[center][img]https://images.cooltext.com/5133042.png[/img][/center]

Slender fingers, pale and lithe traveled through thick bangs of raven black hair, an obsidian gaze fixed upon the lumbering of heavy steps. An equivalent of ten thousand dollars was not a prize to scoff at, neither to discard. Indeed, the fighters who had shed blood in that arena painted the floor with their ambition, sweat and sanguine wine all the same. Surrounded by a roaring crowd, it was difficult to spot a single human in their midst, most notably orcs and savages lining the spectators. Agendas were settled in this ring of most holy combat, bets were made and grudges were put to rest, if not borne from the bloodshed. 

There was only one rule. Physical combat. There was no room, no place for mental prowess. It was not a battle of wits, nor was it a conflict of minds. No, fists were to do the talking, nothing else stepping in the way of these echoing strikes. 

Milo still felt the pain emanating through his form, a deep breath escaping his lips as the boy was all but able to stifle the grin appearing beneath a small nose. [color=ed1c24]"I mean..,"[/color] a voice came, easily drowned by the rowdy cheers of spectators throwing their arms into the air, [color=ed1c24]"if you're gonna' hit like a bitch, you're better off going back to your knitting,"[/color] Milo wiped the sweat from his forehead. Indeed, the boy's appearance did not match  the rest, sticking out as if a sore thumb. 

What, one might wonder, was a frail, scrawny boy such as he doing in a circle of blood and conflict? Another question to ask was, of course, what he must have done to wrong a beast like this mighty opponent. Indeed, the answer was quite plain, he wanted the prize money. However, the two appeared to know one another already, introductions traded for a quicker and by all means, dirtier, battle.

"Big words," the man bellowed, his orcish appearance leaving little to the imagination as he stood in shorts and little else. Fat quite easily united with muscle to form a frame most intimidating, large tusks demanding the attention of any onlooker, "coming from a little shit, like you." 

[color=ed1c24]"Yeah, sounds about right,"[/color] Milo chuckled, raising his fists. The last punch he had endured knocked the wind out of him. Truly, it was astounding that he could still stand. 

"Tonight, I put you back in the grave, zombie boy!" But then, this man appeared quite wary of what the boy actually was. A Revenant was not to be taken lightly, but neither was an orc. 

Visibly tensing, his teeth clenched at the insult, Milo cracked his fists, obsidian eyes glaring daggers at his foe. The more playful Revenant appeared vacant, if only for just a moment, before he finally spoke, [color=ed1c24]"I'm killing you."[/color] 

Before an exchange of words could proceed, Milo evened the distance between himself, and his foe. The boy's speed was matched by his grace, each movement a flowing wind as he fluidly dodged the strikes coming his way. The Revenant evaded, his body turning to allow for a counter attack which wasted no time before slithering into a quick, precise kick to the orc's shin. Sending the lumbering giant off balance, any spectator in the bellowing crowd, who had seen this boy fight in the past, was well aware that another attack was hidden behind the first. 

Allowing the momentum to accelerate his pace, Milo proceeded like a stinging viper with a roundhouse kick to the orc's chin. Yet again, the crowd roared. One would do well to know its position on fights. The winner did not only win the battle, but also the graces of those watching. Echoing the battles emanating throughout ancient Rome, if you won the masses, you won the world.

The disorientation was enough to throw his opponent into a state of daze, where an attempted punch was quite easily evaded by the Revenant, [color=ed1c24]"never..,"[/color] Milo spoke, seeing the strike pass him by before grappling the appendage. Shoving his palm against the orc's elbow, the Revenant effectively broke the man's appendage, earning an anguished scream of pain, [color=ed1c24]"...call me a fucking zombie..."[/color] Milo finished, sending a hard kick to the orc's leg. The boy had strength surpassing his size, indeed. 

As the orc fell to a knee, breathing heavily with pain emanating from a broken arm, Milo wasted not a second before launching a kick to his opponent's throat. It sent him to the floor, gagging and choking. A winner was clearly declared, and stumbling back, Milo shoved his fist into the air to mark success. The crowd cheered, and he was ten thousand dollars richer. He had always wanted to go to a super market. Now, he could, and a new one had recently opened.