It tempted Astaroth to watch some matches again, but it would be rude to ignore the man. So he turned to look at him.
“Then I hope I have an answer to your question.” He said, smiling.
“Your class. It’s a special class, right?” Declan asked.
“Just as much as yours.” Astaroth replied with a light smile.
“Then a word of warning. Some guilds are looking to recruit special classes, by hook or by crook. I can tell you are not part of a guild yet. So be careful.” Declan said, before walking away a little.
The man started looking at the screens that were left intently. Most likely gauging his possible next opponents.
‘He seemed honest enough. I’ll heed his warning.’ Astaroth thought to himself, turning his head back to the screens too.
The third round was almost done, and what little fights were still ongoing were mostly uninteresting. Astaroth only watched to gather intel, nothing more.
ƥαṇdαηθνε|
Astaroth threw a quick glance at Declan, who nodded at him, before it transported them to different platforms.
When he reappeared, Astaroth was face to face with a dwarf. This one, contrary to Gulnur, wore chain-mail armor, instead of a full plate.
He also had two small axes, one in each hand, covered in runic symbols. He looked like a Viking of old, if only half the height.
His hair was shaved to the sides and braided from the top to the tip. His beard was also similarly braided, with a big golden ring holding it together at the end.
He sneered at Astaroth when he saw him.
“Well, if it isn’t the cheater.” The dwarf said.
Astaroth’s face instantly darkened.
‘Again, with those baseless accusations.’ He thought.
If looks could kill, Astaroth would have already won this bout, with how he was glaring at the dwarf before him. His eyes were sharp, like the edge of his blade, as he pulled out his great axe.
“I’m tired of you all smearing me with baseless words and conspiracies. If I had really cheated, I would already be out of the competition, would I not?” Astaroth spat.
The dwarf looked dumbfounded for a moment. The words struck true and made him look like an idiot.
But that only angered the little man.
“Are you calling me a liar?!” He growled.
“No. I’m calling you an imbecile. Looks like your brain is perfectly sized to fit that small body of yours.” Astaroth replied in contempt.
“You! I’ll make you pay!” The dwarf shouted in anger.
He waved his axes around him like a madman, pushing against the arena’s restrictions. He couldn’t wait to cut the elf into pieces.
His wish came soon, as the gong to start the fight resounded. The dwarf lunged at Astaroth like a crazed animal, famished from starvation.
To Astaroth, it was almost comical. The small taping of feet on the stone was like that of a rushing toddler.
Astaroth completed the melding with White before the dwarf made it to him, boosting his stats. And before the dwarf could perform even a single attack, a leg appeared in its torso.
The force behind it sent him hurtling through the air before impacting the barrier. He didn’t even make it to the floor before a great axe came in at high speed, cutting through his neck and striking the barrier behind it.
And just like that, his health bar zeroed. His head split from the rest of his body, and Astaroth kicked it away.
It dissolved into particles before it could hit anything, along with the body, before reappearing in the center of the platform. But the look in the dwarf’s eyes had changed.
Where there was once rage and disgust, there was now clear fear. The dwarf slowly retreated to the other side of the platform, trembling and stumbling.
He was sweating bullets, as he looked at Astaroth like he was the boogie man. Astaroth only glared back, not wanting to give him more attention than he deserved.
He turned his head to look at the screens, and this time he got to catch a glance of Khalor’s fight. It was short-lived though, as the Necromancer completed his just seconds after.
It slightly disappointed Astaroth that he couldn’t see more, but what he saw told him enough, anyway. He saw the hordes of undead pouring out of the ground around Khalor and grasped his fighting technique from it.
So instead, Astaroth looked around the other screens, trying to find his last opponent from the tier-one players that were left. All the players in that tier were mostly grinders.
They had earned their position in the tournament through fast level up, and weren’t pro player levels of skill. So whichever one he got, he would most likely crush them.
Astaroth watched the fights go down, with many of them not being close to ending. He surmised these players would probably run out of time and get ties.
He turned to look at the terrified dwarf, who was still huddled in a corner, shivering. He was white like a drape, and sweating profusely.
It only got worse when Astaroth’s gaze landed on him. Even though the dwarf knew he couldn’t get attacked any longer, the sight of his head flying away from his body was still imprinted on his brain.
Astaroth slowly walked over to him, making sure every step was imposing and filled with a sense of dread. When he was finally standing before the dwarf, he leaned down.
“I have only one thing to say to you.” He said in a low tone.
The dwarf twitched at his voice, looking at the floor.
“If you reach the last phase, surrender directly. You and your type do not deserve to be here.” Astaroth said, before straightening back.
The dwarf quivered at the rapid movement, words escaping him, only able to whimper.
Astaroth took his lack of response as a reply to his tactic and walked back to the center of the arena just before the teleportation restarted.
‘Only one more to go, before the last phase.’ He thought, his lips breaking into a grin.
