For the first time since his heart was purified, the orc rushed forward with the intent to fight. He roared, throwing a wild haymaker, though it passed right by the cyclop's tilted head.
"Hah, that had some balls behind it–about time!" Freja teased with a fiery smirk.
"Urg–!"
Redrum spat out, finding the end of the club being driven into his gut with enough force behind it to make his heart skip a beat. As he grabbed at his stomach, the wooden weapon was swung up, dragging along his chest before smacking against his chin.
This time, the room around him faded in-and-out as he stumbled back, hardly able to find the balance to hold himself upright.
["...It's been this way since I was shown the light. I lost my favor with my god…I forsook violence, and so he forsook me–the strength I had was stripped from me. As I am now, I'm no different from the average of my race."]
With saliva dribbling at his chin, the orc aggressively shook his head, washing away the flickering of his own consciousness. As he came to, the heavy footsteps of the approaching giantess led him to cross his two highest arms over his head just as the club was swung downward–crack.
"Nnrgh…!" Redrum clenched his teeth, his fractured forearms quickly bruising.
"You took that? Good on you–" Freja said confidently before her expression shifted at the violet glow just beneath the orc's foremost arms.
Between his two lower hands, a gathering of purple fire shined brightly with bubbling heat, being sent forward by his guiding palms:
"Furonus!" Redrum invoked.
It roared like a ravenous beast at last unbound from its shackles; the flame cast itself upon the cyclops, thrusting its wrath onto the woman like a raging bull.
"Fuuuaa…" The orc exhaled, deprived of breath.
Ahead, the trailing remnants of the purple fire faded, though the cyclops was not on the ground, against his better expectations. In fact, the one-eyed woman had a bigger grin than before, completely giddy like a child on the eve of Christmas.
Freja tossed her club to the side, slamming her fist into the palm of her hand, "Alright! You're a candidate!"
"A…candidate?" Redrum repeated.
"Yeah!" Freja responded, rolling her shoulders as her overly-developed muscles tightened and flexed. "Just to make sure–let's do this, fist-to-fist, strength-to-strength!"
"Ngh?!"
Without the chance to protest whatever the challenge was, Redrum put his guard up as the quick-footed giantess closed the distance with agile footwork. The perplexed orc hid behind his quadruple forearms, which were promptly battered by constant jabs from the cyclops.
Each hit rang through his arms, smacking into his bones like cannonfire, slowly but surely breaking through his guard.
"Hey, now! This ain't even a fight! You're just shrinking away!" Freja protested with a huff, going under the orc's guard with an uppercut delivered right to his gut.
The impact served as a wakeup for Redrum, who spat out, moving his arms out of reflex, yet–that was a mistake. All he saw was that singular, verdant iris before a fist smashed into his nose.
["Since that day, the thought of violence is one I avoid like the plague. It reminds me of that feeling; the overwhelming sorrow, the encumbering guilt. To use these hands to inflict harm…I despite it, but more than that–to burden the man that dragged me from darkness, I despise that even more."]
While the raw strength of the one-eyed woman was certainly superior, the orc relied on one, simple concept: she was outarmed, doubly so.
"Raaaah!" Redrum rushed forward, throwing all four fists in a wild, aimless flurry.
There was no defense from Freja, who welcomed the blows with a smile, throwing her own in response. Somehow, the orc didn't feel animosity behind those harsh fists, even as they smacked against his body with brutal strength.
It didn't take more than a minute in their defenseless exchange of punches before both were bloody and bruised. In unison, the orc and cyclops threw their fists forward–at the same time, they struck one another.
"Pyuh!"
"Ghh!"
Blood left his mouth, though the same could be said for Freja as her bottom lip was busted. Redrum pulled back, letting his arms hang as tired breaths left. For the one-eyed warrior, she spit out a tooth onto the ground, though grinned without any sign of exhaustion, only holding one hand out in an invitation.
"Oh, yeah, you're a candidate, alright," Freja remarked, grabbing a chunk of a destroyed pillar casually before dropping it, leaning her elbow on the ivory with her hand ready. "C'mon! Let's see if you're worthy of being my mate!"
"Mate–?" Redrum repeated.
"You heard that right! Gotta make sure you're made of tough stuff before giving you the real test!" Freja wiggled her fingers as an invitation. "Sit down with your strongest arm and let's see if you're the one I'm looking for!"
Redrum was hesitant, though he accepted the challenge, placing his elbow in front of the cyclops' own before grasping her open hand. The moment his grip tightened, the woman's expression contorted into one of sheer strain.
All at once, the cyclops pushed against his hand with the might of a hundred men. He clenched his teeth, flexing his arm to its utmost just to not be effortlessly overwhelmed.
"Grrrrh!" The orc struggled, veins bulging in his head that never came out so intensely.
Freja joined him, gritting her teeth through a competitive smile, "Nnnrgh…That's the stuff!"
It took everything Redrum had for his elbow not to be torn right out of its socket, somehow inch by inch, bringing their hands back to square one before–
"And puuuuush!" Freja exhaled sharply, instilling herself with motivation.
All at once, the orc's efforts were extinguished with his hand being slammed into the makeshift table. The ivory pillar shattered along with each bone in his palm, thoroughly leaving a mess of powderized material.
"Ha-ha! Yet again, I'm the strongest around town!" Freja celebrated in triumph, standing up and flexing her arms.
Redrum hung his head in defeat, grasping his throbbing hand, "I have lost…A WOLF rank is my fate."
"wOLF? Not a chance," Freja corrected, still flexing, now pointing her arms up as if partaking in an olympic show. "Your path as an adventurer starts at Golem rank, baby!"
"Golem–? Haah, a…respectable outcome," Redrum claimed with a sense of victory himself before slumping over.