I Only Tame Dragons

"Lydia!" Von shouted, running up to meet them. His usually light-hearted demeanor had vanished, replaced by a cold, silent intensity.

The assassin smirked, twirling her daggers with casual arrogance. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? You all seemed pretty confident before the fight. What happened?"

Neither Horizon nor Von responded. Their silence spoke louder than any words could, a quiet, simmering rage that threatened to explode at any moment.

"Silphie!" Horizon called, his voice calm but commanding.

The sleepy healer appeared at his side almost instantly, her usual monotone replaced by a rare urgency. She knelt beside Lydia, her hands glowing with soothing light as she began to mend the thief's wounds.

Lydia winced as the magic worked through her battered body, but her lips quivered as she forced out an apology.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice weak. "I couldn't secure a point . . . I let you all down."

She could have won if not for that strange stat boost that the assassin had used. Now she was feeling all guilty

Von crouched beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You did more than enough. Rest now. Leave the rest to us."

Horizon stood, his gaze locked onto the assassin, who still wore her arrogant grin. His voice was icy as he spoke, his words cutting through the tense air. "Take care of her, Silphie. Frigid, Von and I will handle the rest."

The assassin laughed, twirling her daggers again. "Oh, I'd love to see you try. But if that was your best, don't expect much of a fight."

Horizon and Von exchanged a glance, their expressions steely and unreadable. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, sensing that something had shifted. The two stepped forward, their auras palpable, radiating an energy that silenced the arena once more.

As they prepared for the next match, the assassin's mocking laughter faded, replaced by an uneasy silence.

The accessory provided by the Elven Elders to the Scarlet Blood Moon team were potent but limited. Each use boosted stats by 50%, granting the wielder a significant edge, though the enhancement lasted only a single minute before gradually lessening by the following minute. The elders had given them just two of these artifacts, carefully calculated to secure three crucial points in this match.

The matchmaking had been rigged to ensure that three of the weakest members of Nyx's Guild would face off first, increasing the odds of an early defeat for their team. The Scarlet Blood Moon's strategy was clear: wear down Nyx's forces and capitalize on their vulnerabilities.

Now, with Frigid as the next contender—a member known primarily for his defensive capabilities and lacking significant offensive skills—the odds seemed heavily stacked in Scarlet Blood Moon's favor. Facing Gore, their ruthless leader and a master of swift, critical strikes, this fight seemed like a foregone conclusion.

Victory appeared all but certain for Scarlet Blood Moon, and with it, their advancement to the next round.

Now, with one boost already spent, Scarlet Blood Moon had just one left. Their strategy was clear: use it wisely in the next fight and ensure victory. If they secured this next point, their place in the next round would be guaranteed.

The Scarlet Blood Moon members exchanged confident smirks, their leader, Gore, standing with a calm, almost predatory demeanor. Known across Eternia as one of the deadliest assassins, Gore was infamous for his ruthless efficiency. He specialized in critical, lightning-fast strikes that left his opponents dead before they even realized what had happened. He was their trump card, the pinnacle of their confidence.

This was not a fight Horizon's team could win—or so Scarlet Blood Moon believed.

When the screen lit up, displaying the next matchup, Gore's name appeared alongside his opponent: Frigid.

The Scarlet Blood Moon team erupted in grins and murmurs of satisfaction.

"Perfect," one of them whispered, leaning back with a smug chuckle. "Frigid doesn't stand a chance against Gore."

"This is it," another added. "One more point, and we're through."

Gore smirked, the faintest flicker of amusement passing through his sharp eyes. "Easy work," he muttered, adjusting the hilt of his blade.

But on Horizon's side, there was no panic, no hesitation. Instead, there was calm. Horizon and Von exchanged a look before turning to Frigid, who stood silently, the cool air of confidence radiating from him.

"You've got this," Horizon said, his voice steady and reassuring.

"Don't let his reputation shake you," Von added with a small grin.

Horizon placed a hand on Frigid's shoulder. "Stick to the plan," he reminded him, his voice low but firm, carrying the weight of absolute trust.

Frigid didn't speak. He simply nodded, his ice-blue eyes locked on the arena. There was no fear in his expression, only quiet determination.

As he stepped forward, the crowd roared, the arena buzzing with energy. Scarlet Blood Moon's cheers were the loudest, confident their leader was about to crush the opposition.

Frigid moved with deliberate steps, his breath steady, his mind sharp. The air around him seemed to chill as he entered the arena, his name and reputation was becoming a joke in the crowed.

"Isn't he that Ice Giant who only focuses on defense?"

"That's right, but his other stats are ridiculously low."

"What can he possibly do against Gore? It's a lost cause."

"Looks like that guild's about to meet their end. Too bad—I was rooting for them."

"They don't stand a chance against a match-up like this."

"They got lucky in the last round, but this time, there's no way they're pulling through."

"They didn't stand a chance from the start."

From the sidelines, the announcer's voice boomed, calling the start of the match. Gore stepped into the arena, his presence commanding, his eyes cold and calculating. He unsheathed his twin blades, each glinting with the promise of death.

Frigid stood still, his expression unreadable, his hands loose by his sides. The contrast between the two fighters was stark: Gore, a storm of lethal energy, and Frigid, calm and unmoving, like the eye of the storm.