[h3][b]Yesterday[/b][/h3]

As the bloody and pulpy remains of Angel's head ran down the fat fingers of Tyrant, he looked at the rest of the larger than human body and wondered if this would serve as a proper treat for the hard-fought battle. The giant's body was still fresh from the several wounds that he occurred, multiple spots of damage from both those electrifying spears and the recoil from his Sound Eater, but nothing that his body couldn't rest off for a time. Anyhow, surrounded by destruction by himself, he sat down with a heavy thump, dropping the body near his grasp as his bloodied hand started to rub the mush across his body. This was simply as a matter of his rituals, usually Tyrant would be covered in other people's blood from head to toe while feasting, but with only one measly morsel rubbing this paste upon himself had to suffice to appease his hungering god. A bit of stinging was felt, rubbing blood onto fresh wounds especially when they were still lightly sizzling was hurtful but through these wounds Tyrant felt the first taste of victory within the tournament... And it tasted good. Finished with his barbaric ritual, the ogre grabbed the lifeless corpse by the leg, yanking hard enough to rip off an entire leg with a large hunk of meat to follow. The feasting soon commenced, eating the vampire's body with small bites trying to savor his victory and taste of this new specimen as the taste was far different from his universe's vampires. Alas, even when taking small bites, the Tyrant had quickly finished his meal leaving him unsatisfied for the time. So, as Tyrant sat around covered in blood with strips of only metal as Tyrant had munched on the bones as well, a familiar voice entered his ear holes. 

It was Oren, the annoying announcer from before the fight had started, Tyrant was barely listening as he picked off blackened strips of skin from his various burns. The person didn't provide much else besides altering him of some prize among ruin of the amphitheater and that a storm would soon be dropping on the land. It seemed that Oren had to announce that a storm was coming meaning that it would be pretty heavy hitting... For humans. The Ogre Kingdoms don't care much for weather, they lived in the mountains that were cold enough to give most frostbite in minutes, lived near volcanoes in which some ogres drink from time to time, and their entire homeland in general is a landscape known to be one of the most dangerous areas in the Old World. Tyrant did not care for finding shelter for some might as well be drizzle, but was interested for the prize that he gained from eating his competition. 

Scrounging around for a bit, the ogre managed to find his mark, yet it was completely underwhelming. The object was no bigger than his hand, and it seemed to have a large grinning face chiseled into the pot. After turning the thing around the green pot for a bit, Tyrant seemed to hear something else inside of the object yet the opening seemed to have nothing from the inside. The ogre found it... Interesting, as he shook the pot towards his opened palm for two random coins falling onto his hand. Tyrant looked at this currency, not recognizing these coins, he simply threw them away and looked at the pot with slight disdain for its uselessness. The Ogre simply jammed the thing into a various small pocket of his large pants finding the trinket basically a useless item, maybe it could be used later, but to him it might as well be with the rubble of the amphitheater. Still, Tyrant just sat around, he was going to stay in the ruins trying to conserve his strength and focusing mainly on getting heal these wounds to the best of his abilities. And so, time goes forward into the next day as Tyrant waited around the destroyed ruins of his battleground.

[h3][b]Today[/b][/h3]
Before the night began, Tyrant had constructed some sort of make-shift tent out of the various rubble and torn out earth with his massive strength. It would satisfy something that resembled his old bed, but the storm soon began as it seemed that the rain was actually similar to that of his homeland... Heavy. The construct made out of heavy stone stood against most of the time, the rain was no problem, but the thunderous shocks gave the structure a shake causing it to fall down multiple times forcing the ogre to rebuild several times. It didn't even matter though at a point, ogres can march several days without being tired, but the Tyrant himself had grown accustomed to his mobile tent, so he had grown into the more luxurious forms of being a blood-thirsty rich power hungry warlord.  

So, as Tyrant laid in a shitty rubble stacked to be some form of structure, the storm seemed to fade away allowing peace for a short time before another disturbance inconvenienced the Tyrant. A familiar boom was heard in the distance, something akin to his Sound Eater at a much larger scale, but the Tyrant himself could feel the small tremors that it carried which impressed the ogre. It seemed something was happening, but in this grassy expanse, the giant couldn't see much from where most of the action was taking place. Though, what Tyrant could see made him gurgle out a low laugh as above the sky was tainted with a inky black monster that enveloped the sky. It was quite impressive, to say the least, what Tyrant wanted simply was to figure out a way to eat it, but that come later as Oren once again decided to show his presence once more to Tyrant's disdain.

What he gave was a relative importance, rather than being transported like last time to his opponents it seemed that he would have to find something else in this large space. It seemed that whoever he fights it will be in the open, this could be good or bad, but it all depended on the mystery opponent for the overgrown ogre. Though it was no matter of scheming in the future, brute force usually works, so if that doesn't work the Tyrant shall wing it as always and win! However... He needed to know where to even head in this land that seemed to be an endless expanse of grass. The Ogre tried to scan the landscape to no avail, he had a day to win, a large time if he somehow went in the right direction towards his opponents, but nothing at all would indicate which direction the opponent would be! So, the Tyrant tapped his foot impatiently for a bit, shaking the rubble around him, before getting the idea of asking the annoying disembodied voice for help to find his next victim. With a clumsy action, trying to work the thing, he called for Oren on his Phylactery, "I order for your aid, lead me to my next meal before my gut wonders what you taste like."