almost defeated, but inevitably came out on top!"
Red eyes shining, Ryker basked in the audience's applause until a sleek, humanoid glass golem with some therapod-like features dragged him out of the arena.