A menu materialised before Zafron's eyes:
[Heart rate increased]
[Qi output dangerously high]
[Berserker mode activated ]
Zafron's vision began to swim but through it all, his eyes continued searching for Matilda. But he couldn't see her, which caused his blood to run cold. She wasn't where he'd last seen her. Instead, she stood near the edge of the arena, and beside her...
Zafron's eyes narrowed as he recognized the figure next to Matilda. The Governor. Anger bubbled up inside him, threatening to overtake even the Berserker Mode's influence.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Zafron growled, his fists clenching at his sides.
[Oh lovely, another complication. Shall we add a rampaging herd of elephants to really spice things up?] Calista quipped.
Near the edge of the arena, Matilda struggled to maintain her composure as the Governor stood uncomfortably close.
"I'm a bit surprised to see you here," she hissed, trying to keep her voice low despite her rising anger. "Your place is at the high table with the big guns, not down here Sir."
The Governor's smile never wavered, but a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. "I simply wanted to say hello, my dear. And I couldn't help but notice you're not wearing the necklace I gave you."
Matilda's jaw clenched. "I'm sorry, I mean no disrespect governor, but as you may know, this is a fighting pit, not a gala. Jewelry isn't exactly appropriate attire."
"Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more... private?" the Governor suggested, his hand moving to rest on Matilda's arm.
She jerked away, her composure finally cracking. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say," she snapped. "I have a fight to watch. One that actually matters."
Despite her clear dismissal, the Governor made no move to leave. Instead, he settled in beside her, flashing her smiles that spread ear to ear.
Matilda turned her attention back to the arena, doing her best to ignore the man beside her. But she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on her, or the growing knot of dread in her stomach.
A surge of raw power coursed through Zafron's veins, setting every nerve ending ablaze. Strength he didn't know he possessed flooded his system, banishing the weakness that had threatened to consume him moments ago.
The slime that had been fading from his body roared back to life, coating him in a layer of protection that seemed to glow with an otherworldly, dark reddish hue.
The Butcher, noticing the sudden change in his opponent, raised his massive fist. With a snarl of rage, he brought it down on Zafron's face with bone-crushing force. The impact shattered the ground beneath them, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the arena floor.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, many spectators covering their eyes, certain they had just witnessed Zafron's demise.
But when the dust settled, Zafron was still there, staring up at the Butcher with a wild grin that sent chills down the spines of even the most hardened onlookers.
"You'll have to do better than that to finish me off," Zafron spat, blood and saliva mixing with the arena dust as a slime mask dissolved from his face. It was what had saved him from the initial blow, but the sheer force had drawn blood however.
[I must say, my lord, your talent for witty repartee while being pummeled is truly impressive,] Calista remarked dryly.
The Butcher's eyes widened in disbelief. He raised the gauntlet, readying another devastating blow. But this time, Zafron was faster.
With lightning-quick reflexes, Zafron's hand shot up, catching the Butcher's massive fist mid-swing. The crowd fell silent, stunned by this impossible feat of strength.
"My turn," Zafron growled.
His other fist, encased in dark red slime, connected with the Butcher's jaw. The impact resonated through the arena like a thunderclap.
The Butcher's massive frame lifted off the ground, propelled backward by a force that defied explanation.
The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and gasps as the Butcher's body sailed through the air, crashing into the far wall of the arena with a sickening crunch.
"Holy shit," Sakura breathed, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Where the hell did that come from?"
Draco, who had been watching from the sidelines with smug confidence, felt the blood drain from his face. "Impossible," he muttered, his hands clenching into fists.
Without missing a beat, Zafron sprinted towards the Butcher's prone form, his body moving with a speed and grace that seemed inhuman.
His leg, now entirely encased in hardened red slime, connected with the Butcher's chest in a devastating kick.
The impact sent the larger man sliding across the ground, leaving a deep furrow in the arena floor. The crowd's roar reached a fever pitch, many spectators on their feet, unable to believe what they were witnessing.
"Slimy!!!...slimy!!!" They all began to chant, quickly turning their backs on their favourites moments ago. A few in the crowd watched with a bullets of sweat dropping from their body as they realized their man whom they bet on was getting his ass kicked!
[I hate to be the voice of reason in this little bout of superhuman violence,] Calista chimed in, [but perhaps we should consider the long-term effects of this 'Berserker Mode' on your admittedly impressive physique?]
Zafron barely registered Calista's words, his focus entirely on his opponent.
The Butcher, using his blade-arm as leverage, halted his slide and sprang back to his feet with surprising agility for a man his size.
Rage burned in the Butcher's eyes as he glared at Zafron, his metallic jaw working furiously. "What the hell are you?" he snarled, genuine fear creeping into his voice for the first time.
Draco, his face contorted with frustration, shouted from the sidelines. "What are you waiting for? Use the damn crystal like I showed you!"
The Butcher's response was a growl of annoyance. "I did use it! Something's wrong. It's like... it's like it made him stronger instead of weaker!"
As Draco and the Butcher argued, a new menu flashed before Zafron's eyes:
[Warning : Qi depleted]
[My lord, it appears you are using way more Qi than usual, must be the effect this place has on people. At this rate, by my calculations...I'm afraid you haven't got too long before berserker mode deactivates'
'How long!!!'
[Berserker mode will last for 4:58 secs]
[4:56 secs]
[....]
"Five minutes? The last time this happened it lasted longer, I'm sure," Zafron muttered to himself. "That should be more than enough time to finish this,"
He charged at the Butcher, his fist encased in a protrusion of hardened red slime.
The Butcher blocked the blow, the impact sending shockwaves through both combatants. Without missing a beat, the larger man countered with a downward strike that would have split a lesser opponent in two.
Zafron's slime armor expanded, forming a shield that caught the blow. The force of the impact drove Zafron to one knee, the ground beneath him cracking under the pressure.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zafron surged upward, driving his fist into the Butcher's midsection with every ounce of strength he could muster.
The blow lifted the Butcher off his feet, sending him flying across the arena. He crashed into the wall with such force that the entire structure shook, raining debris down on the stunned spectators.
"That's more like it!" Sakura shouted from the sidelines, her earlier shock replaced by fierce pride.
Draco, his face purple with rage, screamed at the Butcher. "Stop playing around! Finish him off already! It's been almost ten minutes!"
The Butcher pulled himself from the wreckage of the wall, his eyes blazing with fury. "If you think this is a game, why don't you come down here and try it yourself?" he roared back. "Something's wrong with your precious crystal. It's not working!"
Zafron, catching his breath in the momentary lull, found himself wondering what the Butcher was made of.
The punch he'd just delivered should have been enough to fell a charging rhino, yet his opponent was still standing, seemingly more angry than hurt.
[Perhaps he's actually a very life-like punching bag?] Calista suggested.
Before Zafron could formulate a response, the Butcher ripped the gauntlet from his hand and hurled it at Draco. "Take your useless trinket!" he snarled. "I'll finish this with my bare hands!"
Just as the Butcher took a menacing step towards Zafron, the match official's voice rang out across the arena. "Ten minutes have elapsed! The match now enters free-for-all status!"
A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd. This was what many had been waiting for - the chance to see multiple combatants face off in a no-holds-barred brawl.
Sakura vaulted over the barrier, landing gracefully beside Zafron. "Not bad, rookie," she said with a grin. "Didn't think you'd last this long. Ready for round two?"
As Zafron and Sakura prepared to face the Butcher together, somewhere at the top side of the fighting pit, several well-dressed men sat there, their expressions were a mixture of boredom and mild interest. One could say they they were a little bourgeois.
One man, his bearing regal despite his relaxed posture, raised a hand. Immediately, a figure materialized at his side, bowing low.
"Who is this new fighter?" the man asked, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
"He goes by the name Zafron, Lord Raxus," the attendant replied, his tone respectful.
Raxus leaned back, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 'Interesting. A newcomer who managed to survive the initial ten minutes against the Butcher. Most impressive.'
His eyes narrowed as he watched Zafron and Sakura square off against their massive opponent. 'Let's see how he fares in the free-for-all. This could be... entertaining.'