Soon after, the fight between the Furies and the two sisters had started. Accompanied by a thunderous cheer from the audience, four warriors had begun their combat.
The first clash came fast. Thao-La, the older of the two siblings, swung her axe after closing the distance with Barda. The sharp edge of the axe flew howling through the air, only to be caught mid-swing by the heavy head of the mace.
Metal screeched as sparks spat outward. The two had tightened their jaws, not one of them wanting to relent under pressure from their opponent. The metal arena floor bent beneath their boots as they pushed against each other.
Barda pressed her mace against the opponent harder, putting all her weight into it. Then she proceeded to let go of it with one hand, punching Thao-La in her unprotected face. The elder sister was forced to dodge, yielding the tempo advantage to the Apokoliptian.
But before Barda's mace could strike again, Otho-Ra, the younger sister, darted forward. A spear in her hands flashed in a narrow thrust aimed at a gap between the taller woman's shoulder guard and chest plate. The strike was precise, deadly, but the magical protection that Darkseid and Suli had put on the armor held on. The gaps on Barda's armor had been magically protected from being used as weak points.
Otho-Ra momentarily came to a halt, not believing her eyes. Something had stopped her strike. Usually, her strikes were precise and deadly, but this opponent's armor was clearly superior to anything that she had ever dealt with.
The last combatant that had yet to make a move, Aurelie, was moving through shadows, and her dagger granted her ease of movement without attracting too much attention. She had slipped in between the two sisters. With two daggers in her hands, she swiped at the smaller opponent. Metal of the daggers scraped against metal of the chainmail, penetrating it.
Otho-Ra felt two sudden stings at her side and had to recoil to avoid the following slash that nearly cut across the back of her throat. Aurelie didn't want to kill this young girl outright, so she had given her time to react and back off.
The crowd roared, some cheering for stunning alien warriors, the others were supporting local gladiators. The first exchange of strikes in the battle went heavily in Apokoliptian favor.
Thao-La had reset her footing, preparing for round two. She was pissed; her younger sister was badly wounded, her sides bleeding out. It was time to take the combat into her own hands; Otho-Ra wouldn't be able to help much from this point on.
The axe rose in a reckless sideways swing, meeting the mace head-on again. This time, she let the blow of the mace roll past her, twisting her body and the axe to bring it down at the burly woman's flank.
But Barda's armor once again took the brunt of the damage itself, shielding her from the impact of the axe. Barda swung her mace in a counterattack, this time successfully hitting the opponent in the chest. The metal folded under the pressure of the strike, and pain and blood flew from the impacted body part.
A merciless knee kick, driven like a battering ram, came into Thao-La's stomach, bending the armor there too. Warworld gladiator collapsed in two like a shut flip book, a burst of blood and saliva escaping her open mouth from pain. Breath exploded from her lungs, and she fell to the ground, axe dropped to the ground. The mace came down again, a crushing vertical strike. This time, it was only the handle of the mace that impacted the back of the head of the opponent, knocking her out of the fight.
Meanwhile, Aurelie had continued her onslaught on the younger sister. Otho-Ra's spear was struggling to block the dagger-wielder's fury of blows. The captain of Darkseid's Duries was dancing in a deadly hurricane of daggers. She moved like a snake, closing distance, feinting, retreating, only to dart back in with lightning speed, slashing the opponent.
Aurelie only intended to make the opponent forfeit the fight, but seeing the stubborn fire in the eyes of Otho-Ra, she had decided to employ another strategy.
Dashing past all attempted defenses, she took her opponents by the neck with one hand. The dagger in the other hand had pierced the wound on the side that she had made with her first successful slash. A cry of pain had escaped the teenager's mouth.
"Forfeit", Aurelie demanded of the younger girl.
Choking and feeling pain of a knife being twisted in her side, Otho-Ra gestured her withdrawal from the match. She tossed away her spear and flapped her hand on the opponent's chokehold. She knew that the fight was lost. She was not prepared to lose her life here, not now when she was needed at home. Hopefully, her sister was alive and well, too, without the two of them… It was hard to think of what would happen to their family.
The crowd had gone into an uproar once again. Most of the audience was cheering. The fight was swift and dominant.
***
After the first battle, Barda and Aurelie had gone back to their lounge to rest for the day and watch a match of their master on the translation.
Darkseid's much came much later; four hours and a dozen matches had been between the two. It was the fourteenth, and the last match of the day.
Darkseid was put into a team together with Tina. It seemed like he and his warriors were deemed to be the main attraction of the tournament. People wanted to see them fight, and the tournament organizers had responded in turn, making their fights the main events.
Darkseid stood in the arena, his presence was weight itself, a force that drew the eye and attention of everybody present. His armor was forged in the heat of the same lava pit that he had bonded with his weapon in. There, he had set up his small smithy, tinkering away on armor and weapons in his own free time.
Plates layered over plates, sharp-edged and seamless, runic arrays on each plate, protecting and enhancing them. The top of his body was covered with a dark short cloak, hiding his head and shoulders behind the textile. This cloak was made by Tina in her own workshop. It was a decent piece of clothing. Suli and Darkseid had participated in the process of its creation, weaving in their spells into the fabric.
He held his gun dao polearm at his side, prepared for battle. Looking at his opponents, it seemed like it would be a better fight today than the one Barda and Aurelie had.
Right beside him stood his teammate, one of his Furies, Tina. Today, she was in her full armor, covered from head to toe. Only two of her horns stood armorless; she was truly a living tank.
Her helm was squat and angular, with two slits for her vision. Her gauntlets were massive, but flexible enough to allow for proper handling of her shield, as well as grasping and wrestling with her opponents.
The shield in her hands was her only weapon. The design of it was specially created for her. It was a colossal triangular slab of metal nearly as tall as she was. The shield's borders were lined with grooves that could pierce stone or cleave through steel with a single swing, making it as much a blade as a bulwark. She looked like a living citadel, built to defend her Emperor and to annihilate anything that dared approach her in close combat.
Their opponents were two completely different combatants; it seemed like they hardly knew each other. But they must have impressed the organizers in some way to be put up against them.
The first of their opponents looked like a stone giant in the flesh. His body was tall and broad, his musculature was well defined, clearly honed through numerous battles. His skin was crimson with a yellow tint to it, and his face was framed by a wild mane of golden hair akin to a lion. Jagged horns curled back from his temples; it was unclear if they were his own or part of his helm. The man was grinning with a maniacal grin; he looked eager for battle. Something that Darkseid fully understood, the adrenaline rush of mortal combat was sweet and addictive.
He wore grey armor with furs and pelts on every single part of it. Maybe they were trophies from his hunts, or maybe it was just an aesthetic. Layered mail shimmered beneath plates carved with runic motifs, although Darkseid didn't feel any magic coming out of them. Perhaps these were just ornamental.
In his hands were twin axes, one in each hand. The axes didn't look like anything special, but Darkseid was sure that the weapons would prove deadly regardless of their lack of uniqueness.
The final combatant was a white Martian from the distant planet of Mars. It was a planet neighboring Terra, housing a race of aliens with a strong set of powers. It was a race of shapeshifters and telepaths, strong in their own right; there were no people in the universe stronger mentally than Martians. But the Martians lacked unity, riddled with endless racial wars; their civilization had been unable to advance past their star system due to the lack of proper technology.
The Martian's skin was pale as bone, and thin as one; his skin was seemingly stretched across his frame that defied proportion. There was hardly any flesh or fat in his body. Long limbs dangled and twitched unnaturally, each ending in clawed fingers. His face was pointy and angular, his mouth too wide. His eyes were black pits, bottomless voids that seemed to look through his foes, uncaring of his opposition.
He wore no armor and held no weapon, and that was a given. Martians were shapeshifters, capable of telepathy and phasing. They did not require any weapons.
Darkseid grinned in anticipation. Finally, he had someone interesting to fight with.