I Only Tame Dragons

The announcement boomed across the arena, displaying Lydia's name alongside her opponent's.

The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and murmurs, and all eyes immediately fell on Lydia. She frowned under their scrutiny, glancing at her teammates.

"What?" she asked, confused by the way they were looking at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head.

Von leaned back with a lazy grin. "Try to win, my sweet Lydia. Frigid doesn't have any offensive capabilities, so we're kind of relying on you here to secure the first point."

Horizon's expression was unreadable, his voice even. "Don't mess this up."

Silphie, as always, spoke in her sleepy monotone, offering her version of encouragement. "You can do it."

Frigid crossed his arms and added in his usual blunt manner, "We're counting on you."

Lydia's eyes widened, her lips twitching into a nervous smile that faltered almost instantly. "Way to put a lady under pressure," she muttered, her tone laced with exasperation.

Horizon raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. "You're a thief, Lydia, and you're up against the same archetype as your opponent. You can win this."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why do you sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than me?"

Von chuckled as if the exchange amused him. "Besides, you're not just a thief, are you? You're our Lydia, the relic hunter extraordinaire. Go show them what that means."

"Exactly! I'm a relic hunter, not a thief!" Lydia huffed, though the indignation in her voice was tinged with an air of determination.

She rolled her shoulders and glanced at the arena, her opponent already waiting. Without another word, she leapt over the edge and landed gracefully in the center of the battleground.

The cheers of the crowd intensified as Lydia straightened up, her eyes locking onto her opponent. Some whistled and others offered her proposal of marriage. It was clear that Lydia was among the beauties of the game and she had earned some fans along the way.

To her relief, her opponent was also a woman. Similar height, similar build—this wasn't a mismatch of brute strength. Their victory would depend entirely on skill and strategy.

Her opponent, cloaked in the dark garb typical of Scarlet Blood Moon, had a confident smirk playing across her lips. She twirled a pair of thin, deadly daggers between her fingers, their edges gleaming menacingly under the arena lights.

"You're the Nyx Guild thief, huh?" the assassin said, her voice laced with mockery. "Let's see if your low-thief skills are worth anything in a real fight."

Lydia smirked back, sliding into her stance, daggers drawn. "I'll let you know once I'm done claiming my prize—your defeat. And for the record I'm a relic hunter." Discover stories with empire

The arena fell into silence, broken only by the low hum of the system's countdown.

Three . . .

Two . . .

One . . .

Begin!

The assassin moved first, vanishing into the shadows. Typical assassin behavior. Lydia cursed under her breath as her eyes darted across the arena, searching for the telltale flicker of movement.

"Great," she muttered, gripping her daggers tightly. "They always have to be dramatic, don't they?"

A flash of movement from her right. Lydia twisted just in time to deflect a swipe from the assassin's blade, sparks flying as steel met steel. She countered with a low strike aimed at the assassin's legs, but her opponent flipped back, evading the blow effortlessly.

"You're quick," the assassin taunted, circling Lydia with calculated steps. "But quick doesn't win battles."

"And smug doesn't win points," Lydia shot back, her tone sharp.

She kept her movements measured, her mind working overtime to read her opponent's pattern. Every move the assassin made was precise, aimed to disorient and overwhelm. But Lydia wasn't just a thief—she was a survivor, someone who thrived under different circumstances.

The assassin lunged again, her strikes faster this time. Lydia barely managed to deflect them, her arms straining with the effort. The crowd roared with every clash of their blades, the tension was high.

"What's wrong? You're already lagging," the assassin sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Are you ready to lose?"

Lydia smirked despite the sweat beading on her brow. "No, just making sure you don't embarrass yourself too quickly."

The assassin's expression darkened, and she attacked with renewed ferocity. But this time, Lydia was ready. She ducked under a high swing, pivoted on her heel, and drove her elbow into the assassin's side. The hit landed, eliciting a grunt from her opponent, who stumbled but quickly regained her footing.

"That's more like it," Lydia said, her confidence growing.

She knew she couldn't match the assassin in pure speed or strength, but she didn't need to. Thieves was about strategy, about reading the terrain and knowing when to strike. Lydia glanced around the arena, noting the uneven ground and scattered obstacles. She could use that.

The assassin came at her again, but Lydia feinted left, baiting her opponent into overcommitting. At the last second, Lydia darted right, scaling a low platform and flipping over to the other side. The assassin followed, but her footing faltered on the uneven surface, giving Lydia the opening she needed.

With a swift kick, Lydia sent a loose stone flying toward her opponent's ankle. It wasn't much, but it was enough to throw her balance off. The assassin staggered, and Lydia seized the moment, rushing forward and disarming her with a calculated strike to the wrist.

The assassin's dagger clattered to the ground, and Lydia pressed her blade to her opponent's throat. "Looks like this relic hunter just claimed her prize," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins.

"Nice! Good job, my sweet Lydia!" Von shouted, his voice brimming with excitement as he clapped enthusiastically.

Frigid exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. "Looks like that's one point for us," he said, a rare note of relief in his voice.

But before Lydia could even catch her breath, Horizon's sharp tone cut through the cheers. "Wait. What's going on?" His frown deepened as his eyes fixed on the assassin.

The arena seemed to darken as tendrils of inky black smoke began to coil around the assassin's body, swirling upward like living shadows.

Lydia staggered back, her daggers still drawn, her instincts screaming danger. "This . . . isn't right," she muttered, her voice low but tense.