And Bodok was to fight him.
Jarsuvius was calm and relaxed where Navaris had been hyped up and aggressive. This man had the bearing of a warrior. A seasoned one at that. And that meant he would be far more dangerous.
“And you already know his challenger,” the announcer continued. “A cowardly piece of work who needs no introduction. Bodok!”
The blue-skinned man slowly walked out of the tunnel into the arena where he was met with boos raining down from above. Bodok ignored them, his attention on the woman standing quietly at her station in the nearby luxury box.
“Dear friends,” the announcer continued, “this is what you have been waiting for. And yes, you heard right. Our final match of the night will be a bout to the death!”
At this the crowd lost its collective mind, screaming in a unified roar of bloodthirsty excitement. Bodok scanned the crowd, surveying the people so ready and anxious for his demise.
He looked over at his opponent. Jarsuvius was also studying the spectators quietly, a look of tranquility on his face. He turned to face Bodok, locking eyes in a firm gaze that was intense, but not hate-filled. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it. That was all there was to this, nothing more. Bodok nodded slightly, acknowledging the situation.
Then all hell broke loose.
Jarsuvius moved fast for his size, closing the distance in a flash. But as Bodok pivoted aside, ready to defend himself, the four-armed man pulled up short, stopping his attack.
He began moving in a circular pattern, his feet shifting in unpredictable stride, sometimes short, others fast, sometimes quick, others slow. Bodok did his best to match him, keeping a safe distance from his powerful arms.
Jarsuvius was good at keeping his body neutral, not telegraphing his moves. Very good. But even the best sometimes had tells, and he was no exception. His secondary arms flexed ever so slightly even as his upper body signaled an entirely different movement.
Bodok jumped aside just as the smaller arms shot out, their reach much longer than he’d expected. He batted them away, just barely managing to stay out of the purple man’s grasp.
Jarsuvius nodded slightly at his opponent and let out an amused chuckle, picking up the speed of his dizzying footwork. Bodok found himself struggling to keep up, knowing if he faltered he would wind up in the man’s grip. And with four arms to grab him with, if that happened the fight would be over.
The two men circled one another, Jarsuvius trying to get close to his opponent while Bodok dodged and avoided, wanting nothing to do with him. It was cat and mouse and after a few minutes of it the crowd was starting to get antsy.
The announcer read the vibe in the air and took action before the audience could slide into mass anger. He waved to the weapons handlers who once again hollered out loud as they hurled weapons into the arena.
Unlike last time, however, some of these had blades.
Swords, daggers, a spear, and even what looked like a dual-edged battle axe were scattered about, as well as a variety of clubs, sticks, and fighting staffs.
Jarsuvius grinned then turned from Bodok, running to snatch up a pair of short swords, one for each of his smaller arms. He shifted course and then grabbed and a club and a spear for each of his larger ones.
Bodok picked up a single staff, the audience laughing at his foolish choice.
“Get him!” someone yelled, their voice soon joined by many other similar sentiments.
Jarsuvius spun his weapons with deadly precision and began advancing on his opponent. His spear shot out in a lunging attack. Bodok parried it, blocking it aside and whipping his staff back just in time to deflect the two swords.
The club swung through the air with a loud whistle. This guy was strong. So strong he could move the heavy weapon with ease. Bodok knew better than to meet that sort of attack head-on.
He leaned back then dove aside, rolling out of the way and back onto his feet. The crowd cheered. This was more like it. Finally, they were getting a real fight. Unfortunately for Bodok, they were not cheering for him.
“Oh, look. He tries to defend himself against the contender,” Mistress Tormik said with a cool chuckle. “This should not take long.”
Maureen held her tongue, but her runes flared with her overflowing anger. Back on Earth she would have cracked the woman across the face, consequences be damned. A night in jail would totally be worth it.
But here was a different story. This was their city, and if she so much as laid a finger on one of the ruling elites, Maureen would be finding herself in a far worse situation than she could ever have imagined.
Her anger was quickly defused, replaced by concern when a flurry of action drew her attention to the arena floor. Jarsuvius was windmilling his arms, charging at Bodok, blades a-flying.
The blue man spun his staff as fast as he could, deflecting most of the blows. But some landed nonetheless. Nothing serious, but first blood had been drawn and the crowd went wild.
Jarsuvius pulled back, his chest heaving from the effort. He had more arms, yes, but he also was expending a lot of energy chasing an opponent who seemed content to remain on the defensive. That had to change.
He ran forward, throwing his spear rather than lunging with it. Bodok jumped aside, surprised by the tactic. It was exactly what Jarsuvius had hoped for. With a pair of hands now free, he managed to grab Bodok’s wrist just as the blue-skinned man slammed his staff hard against the two swords in his opponent’s smaller arms, pinning them against Jarsuvius’s body, preventing him from stabbing or slicing.
