Arena

Gate slammed its stops as if hurled by an invisible giant’s hand. A little girl with dirty blonde hair stumbled out. The blue dress tattered about her shoulders. Spikes slammed back into the sand.

The audience hushed, no one dared utter a word.

“Father? They brought me here. Why did they bring me here?”

Kurl froze as she approached. A worn teddy bear dangled from her left hand as she rushed.

The audience watched the barefoot child stumble with her bear waving behind her. She twirled. The stuffed animal swished toward her father, only to get caught in a pocket of Zinnian.

Her eyes went wide, lip trembled slightly, “Father, it’s me! Zinnia! They brought me here and I’m scared-”

“Zinnia hates bears.”

The band of affinity vapor wrapped around her dainty neck, just enough to restrict breathing. The swinging bear dropped into the sand blade first. A dagger hilt wrapped in withered leather remained visible. The tattered dress swayed as her feet turned green. The vapor wrapped tighter, hair vanished as ears extended. A fat nosed goblin clawed at a pressurized ring of vapor so thick it felt solid. Mana flow gave it faint purple glow.

Kurl snarled at the goblin. A brilliant glow fulminated across the back of his neck, “You don’t require an affinity to use mana, so find a better use for it.”

Its eyes went wide. It snarled, spit against the compressing purple glow. A zinnian disc sliced through its neck. Kurl drained paler, regaining color as the ring vanished. The sigil on the back of his neck dimmed. The goblin’s head toppled separately from the body.

Kurl breathed heavier as he stared over the corpse. Eyes lingered before a satisfied smirk grew at the creature’s terrified snarl, wide eyes frozen open. He punted the head against the wall. It hit the high bricks with a cracking thud before wedging in the arena sands.

The audience gasped.

“Bring forth the muscle mage!” called the curator.

The gates rose. No one dared shove her into arena. A modestly tall woman, still shorter than Kurl’s burly six feet, entered. A sleeveless yellow inmates’ shirt displayed arms tight with muscle. Biceps bulged even at rest. The yellow prison pants stretched at her hips. The legs hung with loose fabric to tensing ankles. Toes clutched sand as her feet curled.

A shout broke the silence from the stands, “Kick his ass muscle mom!”

A reddish streak crossed her cheeks as her stomach growled audibly. She brushed back reddish-blonde hair that hung short. Freckles wrinkled over her brow. Decisive light tan eyes locked in.

Kurl raised his right eyebrow, “You look malnourished.”

Her shoulders flexed into a pop. Chest stretched against her shirt. Roxanne rubbed the back of her neck. Then she cracked her knuckles; the pops reverberated. A powder in her palm condensed into a crystal that dropped into her pocket. She gave it a gentle pat.

“Fight!”

The prison sigil on the back of her neck remained a dark gold tattoo, yet her body tensed too quickly for the untrained eye. Toes gripped the sand, bounced with uncanny efficiency. She darted left and attacked. A punch struck through multiple density ‘plates’ of zinnian. The vapor dispersed.

He stumbled backwards toward the bricks. The audience cheered. She closed for another punch. Kurl burst away under a jet of zinnian. Her fist hit the brick gently, before she’d risk injuring it.

Kurl concentrated zinnian around air passages. She staggered her breathing, took in his affinity without hesitation and blew heavy breaths while stepping backwards. Pressure bubbles were too dangerous. The mana flow gave his affinity a slight purple glow, a tell. A fanning motion with her left dispersed the zinnian, kept it from crowding life vapor. Her mana shield prevented him from controlling what she breathed in, but not what pressed from without.

“I’m not a goblin. No clever tricks Kurl, fight like a man!”

“How about you behave like a woman?”

“Do you want to come out of this alive?!”

Roxanne went in swinging. Biceps bulged. Fists swung within inches of breaking his nose.

“They had to put you up against me,” Kurl groaned, but she was breathing heavier. Every movement pushed against pressure bubbles maintained at the cost of the mana. His sigil glowed brighter, “I’m a vapor mage. You’re not going to end me! Don’t think I’ll sympathize just because you’re a-”

Her eyes glowed, “I don’t need sympathy from traitors!”

“We’re all here for-”

The wind knocked out of his lungs. Zinnian dissipated, sinking in the arena as he lost control. The glowing of his sigil ceased momentarily. His back struck the wall. He burst into a sprint, collected his element. It rushed back at her in the form of punches against her unarmored body, but the fist attacks weren’t the point.

Roxane remained on his tail and closed the distance, “You’re not hiding in the arena Kurl.”

“Who said anything about hiding?”

He faced the oncoming punch. A fist encased in pressurized zinnian cracked against defined abs that tightened further in response. A slight glow registered from behind. She was finally using her mana.

The glow intensified as her enhanced arm diverted from forehead to collar bone. A burst of zinnian pooling around his feet lifted him, letting him twirl. His shoulder struck bricks and he slid down the wall. Zinnian struck Roxanne in miniature bursts. Atmosphere snapped at her sides as she grimaced through the strikes. Her fists rained response. As the zinnian clung, and Kurl kept it clinging, her attacks slowed. The violet glow returned around her joints.

Her stomach grumbled.

Kurl dodged with multiple backward steps until he couldn’t anymore. A driving punch blasted through his compressed zinnian defense and struck him down. Yet her movement slowed despite the sudden glow at the back of her neck. Her breathing staggered. The knock-out attempt failed, he still controlled the zinnian in this arena.

Curling bands of high-pressure fronts wrapped her joints. Zinnian lumps filled to the brim with his mana hugged at the back of her knees. They pooled under her arms to lift her. Feet kicked, but failed to disperse the vapor. Without footing, strength meant little. Kurl remained staggered while the back of his neck glowed. Zinnian lifted Roxanne, gently, a much more sustained effort than any momentum-based attack. Kurl lifted himself on a pressurized pedestal.

“This is why vapor mages are hated,” was sighed from the stands.

“You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Grapple her in the air. How cheap. That would never work in a real battle. Not with material flying everywhere.”

While Roxane struggled to disperse his vapor, Kurl glanced angrily at the stands. The comment about battle struck a nerve. Why should he follow battlefield logic in the arena?

“Someone give her support, this is unfair!”

“Kurl!” she screamed, but it was useless. The gently glowing zinnian had her, “You filthy traitor!”

Kurl floated back down, sending his gathered reserve at the floating warrior. He struggled to maintain his mana. No matter how much mana she used to pump her muscles, the zinnian wouldn’t disperse.

Zinnian concentrated around her airways crowded out life gas. Roxane screamed, punched at the air. Her neck tensed as she took forceful breaths against the affinity mismatch. A crystal ripped through her pocket and struck his shoulder. Blood seeped through his shirt.

It should have struck his forehead. Just about everything he had access to was floating her and suffocating. His expression soured, eyes moistened. Roxanne was too kind for her own good.

She passed out, eyes slipping back. Yet even unconscious, her mana shielding sustained itself. She flopped supine over the sand. Drool trickled from her lips.

The match curator bellowed from above, “What is to be done with the defeated muscle mage? Have they shown worthwhile potential?”

Hands came out of the shadows, thumbs to the side.