Chapter Text
The earth shook with the stomping of tens of thousands of feet. Voices rang out from every direction as a great host of people from all walks of life made their way to whatever seats were open. Hawkers and peddlers ambled up and down, shouting their wares with booming voices while a small legion of armored guards kept an attentive watch for any troublemakers.
It was another day at the Arena. Everyone, from the high-class ladies donning parasols in their private booths to the vagrant children who’d sneaked in under the soldiers’ noses, eagerly chatted as they awaited the start of a new match.
“...They’re too loud.”
Far below the seats, inside the underground tunnels that hosted both the competitors and the labourers who supported them, was a woman. She was leaning, eyes closed, against one of the many pillars that supported the giant coliseum. Were an ignorant observer to pass by her, they would surely be unable to tell which social class she belonged to, for while the nobles had brought their best gowns and suits and the peasants were, as always, clad in their simple tunics, she wore a red and white apron-like dress that left her sides exposed, alongside baggy pants and a pair of long, flowy detached sleeves that seemed to serve no purpose. Even more curious than this outfit, however, was her hair. Though she was evidently young, it was entirely of a blue-tinted white color, with the exception of a jet black strand in her bangs.
At the side of such a woman was a large spear, its tip glinting in the torchlight, and if this left any doubts as to her identity, the tattoo of that same weapon inked below her left eye cleared them. She was Spear, one of the many Weapon Maidens who made their living by fighting in the Arena.
Her calm and relaxed posture gave no hints of anxiety, for indeed she was one of the Arena’s most experienced warriors. Oh, her first matches had certainly been nervewracking; she hadn’t forgotten the feeling of standing at the entrance of the Arena, sweat falling in large drops from her forehead as she awaited the announcer’s voice. But those days were long past, and now the crowd’s roars were a mere annoyance.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She opened one eye to see a young staff member.
“It is time, Miss Spear.” He said matter-of-factly.
Spear nodded, picking up her weapon and making her way to the edge of the gate. Antsy chattering came from beside her. She did not need to spare a look to know who it was; a group of magi, their figures hidden in uniform gray cloaks. Their role was simple, but vital: as soon as the winner was declared, they would jump in, healing the defeated with their spells. No one wanted to see their favorite Weapon Maiden die, after all.
Just then, the announcer’s voice rang out, loud enough to overpower the cacophonous hubbub of the stadium.
“SPEAR VERSUS GROWER! WHO WILL WIN?”
Spear squinted, the glaring sun nearly blinding her as she entered the Arena to a chorus of cheers. She ignored them, her gaze unwavering. She didn’t fight for the crowd. Her goal was the same since she’d first stepped into that sand pit: to become number one, the Queen of the Arena. Neither praises nor jeers would help her achieve it.
Her opponent that evening was Grower. The young girl sheepishly approached the center of the field. It was the first time Spear saw her up close. Her hair was cut short, just below her jaw, and was of a green-dark color not unlike an emerald. She had long bangs, which completely covered her right eye. The left one, though partially obscured behind strands of hair like a child hiding behind too small a tree, was still visible enough that Spear could see the tension and worry in it. She wore her usual oversized green coat, despite the warm weather. It was a strange garment, with fabric mimicking teeth on both the hood and the tail that sprouted from its back. Whether that was purely for show or she really had a tail she wished to protect from the elements was an ongoing debate among fans.
Her most particular feature, however, was her horns. Two dark, curved protrusions jutted out from her head, tapering to a dangerous-looking sharp tip.
I’ll have to be careful around those once she’s grown. Spear noted to herself. Grower was a good head shorter than her now, but all present knew she wouldn’t stay that way for long.
She watched as the timorous girl’s eye jumped from the audience, to the ground, then to her, and then back to the ground. Some calls of encouragement made their way to her ears, but the crowd had largely ignored her opponent.
I feel bad for her. Spear thought.
Grower had participated in seven duels thus far, and she’d lost every single one. Despite her ability to grow until she towered over even the gigantic Arena itself, her movements were slow and clumsy, and her huge body made her an easy target. Even Bow, a gentle girl who had also found little success in single combat, bested her almost effortlessly. She’d barely needed to aim her arrows.
Spear extended a hand to her hapless opponent.
“Let’s have a good match.”
“Y-yes, let’s,” Grower replied, surprise tinging her voice as she accepted the handshake.
Moments after they separated, the announcer spoke once again, their voice reverberating around the Arena.
“FIGHT!”
A single heartbeat later, Spear was on her opponent. Grower jumped back with a cry, attempting to dodge, but she was almost comically slow. The spear pierced through her clothes and met flesh near the thigh— lower than where Spear had aimed.
Is she growing already? She frowned.
Making use of this momentary distraction, Grower closed in, managing to land a chop on Spear’s shoulder. It was no ordinary blow; the average person would have fallen to the ground writhing in pain. Yet, Spear barely felt it. Compared to Unarmed, whose punches were akin to a raging bull or a falling tree, Grower’s hit might as well have been the soft brush of a feather. She quickly countered with a kick that sent Grower flying with a grunt, followed by consecutive thrusts of the spear. All met their mark, and her opponent stumbled backwards, her face crumpled in frustration and pain. Alas, Spear gave her no time to recover, and all Grower could do was use her arms to cover her vital spots.
Despite her apparent advantage, though, Spear knew it wasn’t quite over yet. True to her alias, Grower was now a head taller than her, and getting bigger by the second. Were she to manage a second hit, it would not be as easily brushed off as the first.
As if she’d read her thoughts, Grower evaded her spear and jumped in, attempting a jab. Spear dodged it with relative ease before distancing herself to regain her balance. Looking up, she was surprised to find Grower had already doubled in size.
She really grows fast, huh.
Even so, Spear kept up her assault. To those watching, her weapon was a mere blur, a snake striking and recoiling before they had even realized it’d moved. They could only track her movements by the increasingly numerous red spots on Grower’s body. Grower’s strength was also increasing in correlation with her size, but it scarcely mattered. Spear kept rolling, jumping, and swerving, her spear hacking at Grower at every opportunity. She could feel her opponent wincing with each hit, even as she could no longer reach above her pantyhose-clad legs.
Spear somersaulted backwards, avoiding a giant fist that could have easily flattened her. Sand flew up into the air. Grower was now a veritable colossus, her head towering above even the tallest seats of the Arena, her arms and legs as large and thick as the pillar she’d been leaning on before the fight.
As menacing as the sight was, Spear did not worry. She could tell by her movements that the girl’s injuries were just about to get the better of her. A couple more spear thrusts and she’d be felled, regardless of whether she could touch the clouds or not.
Spear relaxed. Fighting Grower was like slashing away at a tree, she thought. It wouldn’t fall easily, but there was also little danger in it.
She let her mind wander as she leaped out of the way of Grower’s sluggish arm, though not before drawing a line of red across it. She thought of the ones she would have to beat in order to become Queen. The title was coveted by all those who entered the Arena, and for good reason; not only did its holder have all their living expenses paid, there were also all sorts of extravagant rewards and monetary prizes that multiplied the longer you held it. Naturally, becoming Queen was not an easy feat. As the honor was given exclusively to the Weapon Maiden with the highest win rate, one needed to not only win against strong opponents, but to do so consistently.
Spear had already defeated Unarmed, the current Queen, more than once. Just last week, she’d crushed Duplicator, whose consecutive victories had had the fans nickname her the “Terror of the Arena”. Unfortunately, she was still held down by her performance during her early days. Her repeated losses to the likes of Dagger and Staff had been both frustrating and painful, and she’d trained day and night since then. The results were clear. She felt stronger, quicker, nimbler than she’d ever been. Even Lance, her proud sister, had admitted she now had what it took to make it all the way to the top.
Once I defeat Grower, I’ll only need—
The world went dark.
Driven by more instinct than reason, Spear bolted as fast as she could. A tremor shook the earth, and she looked behind her shoulder to see Grower’s boot mere inches away from her. Had she delayed even a second longer, she would have been crushed under it.
That was close. She thought, shaking her head. I shouldn’t get distracted. It’s time to end this.
Spear made to jump back one more time, to gain some distance between her and Grower before launching a final attack.
Huh?
The back of her foot hit something hard. It was the wall, she realized. She had, without noticing, retreated all the way to the edge of the square sand field that made up the Arena.
Perspiration ran across her back. Grower, sensing her adversary’s conundrum, approached her with arms stretched and fixed eyes. Spear couldn’t help but wonder if this was how the spider or the mosquito felt when they were cornered by a much larger foe intent on squashing them.
No matter. I’ll just stab her and escape when she flinches.
Spear rolled her weapon in her hand and stood, hands firm on the wooden handle. Perhaps comprehending this was both her last and best chance, Grower moved quicker than before, her titanic limbs eager to reach her adversary.
As soon as Grower’s hand was close enough, Spear thrust her weapon as hard as she could. However, instead of flinching, Grower seized hold of the spear’s shaft between her index and thumb and, with her other hand, grabbed Spear.
Spear gasped as the giant girl’s fingers enveloped her, gripping her so tight she could scarcely breathe. She strained against them, used all her force, but it was in vain. She could not break free of Grower’s grip more than she could escape a whirlpool or a tornado.
Grower lifted Spear up to her face. Her immense eyes, wide open in surprise, stared dumbly at her. A sweat drop as big as Spear herself fell from her face.
“...I really caught you,” Grower whispered, as if she still didn't quite believe it.
“You sure did,” Spear replied. She looked down. Her weapon was lying on the ground, almost directly below her. “Can you put me down now?”
“Ehh? But, um, you’ll just beat me up if I do… Can’t you forfeit? Please?” She asked, seeming almost embarrassed.
Spear couldn’t believe her ears. She’d experienced a lot on the sandy battlefield, but that was the first time someone had so politely requested her to surrender. She gazed intently at Grower, trying to detect any signs of mockery in her giant face, but all she saw was a worried, anxious child.
She could have insisted. Grower was naive enough that she could have likely coaxed her into letting her down and then proceeded to deal the finishing blow. But what would be the honor in that? She had lost thanks to her own misstep. It was certainly frustrating to be beaten by someone whom she clearly surpassed in fighting prowess, but tricking Grower into giving her the victory would be no different than a loss.
“...Fine. I forfeit. You are the winner.” Spear sighed.
“GROWER WINS!” Shouted the announcer.
At these words, the crowd, which had gone almost completely silent, erupted in cries of shock. Immediately after, Spear felt her bruises healing, the pain and fatigue disappearing in an instant. No doubt the mages, thinking she’d surely been crushed to near death, were casting their best spells at her. She shook her head. She’d barely gotten bruised.
Meanwhile, Grower was grinning the (quite literal) biggest grin Spear had ever seen.
“Yay! My first ever win!”
Grower gently placed Spear on her shoulder and waved her colossal hand to the crowd, causing a few hats to fly away.
“Does this mean we’re like, friends now?” Grower asked, turning her gigantic face to Spear.
“No.”
Spear sighed once again. Today had been a humiliating lesson on the dangers of underestimating an opponent, a lesson she ought to have already learned. And yet, as she looked at the gleeful countenance of Grower, she couldn’t bring herself to feel gloomy.
“Ah! You smiled just now!” Said Grower.
“I did not,” Spear replied, as stone-faced as ever.
“You sure did! So we are friends after all!”
Spear buried her face in her hands. “Oh, just put me down, you naive girl.”
“Okay! Oh, but can we go eat crepes after?” Grower asked.
“Huh? Why would we do such a thing?”
“My mom always said crepes taste the best after a victory! But I haven’t eaten any since I got here, since I kept losing…”
“Listen here, Grower, you have to be a little more…”
Spear paused. The giant girl was looking at her with such a hopeful expression that she couldn’t bring herself to chastise her. Her eyes were less those of a Weapon Maiden and more of a lost puppy.
Oh, screw it.
“Fine. We can go eat crepes.” She yielded.
“Yippee!”
Grower gently cupped Spear in her hands and let her down, before going back to waving at the cheering crowd.
Honestly… She’s too soft for her own good. Spear thought. Reminds me of how I was, back then.
She picked up her weapon and inspected it for damage. Then, making sure her back was turned to Grower, she smiled.
I hope she wins again.