Chapter Text
"It'sa me-"
"MARIO!!" The crowd roared as Mario made his entrance and shouted along with the [Heroic Plumber].
Mario waved to them as he strolled past the gate and into the arena. His [Background Music] and [Theme Song] Skills activated, the music barely heard under the cheering. It wasn't quite a spectacular entrance as something like a professional wrestler could pull off, but it was close.
That also was a pretty apt comparison. Being a gladiator meant giving a good show and not seriously injuring his opponents - even if he wasn't a [Gladiator].
That meant no head stomps.
At least until he took his opposition's measure and figured out if they could handle it. The [Gladiator] that emerged from the tunnel at the other end looked like they might be tough enough. He was a Stringfolk. Hemp, of course, and he was easily seven feet tall.
Razkar.
The [Berserker].
The Champion of the Arena of Spectacle.
There were a LOT of Arenas in Nerrhavia's Fallen. Of those, the best ones were in Tyrant's Rest - its capital. A smaller number, but still easily a dozen or so. The Arena of Spectacle was one of the higher rated arenas, third or forth compared to Mario's goal: the Coliseum of Monarchs.
That was the main arena. The place where actual [Monarchs] sometimes attended. The other arenas in the city were essentially feeders into it. If you did well enough in them, then you could move up to the big leagues. Conversely, if you did poorly in the Coliseum of Monarchs, then you tended to get kicked out. Most [Gladiators] that were champions of these smaller arenas were exactly that: newcomers that had risen up through the ranks, made it to the Coliseum of Monarchs, and then got sent packing.
They ruled their own little fiefdoms and were essentially the gatekeeper to other aspiring Gladiators - like Mario.
That's what had happened to Razkar from what he understood. That didn't mean he wasn't talented or tough, the Arena of Spectacle was famous in its own right. It was known for having one-on-one duels instead of the mass battles, or fights against animals, or having to dodge traps while you fought, or any of the other gimmicks that an arena used to separate itself from the crowd.
That wasn't to say that Razkar was low-level, or that he couldn't have continued to compete in the Coliseum of Monarchs. It just meant that he didn't have that 'it' factor. That superstar quality that drew in the crowds. He still had his fans - who loved him for being the huge rage-filled warrior that crushed his opponents.
Also, to be fair, he did know how to hold back.
Mario's friend had told him about that in her investigation. Razkar hurt more fighters than most, and tended to cripple them if they were unlucky, but he mostly had a grip on his rage and wouldn't seek to maim or kill.
Mostly.
Mario sprinted towards Razkar, his arms pumping at his sides. He leapt up thrust both his feet towards the Hemp's armored chest. "Yah!"
"[Wide Slash]!" Razkar's greatsword swung in an arc towards Mario. The blade seeking to cleave him in two before Mario's own attack landed. Razkar had superior reach even without his weapon. With it, there was a large zone where he could attack with impunity, but not be stuck at in return.
Mario shifted in mid-air to bring his boots into line with the attack. The sword bit into their soles as twisted to cancel the momentum of his attack and redirect it towards the ground. As he did that, the front of his body kept moving until he was facing Razkar. "Whooo hoooo!" He pushed off the sword into a somersault.
He planted his palms on the ground and spun both his legs around in a capoeira-like kick towards Razkar's legs. The blow would knock him off balance. Then, as he fell, Mario would land a twisting full-body uppercut. After that, the proper air-combo would begin.
"[Oak Stance]." Razkar didn't fall down. His legs didn't even budge. "Raaaargh!" He flipped his grip on his greatsword and brought it down at Mario just as he got his legs back underneath him for his uppercut.
"Woooo!" Instead of following through with his planned attack, Mario pushed away and seemed to glide around the ground in a semicircle that made no sense to physics. [Momentum Bank] and [Acrobatic Dodge] let him release the energy he'd absorbed from aborting his charge before, and then store it again to come to a sudden stop.
It was a powerful Skill, even if it couldn't rob other people of their momentum.
"Yah! Yah! Woo!" Mario punched Razkar in the small of his back twice - aiming for his kidneys, before backflipping away with a crescent kick.
"Rawr!" The Stitchfolk was unmoved as his [Oak Stance] held him firm. His retaliatory slash as he pivoted to face Mario was too low, and passed underneath him. "AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" But that wasn't his only attack. The huge blade in his hands blurred as he swung it with abandon. He must've used one of his Skills to increase his strength as the weapon moved like it didn't weigh anything at all.
Mario added some more momentum so he landed a few yards away, but he then immediately leapt back towards Razkar. The sword swung towards him, but Mario wasn't a helpless target in the air. His Skill activated again and his arcing jump turned into a sudden downward drop.
Once again, he was inside of Razkar's reach and ready to launch him up into the air with a powerful blow. This time, his uppercut landed before the [Berserker] could bring his sword back down. The blow stuck Razkar's head with enough force that it knocked his helmet away.
His scarred lips twisted in a smile as his feet remained firmly rooted on the ground. His sword was extended too far to be of any use, so instead he let go with his right hand and reached out towards Mario with his gauntlet.
Mario brought both arms up to block the side of his arm before jumping into the air and bringing his knees to his chest. He then extended them in another thrust-drop kick to Razkar's abdomen. It was like hitting a solid steel wall, or at least a huge tree, but even if he couldn't push the larger man away, Mario could use the momentum to slide backwards through the air.
Razkar raised his sword above his head with both hands. "[Groundshattering Chop]!" The blade came down like a hammer and shattered the stone floor. Shards of rock flew at Mario. He raised his arms to block his vital points, but the projectiles peppered him and drew blood with each hit. Not content with the results of his first Skill, Razkar reared back again. "[Whirlwind Slice]!" His greatsword swept out horizontally, but this time it wasn't an empowered slash.
It was a throw.
"Yah!" Mario burnt the last of his momentum to leap over it as quickly as possible. As soon as the spinning weapon passed under him, he stored his upward movement before releasing it in the opposite direction. He then sprinted towards his opponent again.
Always play offense. Especially against people with super-armor. Not being able to juggle wasn't a reason to not apply pressure.
The projectile reversed direction behind him. "Yah!" Mario lowered himself into a sliding kick just in time to let it pass over him again. As expected, Razkar's legs didn't budge an inch. Hopefully he'd have a nasty bruise, but that wasn't the point. Mario jumped up again right as Razkar caught his blade. He did a frontward spin, and brought both his feet down on the [Berserker]'s head.
He kicked off straight upwards before quickly reversing his momentum again to crash back down. "Yah! Whoo! Yippie!" He shouted each time he did, the crowd going wild at what had become one of his signature moves: the head multi-stomp.
"Rawr!!!" Razkar yelled as he finally brought his sword up - not in an attack, but as a shield held above his head. "[Flames of Rage]!!!"
Mario could feel the shockwaves from the bellow, but he was more concerned with the angry red aura that had enveloped the champion. His boots sizzled as he briefly landed on the sword before jumping away.
Offense was good and all, but you also had to know when to put space between you.
Despite all his rage, Razkar slowly stalked forward. It was clear that his [Oak Stance] didn't allow him to move quickly. Personally, Mario thought it was impressive that he could keep it up while walking at all. Still, he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity.
"It'sa [Power Up] time!" He shouted as he raised his hand in the air. He might only be a level fifteen [Heroic Plumber], but he had the Skills of someone twice that. Perhaps even three times as much. While this world didn't realize just how famous he was, there were multiple other worlds out there where he was...
[Iconic].
Light shimmered above his open palm as it flickered rapidly between colors and shapes as the Skill selected a random reward. His [Background Music] switched to a jaunty series of pings before blaring a trumpet as the skill settled in and the powerup was chosen. There, floating in mid-air, was a red and white mushroom.
Mario crushed the familiar fungus in his gloved hand.
His body pulsed once as he expanded and then contracted.
Then again.
And again.
He rapidly grew and shrunk, but he always wound up bigger until the mushroom's power faded - leaving him at double his original height. The [Background Music] swelled and the crowd went wild. From five feet tall to ten, he now towered over Razkar as the [Berserker] had once done to him.
To his credit, the champion didn't hesitate. His ponderous steps continued without pause as he finally got into range and swung his sword. "[Power Strike]!"
Mario punched at the same time. "YAH!"
The edge of the blade cut through the fabric on his knuckles, and the skin beneath it. It failed to damage the bones underneath as Mario had struck his counter-blow at the swing's apex - robbing it of much of its power. Both of them recoiled, but Mario lashed out with his other hand faster than Razkar could bring his weapon back in line.
"[Perfect Parry]!"
Or not.
This time, when their two attacks clashed, it was Mario's hand that lost. He grimaced slightly underneath his mustache but refused to back down. He only had so long in his powered up state, and he wasn't going to waste it.
"[Focused Rage]!" The red aura around Razkar flowed to his sword and condensed. With a snarl, he swiped at Mario - a trail of flames expanding in an arc.
"I thought String People were afraid of fire?" Mario did a cartwheel through the air and over the blistering heat. Midway through he brought his arms and legs tight against his body. Then, as he finished his rotation, he struck out with another dropkick towards Razkar's chest.
[Momentum Bank] couldn't steal momentum, but it could impart it. Not a lot, and it could only add to a target's existing motion.
So, unlike the last time, the [Berserker] flew back, but he still didn't go very far. Mario dashed forward with some stored momentum before banking it away again. He crouched down, and then unleashed a twisting uppercut as Razkar started falling back towards the ground.
The punch dented the side of his armor as he was thrown back into the air. This time he flew almost straight up. Mario considered another dropkick - this time from above - to finish the combo, but he was worried that even someone as tough as Razkar might be injured if he did that while powered up.
Instead, he stayed on the ground, spread his feet, and leaned back as he telegraphed his final punch.
The crowd loved it. They started to cheer even louder as Razkar reached his apex before falling back down.
Mario's stance wasn't just for show. [Momentum Charge] let him store up power while he wasn't moving and unleash it in a devastating strike. It was hard to set up. It didn't work with his other momentum Skills, and it could only increase a blow proportionally to its original strength.
It also wore off with any movement, so he couldn't charge it easily in a fight. He couldn't even charge it without winding up first.
Still, despite all the restrictions, or perhaps because of them, the hit was almost guaranteed to end the match.
He swung at just the right moment to connect with Razkar. The giant String Person flew away like a rocket and crashed into one of the walls of the arena.
The roar of the crowd almost drowned out his [Theme Song], which had changed into a victory one. Mario smiled and waved as he shrunk back down, and as he walked over to where Razkar was.
"Ugh..." The champion looked up with bleary eyes at Mario and had to blink several times before he focused on the plumber. It was good that he was conscious. Knocking people out was actually pretty dangerous.
"You okay, man?" Mario extended his hand.
Razkar growled. "I'm fine I can still..." He pressed his arms against the ground and tried to push himself up. He managed to raise up a few inches before his shaking limbs gave out. "..."
Mario looked from him to the Royal Box. He didn't think any actual royalty was inside. The Arena of Spectacle was still too low-brow for any [Noble] to attend. The Royal Box was there if they did. Otherwise it seated the most prominent guess.
What they said went.
...As long as they made the right call. Mario wasn't about to finish off a beaten opponent just 'cause someone told him to.
The figure inside stood up and began to clap. That was as good of sign as any that the match was well and truly over.
Mario looked back down at Razkar, his hand still held out to help the other person to their feet. "C'mon. I'll help you walk out of here."
"I'll do it on my own." The Hemp Stitchfolk ran his fingers over the dents in his enchanted armor. "That's what a champion does. You might've beaten me, but I still have my own image to maintain." With a grunt Razkar pulled his legs closer and then pushed. He slowly rose up against the wall, his arms bracing himself until he was upright.
It was slow and painful looking, but he managed to slowly walk out of the arena with one fist held above his head.
The crowd cheered with increased zeal as both he and Mario left through opposite exits. Once out of sight, Mario ran though the connecting tunnels to where Razkar was.
A Human [Healer] was already directing others to strip off the large man's armor and applying some cream to his bruised skin.
"Are you'a alright?" Mario asked as he skidded to a stop.
"Ugh." Razkar glowered at him. "I hate your voice."
"What'sa wrong with my'a voice'a?"
"It too high pitched." Razkar grumbled in a deep baritone. "And that stupid way you talk. I hate it."
"Hey! That'sa my accent there!" Mario shook a gloved finger at him. "Besides, I can help. I'm somewhat of a doctor myself."
"What's a '[Doctor]'?" The healer looked up.
"Hmmm..." Mario stroked his chin. "Someone who throws out pills to help sick people."
"Throws out..." The Human's eyes widened. "So you're an [Alchemist]! That explains so much!"
"It does?"
"Yeah." Razkar nodded. "You should've kept that to yourself, Mario." He smirked. "Not that it will help you in the Coliseum of Monarchs, but you never know. The [Gladiators] there will definitely know of that trick you kept up your sleeve by the time you fight there." He stood up.
"Hey!" The [Healer] protested. "You need rest."
"I'll get it, but the entrance hall isn't the place for it." He jerked his head to the side. "C'mon, we can walk together."
"Okay!" Mario nodded and walked to the side of Razkar as the pair slowly made their way through the tunnels that connected all the arenas in Tyrant's Rest. There was a central facility where the [Gladiators] lived.
Most of them at least. All of the involuntary ones, and most of the others as well. Death games were a business, and they worked best when the competitors were treated well and healthy.
"I've never seen you'a in the living area."
"..."
"Not that I'va have spent a lot'a time there."
"..."
"Okay, okay, you pulled it'a outta me. I've got this nice little'a place outside the city. It'sa a bit of a commute, but-"
"Shut. Up." Razkar winced as he stumbled slightly. "I don't care." He grimaced and kept on walking. "I knew I shouldn't have asked you to come with me."
"Yeah... why'a did you? You've never been'a one for socializing before."
"Nn." He grunted. "You beat me, so it's only right that I officially introduce you. I'm sure you've already spoken with the regulars, but it's tradition. At least for the Arena of Spectacle. We're all about honorable one-on-one fights, so it's my duty to see you off." He glared at Mario. "Now shut up."
"Okay."
"And turn off that stupid music!"
"I hear someone beat Razkar."
"That's unusual. Who was it?"
"I don't know. I wasn't watching the scrying orb."
Mectail paused as he heard the conversation. Razkar... he was the Champion of the... Arena of Spectacle. That's right. Mectail would've preferred to fight there rather than the Coliseum of Monarchs, but it wasn't like he had a choice. The Stitchfolk's arm raised and his fingers brushed against the thin metal band around his neck.
He winced a little as he moved up to his jaw. It was still surprisingly tender, despite the healing potion and Skills of the arena's [Healer].
"Who was it?"
"Hm?" Vitte looked at him as her fox ears perked up. "Who was who?"
"Who beat Razkar?"
"Some Human. He has some strange name. And an accent?" She shrugged. "I don't know. Their match just ended, so they're probably around here somewhere." She narrowed her eyes. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You doing okay? That was the third time you challenged the Shadow Champion."
Mectail nodded. "I'm doing fine. He actually knows how to hold back."
"Really?" She gave him a look of disbelief.
"Really. I'd even go as far as to say he's been limiting himself and that we haven't seen his full power."
"Eh." She shrugged. "Not like we ever will. He's a fad. Now that they don't allow him in the melees, you're the only one that ever fights him." Her voice grew serious. "And I doubt they'll let you keep on challenging him. It's boring."
"It's not-"
"For the audience it is. No matter how good the Shadow Champion is at fighting, he'll never be a real Gladiator."
Mectail closes his eyes and nodded. "You're right, of course."
"Hey. Cheer up!" He felt her clap his shoulder. "Did you hear that Roman's considering a villain arc?"
"What? Really?" Mectail craned his neck to look for the [Archer].
"Yep. Says he wants to try playing a more engaging role." She giggled. "He's been practicing his 'nefarious glare'." The Fox-Beastkin made finger quotes in the air.
Mectail laughed. "That sounds entertaining. Think we can be his foils?" While he greatly preferred honorable duels - like he'd had back in Pomle, that wasn't the norm in the arena. He'd grown used to it. And honestly?
It was fun.
A lot more fun than when he'd first started out, but Gladiators in the Coliseum of Monarchs got paid a lot. Plus, there were other perks.
He chatted with his teammate for a while longer. Not that there were official teams, but he, Vitte, Thexca, and Relladen worked together more often than not. You had to form friendships to last, especially in the melees. Losing wasn't the worst thing to happen, but winning paid better, and it was easier to win with people backing you up.
It was also a lot easier to avoid getting seriously injured.
"We're going out for drinks. You coming?" Vitte asked him.
"No. Thank you." He waved her off. "I'm going to look for the newcomer."
"Really?"
"Of course. Aren't you curious?"
"I've seen him around. Odd fellow."
"How so?"
"Let's see." She started counting off on her fingers. "He doesn't stay here." That wasn't so odd. Lots of [Gladiators] spent time away from the arena. Mectail, himself, accompanied his team outside at times. The reason he didn't do it more often wasn't because he wasn't allowed to as a prisoner, but because he preferred to spend his free time training. "He's short."
"How short."
"My height."
Mectail looked the Fox Beastkin up and down. Vitte only stood a few inches above five foot. So pretty short indeed. "I see."
"He has this big, bushy, black mustache." Mectail mentally shrugged. He kept his head shaved, except for a short ponytail that sat at the top.
"Does that matter?"
Vitte ignored him and kept on going. "He has these blue, hemp pants that go all the way to his shoulders." That did sound strange. "Underneath, he has a red, cotton shirt. And he wears white, silk gloves."
"Is that a fashion? Mixing types of cloth? Or a political statement?"
"Who knows?" Vitte shrugged. "He also has a red, cotton hat in a strange design. You'll probably see some audience members wearing replicas. It has an 'M' stitched on its front."
"An 'M'?"
She nodded. "His name is 'Mario', so it's probably from that."
"Mario? That doesn't sound Chandrarian. What's his race?"
"Human."
"Hmmm... Could he be from Terandria then?"
"I'm betting on some little island somewhere. He has a really thick accent." She leaned in to whisper. "But that's probably part of his character."
"Oh?" Mectail tilted his head. "Isn't he new? Most newcomers don't have characters. Or even know how to do anything but Knight."
Vitte smirked in the way only a Fox Beastkin could. "Oh, he's definitely a [Performer]. My bet is that he worked in other arenas and then reinvented himself to come to Tyrant's Rest."
"What makes you say that?"
She winked at him. "You'll see for yourself. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise Mister 'I have to train for the Shadow Champion and don't have time to hang out with my friends'."
Mectail crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"But, sure, I'll come with you. It's always fun to check out the fresh meat."
He nodded at her and the pair headed towards where the tunnel from the Arena of Spectacle connected to the common area. As he walked, Mectail reminisced about when he'd first arrived. Being a prisoner had been... bad, but he'd been surprised at how arenas worked and how [Gladiators] were treated.
He'd been one for a long time. Long enough that he probably could've saved up enough money to buy his freedom - despite his 'price' increasing as he became more famous. But, the simple fact was - there was no need. He did miss Pomle, and he might go back there one day. Or return to the country of his birth. But the arena was his home now.
He got to train as much as he wanted. Shelter and food that were as austere or as luxurious as he wished. Good friends. Honorable duels against some of the strongest people Nerrhavia Fallen had to offer. The only real downside was 'playing the game'.
Fights that were as much of a [Bard]'s show for the audience as they were real. Storylines and arcs that played out on the Coliseum's floor - often with real blood and death. Good friends that came up with said stories so he didn't have to.
Mectail simply had to play his part, but... since his part involved fighting, he was capable of it and enjoyed it. It was more like a demonstrative spar with a lot of improvisation.
"Hey! There's Razkar!" Vitte jumped several feet in the air and hung there for a moment as she pointed down the hallway and over the usual crowd of [Gladiators] making their way back here after a day at their arena ended. Indeed, Mectail could make out the large [Berserker] as he stood a good head over most everyone else. "Hey, Razkar. How's it going?" Vitte smiled up at him as they got close. The large man just grunted in response and stalked away.
"Ah... ha ha ha." His companion chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head. "That'sa probably my fault."
"You must be Mario." Mectail looked him up and down. He did wear a rather distinct outfit - just as Vitte had described. There were gaps and slashes up and down it - undoubted from his fight with Razkar.
"Yep! I'ma Mario!" The little man smiled and held out a gloved hand.
Mectail clasped it in return. "Well met."
"Yeah. Welcome to the Coliseum of Monarchs, Mario."
"Thanks. I'ma glad to be here."
"So, you've been a [Gladiator] for a while? Some place outside of Tyrant's Rest?"
"Not the Class." Mario shrugged as he let go of Mectail's hand. "But I'va had some experience with'a fighting."
"Indeed." Mectail didn't recognize his accent, but that was hardly surprising. He wasn't exactly well-traveled. What he did pick up on as Mario and Vitte chatted was that Mario was skilled.
The mixture of friendliness and casual confidence was telling for someone who'd just reached the Coliseum of Monarchs. Most others that Mectail had met over the years were at least a little nervous. He'd been when he'd first arrived. That spoke of Mario either not having any hero-worship of his favorites, or that he was used to hanging out with high-level people.
Possibly both.
The other thing that screamed to him, was that despite his gaudy outfit, Mario would be right at home in Pomle.
The way he moved was direct and minimalistic. There was no wasted movement. His heavy boots made no sound as they walked - something that took a lot of effort to learn, and tended to be automatic after that. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed increasingly likely that Mario was a fellow [Martial Artist].
There was only one way to know for sure.
"Mario, I'd like to be the first person to challenge you to a match in the Coliseum of Monarchs."
...
Mectail strolled out of his entrance first. He stood with his shoulders and feet square as he watched the gate on the far side slowly open.
"It'sa me... Mario!" The shout came as his opponent stepped out from the shadows. There were a few members of the audience that shouted his name with him, but this wasn't the Arena of Spectacle. He didn't have as strong of following here.
Which wasn't to say he didn't have fans in the crowd. Every [Gladiator] in the Coliseum of Monarchs had their supporters - or else they'd have been sent away.
Sure enough, as Mectail had been told, music began to play.
[Phantom Orchestra]? [Invisible Melody]? He had no idea what the name of Mario's Skill was, but... Mectail took a deep breath in and out as he closed his eyes... it seemed to be only that.
The music came from all around instead of emanating from Mario. It was probably the same for the audience members judging from the small gasps he heard from above. More importantly, Mectail didn't feel any different. No emotions or alterations of his perception. He'd trained his mind to notice such things, and he found none, so he opened his eyes to watch the other gladiator.
Perhaps Mario wasn't a [Bard] after all - despite his appearance. He certainly looked like one as he smiled and waved to the crowd. Mectail waited for him to finish and then cupped his hands and gave a short bow - while keeping his eyes focused on his opponent.
Mario smiled, nodded, and then took off his hat and bowed. A natural Knight - not surprising with the friendly demeanor he had. Mario then straightened up and brought the brim of his hat up with his right hand as his left moved to the back of his head to pull it snuggly back into place.
The two charged each other.
"Yah!"
Mario was quick. Mectail had expected that, but he was still surprised. His foe jumped up and kicked him, but swung back down to the ground with unnatural speed.
"Woo!"
Mectail parried the double-legged kick and then blocked the follow up attack. He'd seen all sorts of fighters in his long years as a [Gladiator]. Mario's odd mid-air movements were similar to someone he'd sparred with countless times - Vitte.
His teammate and the Human didn't move exactly the same, but they both were able to adjust their trajectory mid-air. He was used to it by now.
"Yah! Yah! Woo! Yeah! Whoo!"
He was also used to his foes yelling. Perhaps not as high-pitched or enthusiastically as Mario - who didn't seem to be shouting as a way to take him off guard. Was he doing it to play to the crowd more? To compact his diaphragm and deliver a little more power? Or was he trying to lure Mectail into a false sense of complacency and have him associate an attack with a shout?
If so, the next question was: would there be a shout without an attack? Or an attack without a shout?
Mectail began to counter punch and kick, but Mario was relentless. He had seemingly endless stamina as his acrobatic assault continued. That was... actually a little surprising. No one was lacking for endurance at this level, but there were still limits. Mectail still had to pace himself, but that didn't seem to apply to Mario.
[Long Backstep].
Mectail used a simple Skill to put some room and see how Mario handled missing completely.
The answer was - surprisingly well. Even without connecting with anything with his double-leg mid-air kick, he landed on his feet and dashed ahead without losing a beat...
Now!
Mectail surged forward. [Counter Charge]! He slipped past Mario's punch and grabbed his outstretched arm. Before he'd become a prisoner, Mectail had trained for years and years in Pomle. Back then, he'd been a [Grappler]. He'd had to adjust his fighting style for the arena - especially for the Melees, but he still had plenty of Skills to end the fight once he got his hands on his target.
[Iron Grip]. [Immobilizing Pin].
He held Mario tightly and began to apply a [Joint Lo-
Mario spun.
"Woooooooooo..."
Suddenly and without any buildup, Mario spun - and Mectail spun with him.
It wasn't a re-positioning of a [Grappler] trying to adjust pressure, or even the wild flailing of a trapped animal. It was an incredibly fast spin like an [Acrobat] would make during a jump, or a [Dancer] on their feet. No, faster than that. Like a child's toy top. A spin like that should've required a lot of built-up speed to achieve, and also shouldn't be possible with someone hanging on - especially someone as large and heavy as Mectail. He wasn't the biggest or the strongest, but he also wasn't a waif.
All these thoughts raced through Mectail's head as he first tried to figure out what Mario was doing, and then tried to come up with a way to stop it.
"...oooooo Whoooo!"
With a sudden shout, Mario stopped. His spin ended just as suddenly as it began as he thrust his arms and legs out. It was too much, and Mectail's grip slipped.
Normally, if he'd been thrown with such speed, he'd still have been able to twist in mid-air to soften his landing. Right now? He was too dizzy to focus on much... until his back slammed into the arena's wall.
He sunk down as his legs splayed out in front of him. To his eyes, the world was still rotating.
He had to stand up, vertigo or no.
He leaned forward and nearly fell, so he instead pressed his back to the wall. Right. The wall was sturdy. It would help him move upwards if he just used it to help prop himself up. He brought one leg in, then the other, and pushed. His left leg slipped in the dirt, but he got it back underneath his center of gravity. Mectail gritted his teeth and raised himself up until he was standing.
Leaning for now, but standing soon.
His vision swam, but he made out Mario waving to the crowd instead of pressing his advantage. Knighting? To give him time to recover? Or grandstanding to the crowd? Was there a difference?
Mectail leaned forward and then stumbled to the side as he tried to remain upright without the wall's support. His body staggered, but he remained standing due to his muscle-memory. He'd balanced on long, tall poles as part of his training. Even if his sense of balance was off, he'd stay up right.
He charged.
Not a great charge, or even a good one. He zigzagged as the world seemed to twist around him.
He saw Mario running at him, the music changing as he did.
Mectail would have once chance. His capstone Skill.
As Mario came close, the [Martial Artist] lunged forward. "[Skillbreaker Palm]!"
He hit Mario squarely in the chest and felt his Skill press up against the Skill of his opponent. There was a meta-physical struggle as Mectail focused his will. Whatever level Mario was, his skill felt like a rock wall, but [Skillbreaker Palm] was a Skill made to break other Skills.
While it seemed to stretch on forever, in reality only a split-second had passed before he felt Mario's Skill buckle. Then, just like when breaking a stack of tiles with his bare hands, one Skill after another shattered in sequence.
There was silence - from both Mario and the crowd as the music faded.