The Extra Wants Control

Chapter 40: Battle Royale 4

The desert wind howled, carrying a fine grit that stung exposed skin. Astrid, the Dwarven Blessed, stood firm against the sandstorm, hair waving like a battle flag. Her opponent, Kim, the lithe Tigerkin Blessed, crouched low, her amber eyes narrowed in a predatory glint. Both women pulsed with an aura of vibrant blue, a testament to their status as chosen of the ancient spirits.

The air crackled with unspoken tension. The exam had pitted them against each other, a clash of wills on the burning sands. Moments earlier, the ground had trembled as Astrid charged, her warhammer, "Grudgebringer," a blur of whirling metal and dwarven fury. Kim, with the agility of a desert cat, had dodged and weaved, deflecting blows with bursts of concentrated aura.

They were evenly matched. Astrid, a force of immovable defense, her blows heavy and relentless. Kim, a whirlwind of offense, her strikes precise and lightning-fast. Grudgebringer clashed against unseen walls of air, the sand swirling in miniature cyclones around them. Kim landed a glancing blow on Astrid's shoulder, leaving a stinging red mark.

Astrid retaliated with a thunderous swing that sent Kim flying backwards, but the Tigerkin landed gracefully, rolling with the impact before springing back up.

Their auras, once vibrant blue, flickered with exhaustion. They were both pushing their limits, but neither seemed willing to concede. Astrid, fueled by dwarven pride and a healthy dose of stubbornness, roared a challenge. Kim, her face etched with a predatory grin, mirrored the gesture.

But just as they prepared to resume their dance of destruction, a guttural growl shattered the desert silence. A pack of sand wraiths, monstrous creatures born of the desert's malice, materialized from the swirling sandstorm. They lunged at the two Blessed, their translucent bodies radiating a chilling darkness.

Astrid cursed under her breath. Fighting each other was one thing, but these wraiths would only complicate matters. Kim, ever practical, seemed to reach the same conclusion. She raised a hand, her aura pulsing in a new pattern.

"Hold on, hammerhead," she said, her voice surprisingly melodic for a warrior. "These wraiths are worth more points than us fighting each other. Let's clear them first, then we can settle our little disagreement."

Astrid paused, considering. Grudgebringer hung heavy in her hand, but the logic of Kim's words resonated. These wraiths, with their ability to drain life force, were a bigger threat. Besides, there was always time to settle their score later.

With a grumbled acceptance, Astrid lowered her Warhammer. "Alright, cat. But don't think this is over."

Kim grinned, a flash of white against her tanned face. "Wouldn't dream of it, dwarf. Let's show these sand demons what real Blessed can do!"

Together, the two warriors charged into the fray. Astrid, a whirlwind of steel and dwarven battle cries, cleaved through the wraiths, her Warhammer imbued with crackling aura. Kim, a blur of claws and lightning-fast kicks, danced around the creatures, her aura forming shimmering blades that severed their ethereal forms.

The storm raged on, but now it was a storm of destruction, fueled by the combined might of two Blessed. The wraiths, designed to test individual prowess, fell before their unexpected cooperation.

When the last sand wraith crumpled into dust, Astrid and Kim stood panting, their auras dimmed but their spirits unbroken. They locked eyes, a newfound respect burning in their gazes.

"You fight well, dwarf," Kim admitted, a slight tremor of awe in her voice.

"Don't get too comfortable, cat," Astrid retorted, a hint of a grin tugging at her beard. "The real fight is still to come."

They both knew it was true. The exam wasn't over, and the desert held countless dangers – and perhaps more importantly, other participants with whom they might clash. But for now, they had formed a temporary truce, a bond forged in the crucible of battle.

The wind howled, carrying their unspoken challenge across the burning sands, a promise of a future fight between two warriors who had discovered a grudging respect for each other.

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A tremor shook the desert sands, a ripple of unease spreading through the remaining participants. The holographic countdown clock above had begun its descent, its relentless ticking a harbinger of doom. But more terrifying than ticking seconds was the shrinking of the designated exam zone. A crimson line, visible on the ground, pulsed like a malevolent heart, slowly encroaching on the battlefield.

Zehn, nursing a throbbing shoulder from a recent ambush, cursed under his breath. The past 24 hours had been a relentless trial. His ill-advised fight with Lara had left him depleted, and the constant ambushes by both monsters and opportunistic participants had pushed him to the limit.

Yet, through grit and a stubborn refusal to succumb, he'd amassed a decent amount of points – enough to get a decent rank. It wasn't easy he used everything he had be it traps, sneak attacks and luring monsters to other participants just to take the final kill after they got exhausted.

He watched, heart hammering, as figures stumbled and fell near the shrinking border, dissolving into motes of light. These weren't unlucky encounters with beasts – they were deliberate eliminations, executed with ruthless efficiency. The once vast arena had become a hunting ground, where participants stalked each other like silent predators. Trust had become a luxury few could afford.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught Zehn's eye. A group of figures, cloaked in black from head to toe, emerged from a rocky outcrop. A tremor of unease ran through him. These weren't scavengers. They moved with a practiced precision that screamed assassins.

His hand instinctively went to his side, where his blade was, but it was on the verge of breaking . Useless.

His gaze darted around desperately, but the relentless desert offered no hiding places.

Just as the figures spread out, encircling him, a sharp cry pierced the air. A woman, clad in gleaming silver armor, materialized beside him, her face grim. Lara.

"Seems like you have attracted some unwanted company," she said, her voice devoid of its usual arrogance.

Zehn stared at her, surprised. Then, a wry smile tugged at his lips. "Figures. Bad luck seems to be following me today."

" Why do I keep running into her?" Screamed Zehn inwardly.

Lara didn't answer. Instead, she raised her bow, unleashing a flurry of arrows tipped with wind magic. The assassins, who had apparently underestimated their quarry, stumbled back in surprise as the arrows tore through their ranks. They regrouped, their faces masked in fury, and charged.

The ensuing fight was a chaotic dance of desperation. Zehn, fueled by a surge of adrenaline and Lara's unexpected assistance, channeled the last dregs of his magic into a series of swirling wind gusts that hampered the assassins' movements. Lara, a whirlwind of deadly precision, cut through their defenses with her wickedly curved blade.

The battle was brutal and short-lived. Four out of the five assassins fell, their life force dissolving into wispy tendrils that dissipated into the arid air. The remaining one, his face a mask of hatred, lunged at Lara. She sidestepped his attack, but the momentum carried him close to Zehn.

In a desperate gamble, Zehn channeled the last ember of his magic, weaving it into a small, but concentrated ball of fire. With a grunt, he hurled it at the assassin. The fireball struck its mark, engulfing the figure in flames. He screamed, a sound ripped from the depths of his agony, before collapsing onto the sand, lifeless.

Exhausted, Zehn slumped against a rock, his chest heaving.

" Why help me?" Asked Zehn.

" I didn't help you, I just took some points" said Lara as she disappeared leaving Zehn standing alone and confused.

" Does she like me?" Thought Zehn.

" I mean I'm handsome and talented, she is beautiful but I don't want to get involved with her. " Thought Zehn misunderstanding the situation.

He peeked from behind the rock, taking in the scene. The valley floor was a chaotic mess of spells and screams. Alliances were forming and collapsing in the blink of an eye, each betrayal punctuated by a desperate cry.

Zehn knew this was just the beginning. The final showdown was about to commence, a battle not just against other participants but also against his own exhaustion and the ever-shrinking boundaries of their prison. He gripped the hilt of his dagger, the worn leather a familiar comfort. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

The real fight, the fight to survive and become an Arcana student, was about to begin.

In a distance, Lara, a lone island of calm amidst the storm, was shooting any and all living things in her sight, her elven bow skills were a sight to behold.