Chapter 283: Chapter 254 – A Proud Teacher

"I think the most gratifying thing that kept me being a teacher was when you get to witness the growth of the students you trained with your own eyes, knowing all the while that you had helped guide them to where they are now.

 

A satisfaction of having helped others realize their potential, to make the most of their lives." - Celeysria Ambervale, the Blood Demon of Al-Shan, circa 691 FP.

"And there we have it folks! Our undercity's own flower of a prizefighter, miss Florian, has notched the fifth win on her belt as she ended the Slavering Maw's streak of three wins!" said the enthusiastic announcer. His voice boomed across the structure, amplified and clarified by magic such that it was audible and loud, yet never too loud for anyone. "She had not come out unscathed for that hard-earned win, but have no worries, our team of trained healers are already on the job."

 

Cal looked over to where the mermaid had collapsed soon after she climbed out of the pool. A team of healers had quickly gone to work on her injuries, which leaked greyish-blue blood now that she failed to keep them suppressed.

 

The arena had grown festive after the fight. As usual, vendors and hawkers walked around the aisles and sold their wares - mostly foods and beverages - during the interlude between two fights. Cal and her group bought some to snack on as a hawker passed by their seats.

 

As was standard in any dwarven city, the ale sold from the barrels said hawkers carried on their shoulders were of excellent quality. The snacks sold by a hawker who looked like he was the lovechild of a dwarf and a goblin - and likely literally was one - were something new.

 

They were oval-shaped balls of sticky rice around as long as an adult's palm was wide. When Cal popped one into her mouth, whole, like the hawker suggested, and bit into it, the plain flavors of the sticky rice was quickly overridden by the savoriness of coconut milk and the juicy sweetness of the slices of tropical fruit within, while the rice gave it a nicely chewy, sticky mouthfeel.

 

"And now for the second fight of this eventful night! Enter the challenger! Sire Ognar of clan Bloodtooth hailed from the Union, a young blood mage eager to test his mettle in our grand arena!" said the announcer with his usual boisterousness.

 

From the walkway just above the water surface, Ognar walked out with sure steps. He was clad only in his loincloth and only carried his hammer in hand. Cal had allowed her students to use only their weaons for this, though their armor would be more of a handicap underwater anyway. He raises his hammer high, which made the spectators cheer, then plunged into the water and entered the cage.

 

"And for his opponent! Please welcome Arecon the Bulwark! A longtime veteran of the arena, with a record of seven wins, two of which ended in fatalities and fourteen draws! Could our young contender breach the Bulwark's mighty shell!?" added the announcer as a sea monster swam through the underwater pathway and into the cage in a leisurely way.

 

The beast Ognar had chosen to fight was a massive snapping turtle, one which measured at least four meters across and half again as long. Its head and fins were marred with many scars, and its vicious beak was chipped at several places. The massive shell on its back bore the scars of many battles, without a single breach visible.

 

Once the beast saw Ognar, it swam at a speed that belied its previous leisurely pace, as it barreled straight at him rapidly. Ognar managed to swim out of the way, if barely, before he reoriented himself and kept an eye at the turtle as it turned around and went for another charge.

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He tried to swing his hammer at the charging turtle as it came at him once more, but it bounced off without damaging the beast, as he was unable to get much force into the swing while he swam. The beast's fin clipped him by the side, but he ignored the impact that would have broken bones on most people, his tempered, reinforced body too tough to be so easily broken.

 

For a good five minutes they fought in such a way, with neither combatant suceeding to deal any meaningful damage to each other. Ognar surfaced - the topmost side of the cage was right at the water level, which allowed combatants to take a breath there, should they be unable to breather underwater - and took a deep breath, before he dove back into the fray.

 

With his blood magic and training, he could have stayed underwater for a few hours without much issue, but he took the breather as a chance to regain his thought on the fight. They were going nowhere, so he needed to try something new.

 

An idea came to him as the turtle charged him once more. He swam to the side this time, rather than above or below to fully avoid the charge. It brought him out of reach of the turtle's snapping beak, but the edge of the beast's shell struck his chest head on.

 

Ognar felt how many of his ribs broke apart, and his breastbone shattered. Some of the broken ribs even pierced into his lungs. He ignored it all, as his blood magic circulated and prevented the otherwise catasthrophic damage from affecting him much.

 

His fingers grasped a shallow groove on the turtle's shell, made by a previous dighter, while his right hand drove the backside of his warhammer - he used to use one that looked like a maul or sledgehammer, but had switched to one with a pick-like backside on Cal's advice - shallowly into the beast's sturdy shell.

 

Then with both arms he hauled himself atop the turtle's shell even as the beast tried to buck him off. He held on with one hand on the edge of the shell, and his legs graced on grooves and other old blemishes on the shell.

 

His right hand rose, with his warhammer firmly grasped, and his muscles explosively drove its hammerhead into the sturdy shell of the beast repeatedly, where every blow caused a new, shallow gouge or chips of shell to fly off the turtle's back.

 

It was hard work even so. His reinforced muscles might have allowed him to mostky ignore the water's resistance, but the turtle had a truly hard shell. It took him over twenty minutes of hard work despite how he struck at an old scar right where two plates met before he finally broke through the shell.

 

When his first blow struck into the flesh below, the turtle seemed to bellow in pain, and bucked much more furiously than ever before. Ognar was caught off guard and thrown off its back. By the time he reoriented himself, he saw how the beast had swam back into the caged passage it came from, trailing blood from the wound on its back.

 

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