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Iron screeched as it made contact with another sword. The blade shuddered in his hand with the force of the blow. With the stalemate of their weapons, he leg-swept his opponent. She cursed as she fell to the ground. Cheers from all sides rang through his ears. He didn’t dare let it go to his head. The fight could turn at any point.
False sprang up using her wings, sword already moving. Technoblade ducked as the powerful limb smacked his side, throwing him to the ground in her place. Her eyes were hardened from years of fights, years in the arena. He couldn’t blame her, his were much the same. She cried out as her blade swiped dangerously close to his face. He saw it though and rolled, the metal sinking into his lower arm. The skin popped as it was sliced through, the bone crunching from the force of the swing. False grunted as the blade refused to extricate itself from the osseous matter.
Ignoring the spasms going through his arm, Techno rolled onto his hooves, tearing the limb from the blade’s grasp. The dance continued. Without the use of his left arm, the large axe was hard to wield. The weapon shook in his grasp as he continued to strike and parry. The dangerous cycle of swing, block, and strike went on for longer than any fight in a while.
No one in the crowd or personnel would have it any different. After all, the fight between The Blood God and the Queen of Heads, Hearts, and Body Parts had been highly advertised.
The two often spared and knew each other's fighting style much like their own, making the fight feel choreographed. To the crowd though, it was the show of a lifetime. Weapons swinging closer with fewer misses than in a normal gladiator fight. The danger never ceased even as they tired. The singing of metal scraping metal never quieted even as sweat slid down their faces and back. The fight never slowed despite the shaking of arms and legs.
Techno grunted heavily as False hit his collarbone with the pommel of her sword. The woman whispered, though his sensitive ears still heard the words begging him to give up for both their sake.
“You know that won’t end well for either of us if we finish the fight in a forfeit.”
She sighed, resigned and he could see the exhaustion creeping into her expression. Merely nodding, she propelled herself forward using her wings for extra force. They fell to the ground, rolling in a tangle of limbs. Both weapons fell and skittered off in an unseen direction. Swallowing his screams of pain as his arm painted the ground with blood and viscera, he fought to land with the upper ground.
Feathers ended up pinned under his knees. He made note to apologize as he felt the bones creak under the pressure. Techno’s hand ended up pressing her face into the ground. Heavy breaths filled the sudden silence.
The owner of the ring nodded from his perch next to the arena and confirmed he won, but signaled not to kill her. He wasn’t expecting to as both were prized fighters, but the confirmation had both gladiators breathing out in relief. Standing carefully, avoiding damaging False’s wings anymore, he stood and addressed the crowd. No words, but a bow of sorts to end the performance and confirm him as the victor.
The screaming from the crowd was both negative and positive, but he ignored it in favor of leaving the arena, tufted tail flicking with the relief of the tiring battle’s finish. Techno did his best to ignore the searing pain shooting through his arm as he waited for False to make it back into the underground area. Together, they walked to the weapon storage area to clean and put away their prized tools.
“Good fight today. You didn’t go easy on me.”
The avian woman looked at him with a smirk, “Oh, I definitely did. You would not have won otherwise.”
His laugh was broken by a grunt as his arm sent another wave of pain through his upper body. Trying to choke down the sound, only made it more noticeable, grabbing False’s attention.
“You should take care of that before it gets worse.”
The sound of a guard finally falling into step behind him, only made him grimace at the thought of trying to bargain for some medical supplies. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’m fine. The blade didn’t go that deep.” He was of course deploying the tactic of lying. The sound of the blade breaking through to the bone replayed in his mind. Spasms continued to wrack the limb sending more bolts of lightning hot pain through his body as he shuddered from the memory. Blood stuck his shirt sleeve to his arm and was still soaking it through. The loss of the liquid from his body was starting to make itself known in how lightheaded he was becoming.
“Suit yourself.”
“I do need ta apologize for pinnin’ you using your wings. I know that was a dirty play. I didn’t break anythin’, I hope.”
She stretched out the appendages, wincing as they trembled slightly. “Nothing that a little rest won’t fix. I’d say muscle bruising at worse.” She lowered her voice significantly knowing the piglin hybrid would still be able to hear her, but the human guard wouldn’t. “It finished the fight without one of us needing to forfeit or get deathly injured. I’ll let it slide this time, just don’t do it again.”
Nodding minutely, he made a mental promise to avoid the delicate limbs in the future. He knew that if he were in her position, he would probably feel the same.
They walked in silence, Techno attempting to ignore the distant screams of new fighters that ended up in the medical room if it could be called that. The doors to their rooms, which were more like cells if he let himself think about it, came up on their left and right. They said farewell with a grip on each other’s forearms and a quick nod of the head before entering their respective rooms.
Once the click of the lock on his door signaled to him that he was truly alone, he finally looked at the butchered arm. His shirt had been torn and the sleeve hung around his wrist. Blood dyed the slightly off-white fabric a dark crimson that he knew would dry to the color of rust. Through the thin, threadbare cloth which was almost transparent, the streams of scarlet interrupting paler-than-usual skin could be easily traced.
Carefully as not to pull on the wound, he peeled his shirt from his body. Some of the blood had already started to dry and became tacky, sticking the cloth to his skin. Breathing through clenched teeth he examined the injury.
The skin had been cleanly torn through. The flesh is pulled back by the weight of the limb hanging from weakened muscles. The gap this left revealed sinewy viscera and the stark white of bone. Crimson sat within a fracture of the hard organic material. If the avian’s blade had managed to make contact and sever through the skin and tissue only an inch or two to the right, it would have lodged itself into his elbow joint. As it was, he was sure the sword had eviscerated several nerves and crucial muscles. The severity of the injury would surely leave lasting damage.
Gritting his teeth, Techno grabbed his spare medical supplies before attempting to treat the mangled limb.
Many years later, the piglin hybrid stood from where he was planting potatoes. Grunting with the pain of chronic issues left from the fight. He had many issues, both mental and physical, left from his time in the arena, but that was one of the worst. False had managed to get out far before he did and he hadn’t seen her. Techno couldn’t help but think about the avian woman with the painful reminder of their last fight.
He could only hope that no news or contact was a good thing, perhaps she had found somewhere to hide from the organizers just as he had.