Bout at the Rowdy Goat

The roaring of the crowd rattled my bones as it echoed through the small tunnel I had been led down. As I listened to their cheers calling for blood, I remembered the rules the attendee had briefly explained when I signed up. They detailed how most things were allowed in the upcoming fight, but of course, there were a few exceptions to ensure the contestants' safety. 

Firstly, this was not a fight to the death. The goal of the bout was to pummel the opponent into unconsciousness and for them to stay that way for ten seconds. That said, if they surrendered at any point and I ignored it, or attempted to go further after they were down, I would be disqualified. Next, this fight was a bare-knuckle brawl, meaning no swords, staves, or weapons meant to draw blood. Luckily, magical support items were allowed, including my wrappings, bangle and shoes. Finally, the use of magic was frowned upon in our particular fight. Support spells would get a warning for the first use and result in disqualification if they were activated a second time. Offensive magic, like fireballs or lightning, was strictly prohibited.

“And for our sixteenth bout this evening!" The announcer spoke, his voice booming over the crowd's and further rattling my teeth as it echoed through the tunnel. "Standing in this corner—"

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I had fought dragons, nozis, giant flying meatballs, and towering statues. But this time felt different. In each of those fights, I had my allies at my side. Friends to lean on when things got hairy. But this time, I was alone. This time it was up to me to defeat the foe standing before me.

"At a height of five feet eight, weighing in at a hundred and thirty-five pounds," I felt the referee who stood beside me grip my shoulder with his gloved hand. "A newcomer to the arena. Give it up for ‘The Ruu-BEEEEE Orrrrrrr-UH-COOOOOL!’”

With a shove, the referee pushed me towards the exit, where I emerged into the blinding light of the arena. The nerves I had been feeling suddenly seemed small in comparison to the overwhelming anxiety I experienced standing before thousands of onlookers. As I marched towards the ring, a couple of polite cheers from the arena greeted me, with one particular group of cries echoing louder than the rest, drawing my head towards them. 

There, in the section I had left them, Rionriv, Aesandoral, and Sharzin were stepping back into their seats and cheering wildly. The triops voices were being magically enhanced by Rionriv, with one voice in particular coming through more clearly than the rest. Aesandoral screamed my way wildly, her words slightly slurred by drink, and her spirits elevated by being at a sporting event. 

Those absolute maniacs. I thought, giving them a wave as I stepped between the ropes and got into position. Good to know that blood sports are Aes's kink—I guess.

“Aaaaaand in this corner," The announcer continued excitedly. "Standing at six foot seven, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-five pounds, the fifth time returning novice champion, 'JACK the Hamm-EEEEEERRRRRRRR!’”

The crowd immediately went wild as, approaching from the opposite pit, was a man who was much larger up close than he had appeared from the nosebleeds. The tall, heavily muscular, Slavic-looking goliath had enough hair on his chest to be confused with a werebear. He was sporting a high blond flattop haircut and a glorious set of mutton chops to match. Finally reaching the ring, he stepped through the ropes and presented his bare, broad-shouldered form to me before knocking his knuckles together.

This does not seem like a fair match-up! I thought as I craned my neck to look up at the guy I was fighting. He'd give Stoney Balbosa a run for his money! I have not run up enough stairs to take this guy on!

“Get your final bets in, folks.” The announcer called out, his voice being drowned out by the cheers for Jack.

Ordered back to my corner, I was offered a piece of wood with leather wrapped around it to bite down on. Briefly looking at the toothy indents and blood-stained surface, I shot the referee an incredulous glance. With a shake of my head, I turned down the offering before tightening the wrist wraps around my hands.

Shifting my gaze over to my competitor, I watched as he withdrew the equivalent of a magical permanent marker and scribbled something onto his fist. For all I knew, he was temporarily tattooing 'THUG LIFE' on his knuckles, but judging from the light that glowed as a result of the ink, I could only imagine it spelled trouble. Next, he slipped a golden grill with extended canines into his mouth. Moving it around, he looked my way, flashing his blinged-out smile before snarling, his eyes now glowing fiery golden-orange.

Oh...fug...

“And with that, let the bout COMMENCE!” The announcer called out, and before anything else could be said, the bell rang three times.

Like the ding of a dinner bell, the monster of a bruiser approached, his form moving like a ravenous wild animal. Glowing eyes shifted, taking in my form before locking on my chest. All it took the beast was five steps to clear the ring, his overwhelming size barreling down on me. Before I could act, the meaty fist was in the air and swinging towards my solar plexus with lightning speed.

Slipping into a defensive stance out of pure reflex, I caught the blow with my forearms. But the sheer force of the strike, hitting me with the power of three impacts at once, threw me back against the ropes. Immediately, another strike targeting the same spot met its mark, the knuckle tattoos flaring as the fist blurred and impacted my forearm like a trio of strikes from a hammer drill.

"Holy shit—GYAAH!" I coughed as I felt something in my arm crack under the force of his strike.

Then, with my back forced against the ropes, another flurry of blows came from the side. I knew that if I allowed a single one of the strikes from the power tool of a pugilist to land, it would be immediate game over for me. After all, he was now targeting my ribs, which would most certainly break under the strain of his impactful assault. So, with a sidestep, I hoped the judges wouldn't notice me using magic to sense the trajectory of his lead hook. Then, as I moved, I slapped at the man's meaty paw, redirecting it past me as I weasled my way behind the brawler. 

No whistle blew. No cries of deceit. No warning cards thrown. The magic I had used to deflect his blow was acceptable. At least it was to the judges. Jack, on the other hand, quickly turned to face me, revealing a murderous rage in the glowing gaze of his eyes.

Oh, my Gods! I thought as I hopped backwards towards the center of the ring. This guy wants me dead. Is this one of those times when I should use all my strength? If I accidentally kill him, is that still a D-Q?

But debating how much power I was allowed to channel into my fist was the wrong move. In the time it took me to have those few thoughts, he was already upon me once again, this time delivering a powerful haymaker to my head. Sensing the strike with my magic in the moments before impact, I dodged to the side. I rolled against the mat before bouncing up to my feet and looking his way.

The beast was already in pursuit of me. He wildly swung again and again, to which I responded with a bob and a weave. It would appear there was no shaking the brute and his hunger for violence. Slowly being pushed closer to the ropes, I knew that I would eventually run out of time. After all, I could already tell his speed was increasing by the second, strikes becoming more powerful, getting closer and closer, even with my magical barrier. It felt as though we were both reading each other's moves.

Then, suddenly, he pulled his punch and gave me a strong kick to the ribs.

“Gyaah!” I coughed, spitting out blood over the mat as my sidestep was thwarted in the moments before a hard hit connected with my face. “Ouf!”

I tumbled across the ring, connecting with one of the corner posts. As I collided with the wooden beam, my head cracked backward, and the world went dark. But then, in an instant, I was back with a gasp of air filling my lungs. A jolt of energy coursed through my veins, like a fiery electricity igniting first in my chest before surging through every nerve of my body.

What in the twelve-hour energy just happened? I thought, listening as the crowd cheered wildly for the favoured winner. 

From the floor, I pivoted my head and looked the barbarian's way to see him basking in the glory. Throwing his arms up in service to the crowd, he looked my way and noticed that I was still conscious. A scowl grew as he cracked his knuckles and twisted his neck. 

The bruiser began to charge, his heavy steps rattling the ring with each powerful stomp. He was almost upon me, just one more step, and he would be in striking range. That was when I heard them. Two voices cutting through the roar of the crowd, magically enhanced to be louder than the rest.

“Let’s go Iz!” Aesandoral screamed. “I believe in you! You can do it!”

“Ruby Oracle!” Rionriv cheered just as wildly. “Go all out!”

My heart swelled at their voices. Their support was more than enough to fuel me to continue in this fight. If not for me. For them. I wouldn't let the triop down. I wouldn't let my friends down.

At the last possible moment, I bounced to my feet, driving a powerful uppercut towards the cavern's ceiling. Magic filled my wrappings, burgundy light glowing as I firmly connected with the man's chin, knocking his head back and halting his approach. Taking advantage of his brief daze, I tumbled around his side where I delivered two quick kidney shots before pooling a little magic into one of my palms. With a heavy swing, I cupped a hand and connected it to the brawler’s ear. A loud pop echoed from the strike, reverberating through the cavernous stadium and eliciting a thunderous gasp from the crowd. 

Taking my small victory and not wanting to push my luck, I hopped back from the beast, setting myself up in a defensive posture while watching as my opponent momentarily wobbled. As I did this, I briefly glanced up at the arena. The crowd had mixed emotions at this sudden turn of events. The few who had chosen to bet on me began to cheer and, though of the minority, Aesandoral and Rionriv were still the loudest by far. In true sporting-event fashion, they had even attempted to start a cheer. 

"Or! Uh! Cool!" I could hear their voices echoing out over the space as a few others began to join in. "OR! UH! COOL!"

I couldn’t help but smile at the sounds of voices cheering for me. My chest swelled at the chants as I took a moment to look towards Section Thirteen and my companions. Locking eyes with their distant forms, I nodded towards them. I was going to win this.

By the time I had focused once more on the fight at hand, the brute had already begun to stabilize himself, adjusting his glowing gaze to look at me. But it was too late for him. I had set off immediately, launching forward, my arm cocked back, and charged with a little extra magic. Connecting firmly with the goliath's nose, I watched as his head rocked backwards, splashing blood over me. The cheers of the crowd had instilled within me a confidence that had taken hold of my mind as I prepared a second strike. My goal now was to end this match quickly and get to the after-party.

But that was when I remembered a biblical quote from my childhood. Like a flash of my past, it appeared in my mind. It was something from the Old Book, a quote about how pride came before the fall. It had been a reminder of how overconfidence could lead to a person's downfall.

In an instant, the bruiser caught my hand, squeezing hard enough for something to break.

"Gyaah!" I screamed out as he continued, twisting my arm to the side, cracking something else. "GYYAAAAAHHHH!"

He had caught me off guard, my own pride and overconfidence having gotten the better of me in that moment. And, as I struggled against the agonizing pain, he took me by the chest and threw me down to the ring. Blood sprayed up from my mouth, painting my face as I felt his weight press down against my hips. Sitting atop me, the barbarian raised a fist high above and primed it to strike.

"Surrender." He spoke through the gilded grill. "And I do not rearrange pretty face."

I have a choice to make here... I thought, looking up at the man's snarling expression.

"Fuggin' eat me," I responded, spitting my bloody saliva on his face. "Borris—"

In retrospect, I could have handled the situation better. What followed was a pummeling the likes of which I had never experienced in either life. With one forceful blow after the other, the one-man construction crew laid into me while I was pinned to the mat. As this happened, I realized why they called him Jack the Hammer, and it wasn’t the bulge in his pants that grew as he pounded me into ruby paste. His name came from the way each strike against me was enhanced by his knuckle tattoos. Three blows landed with every single punch. Left, right, and left again, his hooks spraying my blood across the mat. As promised, I indeed felt my face rearranging. Nose, cheeks, jaw, eyesockets—my brain rattled and scrambled.

But the strangest thing happened in this moment. With every strike that hit me in the face, knocking my head back against the floor, and momentarily knocking me out, I bounced back. Every time, before the darkness could take me, I felt the same fiery electricity from before settle in my chest and snap me back to consciousness. At one point, reaching a hand up to stop the strikes, the brute took it by the wrist and held it aloft as he continued his assault. It was then that I saw it.

Affixed to my wrist was the same bangle I had recently purchased, though its design had suddenly changed. No longer simply a golden bracelet with a ruby attached, the smooth, polished metal had become engraved with intricate runes and designs. The raw ruby that dangled freely now appeared to be more polished and was set in a golden filigree that twisted around it in a triple helix. More than that, with each strike and blackout, I came back to realize that the stone glowed the faintest ruby red the moment that I regained consciousness.

Is this thing keeping me awake?

It was indeed a nifty item for someone who, like me, spent plenty of time in the void. Well worth the exorbitant cost, even when on sale. Though I couldn't help but wonder if, in this moment, it had become more of a curse than a blessing.

By the twentieth or thirtieth attempt to pummel me into unconsciousness, I was beginning to notice that the bruiser was growing tired. The glow in his eyes from the magical grill had faded, and the marked-up tattoos on his knuckles had begun to wear off. With his magic waning, it was now or never for me to act. 

Before the next strike landed, I took advantage of the mess of blood around me and slipped out from under him. Channelling my magic into my broken arm and hand, I jumped onto the exhausted beast's back and put him into a firm chokehold. In a panic, he reached his hands towards me, grabbing at my back. But the combination of my blood-slicked body and his roided-out form made it impossible for him to take hold of me.

“Go to sleep,” I gargled through my bloodied mouth and broken jaw. “G-go to sleep. Go to sleep. Time to sleep. That’s it. Sleep. Sleeep. Sleeeeeeeep—”

After a minute, the struggle began to slow. Two minutes passed as the crowd grew silent, watching as the goliath fell to his knees. And finally, as we neared the three-minute mark, and the glimmer of arcane light faded from his eyes, he tumbled forward with me still hanging onto his back. 

A moment of shocked silence befell the stadium before the bell rang three times, finally marking the end of the ten-minute matchup.

“W-We have a winner!” The announcer cheered, stepping back into the ring and pulling me off of the unconscious bruiser before lifting my arm to the crowd. “The Ruby Oracle!”

With that, the cavern erupted in cheers. Cheers for me and my victory over the monster of a man.  And, even though I was barely grasping at consciousness by this point, the sounds of the cheers were beautiful and intoxicating. I could hear Rionriv and Aesandoral screaming wildly before starting their cheer once more, this time the entire stadium booming in unified excitement.

“Or-uh-cool! Or-uh-cool! Or-uh-cool!”

I stumbled forward drunkenly, stepping away from the announcer as I pumped a single fist up victoriously. Opening my mouth to speak, I did my best to yell through my rearranged face.

“I get knocked down, I get up again—you’re never going to keep me down!” I tried to announce.

Unfortunately, now that I was no longer in the midst of combat, I was quickly losing consciousness. I could have yelled out 'Chompawompa' for all I knew because, a moment later, I was taken by darkness.