Caesar stood in the small, squarish arena, alone. If he was to be perfectly honest, he was quite disappointed with his opponent"s sudden surrender. One of the main reasons he wanted to join the tournament in the first place was to showcase his personal strength, however, it was posing to be more difficult than he had initially thought.
The spectators that were looking forward to the match, could only sigh in disappointment and shift their attention elsewhere. This development caused Caesar to furrow his brows in aggravation, alas, there was nothing he could do besides waiting for the next match.
He sat cross-legged on the cold, stone floor and spectated the other matches. He had forgotten to ask for Falthor"s number, thus, he had to scan the entire training grounds to look for him. Thankfully, Falthor"s appearance was relatively easy to spot, and soon, Caesar laid eyes on a very tall man with long, wavy black hair.
He and another warrior were glaring at each other in the ring. His opponent was a thin man with very short brown hair, he had a defined jawline and relatively sharp facial features. From a spectators point of view, it appeared as though the brown-haired man and Falthor knew each other.
Whilst Caesar was in the middle of these thoughts, Falthor rushed towards the man with what appeared to be, an unmatched might. The ground cracked with every step he made and his hair seemed to float in the air. Falthor closed the distance between him and the brown-haired man within a matter of a few seconds, and soon, he raised his right fist and struck towards the man"s face.
The brown-haired man, who still maintained a calm expression, ducked down and dodged the right hook by the width of a hair. However, Father wasn"t finished yet, he lifted his left knee and without even giving the man time to react, he blasted him out of the arena.
Blood escaped from the brown-haired man"s nose and mouth as he flew through the air. Loud cheers reverberated throughout the training grounds and the referee raised Falthor"s right hand in response.
Seeing this, Caesar nodded his head in approval and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. Falthor was, indeed, doing as he had instructed, making his battles as flamboyant as possible. The only problem being, that Caesar had nothing to do until his next battle.
Caesar lazily swept his gaze across the training grounds and spectated a few boring fights to kill time. After waiting for about another half an hour, the second match was finally going to start and Caesar"s opponent slowly approached the small ring.
He had greasy, long black hair, a long face, and loose looking clothes. The man had an absurdly long tongue that rested outside of his mouth, causing Caesar to furrow his brows in disgust. To top it all off, he wielded two steel daggers.
The referee looked at the man"s sharp weapons hesitantly, "are you positive you won"t accidentally injure the opposing party?" the referee asked to which the man replied with a light chuckle.
"Don"t fret, I"m certain" He said while winking in Caesar"s direction.
The man entered into a well-trained fighting stance, placing one blade in front of the other while facing Caesar. If one looked closely, you would be able to faintly discern an almost inconspicuous liquid on the blades.
This caused Caesar to smile, and without notifying the referee, Caesar also entered into a fighting stance. Instead of using a weapon, he just raised his fists, there was no need to wield his scythe.
The referee glanced between Caesar and the wicked looking man for a few moments before reluctantly raising his hands and roaring, "BEGIN!"
Although the referee started the match, neither Caesar nor the sinister looking man moved. Instead, the man curled his lips and started speaking. "I can hardly wait until I win this tournament, I"m going to marry that beautiful empress and pop out dozens of kids, h.e.l.l, I won"t even let her rest at night. Don"t worry, I"m not a selfish person, I"ll let you and some of my other buddies have a turn too" the man said with a loud laugh.
Caesar"s expression didn"t contort in the slightest at the man"s words, he knew that getting riled up would be playing right into his hands. Thus, instead of answering with words, he would answer with actions.
He squinted his eyes and took a few steps forward, strolling towards the man, as if he was taking a walk in his garden. The sound of his feet hitting the ground became louder and louder as he got closer. Quite opposite to how Falthor dealt with his opponent, Caesar was moving gracefully.
Before anyone could even react, in the blink an eye, the slowly walking Caesar suddenly appeared in front of the man"s face. Like a shadow, Caesar"s knee stabbed into the man"s abdomen, making his ribs concave. However, as the man was about to fly out of the ring, Caesar grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the middle.
Once again, Caesar walked towards the currently kneeling man. His eyes were ghastly cold and his movements didn"t show a hint of hesitation. To the spectators, an intangible reddish aura appeared behind Caesar"s back.
This ominous presence innately brought fear to all of those that could sense, and see it, causing them to sweat profusely… even the clan heads had a reaction. This, however, wasn"t noticed by Caesar as he was currently focusing on the sc.u.m in front of him.
The man, who was holding his stomach in the middle of the arena, coughed up some blood. He raised his head toward the referee in an attempt to speak, alas, before his words could escape his mouth, Caesar reached him and raised his right leg, and as if he were kicking a soccer ball, he kicked him out of the arena.
The sound of cracking echoed out and it was clear that Caesar"s kick had shattered a few bones, this was, of course, intended. The referee at the side opened his eyes wide in surprise and wanted to immediately disqualify Caesar for unsportsmanlike conduct, however, before he got the chance, Caesar flung two daggers at his feet.
"Inspect the daggers, they have some sort of poison on them… that man had no intention of winning, he merely wanted to kill me" Caesar spoke coldly and his immense aura abruptly disappeared, causing all of those spectating to breathe a sigh of relief.
The referee gulped down a mouthful of saliva and nervously picked up the daggers by the handle. He rushed towards the table where Musashi and the other clan heads were present and they soon started inspecting the daggers.
Within the time it takes for an entire incense to burn, Musashi stood up from his chair and roared, "number 33 has been disqualified for the use of poison and shall be put in prison until further interrogation"
His orders caused waves of commotion and Ahri who was sitting to the right of Musashi furrowed her brows in anger. She couldn"t stand when others tried to harm the ones she loved, not to mention when they used underhanded methods such as poison.
"Father, you shouldn"t allow edged weapons…" Ahri spoke up after a brief moment of hesitation.
Musashi just shook his head in response while stroking his beard, "It"s fine... if I were to ban edged weapons, then I"m afraid that man wouldn"t have a chance at taking my spot" he replied whilst chuckling.
Ahri tilted her head in confusion, "what do you mean?" she asked, however, Musashi didn"t reply and instead, gestured towards the other matches.
Caesar"s lips curled at the sight of the man he had just practically kill being escorted to the prison cells. Thinking of prison, he felt as though he was forgetting someone. Caesar squinted his eyes for a moment before shaking his head, "I"ll think about these unnecessary thoughts later"
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Inside of a jail cell, an uncleaned, unshaven, human male was currently whispering out his grievances, "that d.a.m.ned Marshall forgot about me again… didn"t he…." Ronny whispered hatefully.