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“Then the match is over.” As Lady Inka stepped forward, both the wyrm and the chimp dropped all essence. “Let me help you before you return to the stands.”

White light fell out of Inka’s hand and landed on the small cut on the chimp’s arm. All at once, every morsel of tension in the chimp’s body vanished. The chimp’s softened mug expressed complete relief and relaxation for but a moment.

“There. Now you can go. Zelsh, you’ve won this round,” Inka stated with a cheerful smile.

Laughing, Zelsh waved to Shraal, “Sorry, but you chose wrong this time. Maybe your first seed could’ve managed the greater advantage in cultivation, but you were too careful to take the bet.”

“Then I’ll make sure to learn and remember this lesson...” Shraal sighed, smiling back at the humble chimp.

“Numbers 23 and 24, please.”

.....

The matches continued without pause or break. With only five matches left, the kings and contestants were eager to see the skills of those that remained. And while they weren’t quite as excited as before, they were all still curious to see why Zelsh was so confident in such a weak, human cultivator in the final fight.

Most remaining matches were made up of second or third seeds at this point. But apart from Brak, Shraal also had his first seed remaining, who soundly claimed victory in his final match against Fotain, the fourth and final king from Toxic-shadow Prefecture. Fotain’s second seed put up a good fight but fell in the end, all the same.

That final match didn’t creep up on anyone. It quickly came to pass while Oli was busy trying to scheme and strategize for his upcoming match. And knowing who Oli was up against, the gorilla-turned-human was more astute than ever.

“Numbers 31 and 32.”

Finally, the numbers were called.

Brak said nothing. He only laughed loudly as his nephew flapped his wings and landed squarely in the arena’s center. A mighty roar echoed out of the dragon’s mouth as he eyed his weak, human opponent.

Oli remained calm. Too calm. Nearby contestants felt that something was off about Oli as he stepped down into the arena, but the kings were all aware of the unique glint in Oli’s eyes.

“Has that boy fought a dragon before?” Jeminine whispered.

Shrugging, Zelsh whispered back, “No clue.”

Unsure why, Jeminine didn’t feel like Zelsh was telling the truth. None of the kings would’ve. They were all astounded by Oli’s commanding gaze, a gaze that no mid-adept human should have when facing an elder dragon.

It wasn’t malice or bloodlust. But it wasn’t fear or hesitation. Ill will wasn’t oozing from Oli’s eyes, unlike his draconic foe. Yet mercy didn’t seem like an option either. The peculiar stare that Oli showed the dragon was off-putting and left everyone curious about what was going through his mind.

“What’s your name?”

“Oliver. And yours?”

Licking his lips, the dragon chuckled and looked down on the human, “Consider it an honor. I, Drogat, don’t normally converse with prey. But you’re not allowed to be my prey today, so I’d prefer to leave a sound impression instead, and sharing my name is viable for such a thing.”

“So you have golden scales and a golden tongue... Is that a characteristic among all Razor-hide Dragons, or are you and your uncle outliers?”

Oli’s remark was dry and erred on the line of being personal. But it wasn’t too crude as to warrant killing intent, given the setting.

All the same, Drogat laughed and sharpened his gaze upon hearing Oli’s statement. “A human with a backbone... I like to see that. Breaking it should remind you to never speak down to me!”

“Try as you like,” Oli stated, nodding to the dragon and then to Lady Inka. “I’m ready.”

“Are you ready?”

“Of course!” chuckled Drogat. Standing more than five-krin tall, Dragot loosened his shoulders and prepared to pounce.

“Then you may begin.”

“I surrender.”

Before Drogat could summon his essence and push off the ground, before Oli could ready his earth and dark essence bestial forms or his soul arts, a calm, casual voice boomed throughout the colosseum.

“COWARD!!”

“This match is over. Brak, you and your nephew are the victors,” Inka claimed, pointing toward the golden dragon in front of her.

“Nonsense! There was no fight, nor did the boy even get a chance to say anything himself!” Brak argued.

Zelsh shrugged and kept his stare on Lady Inka. “I’m the challenger, not that boy. He’s merely my representative. If I’m not allowed to speak for the man that represents me, then what would it mean to be a king?”

“You two may return to your seats, if you’d like,” continued Lady Inka. “The thirty-minute intermission will now proceed as the representatives prepare for the second round.”

“Hmph... So much for earning even a morsel of respect...” Drogat scoffed at Oli, shaking his head.

But Oli blinked, baffled and confused on what to do or say next.

“Don’t worry, Oliver. In three years, so long as that trash is capable, you may get to face him eventually.” From the side, Kraz entered the arena and quickly reached Oli’s side. “Come. There’s no need to keep speaking to him.”

“Excuse me, but I–”

“Thank you.” Interrupting the dragon, Oli bowed to the large beast. “At least you’re more respectful than your uncle. And I’m sorry I wasn’t allowed to at least prove myself to you today. I’d appreciate a real fight in the future.”

Surprised, Drogat tilted his head in disbelief. “Hmm... So long as you’re actually strong, I wouldn’t mind an eventual match to prove my superiority. Don’t die...”

As the Dragon flapped his wings and left the arena, Kraz was somewhat stunned by that final exchange. He stared at Oli and shook his head with a laugh. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. But I was being honest. Testing myself against a dragon would be a great thing.”

“True... But I’m not sure you chose wisely. I’m sure you’ll be able to spar with a few dragons after visiting Nightscape City,” remarked Kraz, getting a subtle nod from Oli.