The crowd cheered so uproariously the arena rumbled. Zaphrriyah grew attentive of the music that had been playing the whole time, the very same that was broadcasted throughout Club Sanguinis, the very same she had been subconsciously pursuing, and it was being performed right here at the arena on the platform of the bottom tier of the amphitheater closest to the arena. The platform was overshadowed by the difference in light and height, but the musician's silhouette could still be seen lounging over a throne with their instrument across their lap. Zaphrriyah was intrigued by the musician. She had been curious about the music ever since she heard it for the first time, and now that the musician was here, she felt an indescribable attraction to them, to their mystique, to their art. Unfortunately, her gaze was soon diverted to the next opponent who shouted a challenge from across the arena. Zaphrriyah gave them a single glance and decided they weren't worth her time, instead making a run for the stage and leaping out of the arena to reach the musician.
As she neared the edge of the arena's boundary, a giant tusk of bone shot out from the high domed ceiling and impaled her out of the air. The pain was a shock, but Zaphrriyah quickly got over it and pushed herself off the tusk, climbing onto it and resumed her pursuit, but another tusk came, though this one she was prepared for, vaulting over and rebounding off of it. A third tusk came, not for her this time, but simply to block her way. It wasn't as thick as the others, and she easily scaled around it, but then thousands more rained down from the dome above, forming a high cage over the entire edge of the arena. She tried cutting through it, but her blades were not sharp enough, and blunt forcing it didn't make so much as make a crack in a single tusk. Through the ribs of the cage, Zaphrriyah caught a glimpse of the musician's lips, curled into a smirk. They strummed another chord, its shear volume blasting through the air, shaking the amphitheater and forcing Zaphrriyah to fall from the tusk back into the arena.
She gazed studiously at the musician behind the bars of bone, ignoring her next opponent until they lost patience and whacked their staff at the back of her head. Zaphrriyah reacted instinctively, half because she was so enamored by the musician, and half because the blow knocked her brain funny. She pirouetted halfway facing her opponent, anticipating their next strike and hacked her blade into their staff, splitting it apart. The fighter swiftly retrieved the halves of their broken staff in the air and thrust forward with their splintered tips down at her. Zaphrriyah side-stepped away, but their sticks ricocheted off the ivory ground and into her body with nearly as much force as their initial strike, staggering her a moment just long enough for the fighter to close the distance with a roundhouse kick across her face. They then swiftly packed a four-hit combo with a jab, right, hook and upper cut that launched her off her feet, where they grabbed her around the waist and threw her into a neck-breaking suplex. They allowed her to recover on the ground, so she did and got back up to her feet only to be put back down immediately with a whack to the face. Frustrated and anxious about embarrassing herself in front of her favored musician, Zaphrriyah returned her focus to the fight, squinting through the bright lights to find her opponent standing with his back to her. She feigned getting up with a kick, cancelling the movement with a split that flipped her forward, staying on the ground as the fighter struck where she would have been, using the opportunity to slice his ankles. The fighter jumped over her slashes and out of range, punishing her with another stick throw that bounced back into his hand after pummeling her in the head.
She sighed and tried again, getting onto one knee first. When the fighter did not react, she pushed up to her feet. That was when he struck. She reacted swiftly, hacking her blade into his stick, but he bashed the hilt of the other into her stomach. Zaphrriyah beard through the pain and slashed for their neck in a reaping sweep. The fighter released the stick stuck in her blade and unexpectedly bent backwards completely under the path of her blade, kicking her leg to upset her balance, twirling into a half-pirouette and smashed his stick into the back of her head. She refused to fall, following the fighter with her own pirouette, thrusting her blade at his stomach. He backstepped out of reach as she anticipated, but her second blade came swinging from a chain of blood right across his neck.
As her opponent toppled to the ivory ground, Zaphrriyah turned right back to the stage, bowing with her bloodied blades at the musician. The music hastened. The crowd roared. The battle continued.
A titan dropped into the arena. He was monstrous sinner, akin to the Beasts of the Woods, standing well over ten feet tall, his skin a thick, pale grey like a corpse or a ghoul, with dead, rotten fisheyes in the midst of a mushed, scarred head. He beard a ghastly grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth in a massive maw. He wielded a spiked club that was even larger than him, which left indents in the ground where he set it down. A titan he might have been, it didn't change anything. He was just another enemy in her way that needed to be cut down.
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Zaphrriyah made haste with quick, short dashes in zig-zag, closing the distance against the titan. He wasn’t stupid as to swing blindly at what he couldn’t hit, and this Zaphrriyah sensed, keeping high vigilance as she neared his ankles. Still, he waited, so Zaphrriyah struck, slicing her blades deep into his Achilles’ heel. Suddenly, faster than she could have ever imagined, the titan lifted his feet, pacing back, slamming his club right down into her, crushing her whole. Beneath the massive, spiked club, Zaphrriyah minimalized the amount of bones that was crushed by sacrificing her flesh and blood to cushion to the bludgeoning force. Then as the titan lifted up his club to check the damage, she remained clinging to the face of the club, using the moment it took for the titan to realize her position to peel herself off the club, swinging from the spikes onto his wrist, where she gored her blades into his flesh, slicing rings upon rings over his wrist until she carved all the way down to the bones. By then, the titan had caught up, grabbing her with his other hand and squeezing. She resisted stubbornly for as long as she could, stabbing her blades into his palm and keeping his hand from closing around her. However, it was inevitable that she would fold under the strength of the titan, and he closed his fist, crushing her.
Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, forced out through every pore in her body under intense pressure, exploding in a sanguine blast that blew apart two of the titan’s fingers and forced his hand, freeing Zaphrriyah. Her shawl rapidly drank up the blood she’d expelled as she landed on the titan’s forearm, slashing the tips of her khukuri into his flesh as she ran up his arm, dragging her blades beside her. The titan tried to swat her off with the stub of his other arm, but she ran underneath, latching on with sticky feet and razor blades, making a full roundabout by the time she reached his neck. There, she thrust both her blades forth, square into his jugular veins, crossing and tearing as the titan’s blood poured out like a small, streaming river over her. She drank her fill and pushed on, using the cover of blood and the titan’s blind spot to dance across the other side of his shoulder, avoiding his hands. There, she jumped onto the side of his face, scaling up with her blades until she reached his eye. She skewered her blades forth, shredding apart his iris in a violent flurry of slashes and leapt into his eye socket as the titan tried to stop her. Inside, she carved her way to his fovea, cutting off nerve bundles until she found the foramina, slipping through blades first, stabbing into the gushy tissue of his brain.
A vermillion bloodbath began. The dance of her blades turned brains into minced meat, and the free space only helped her gain momentum as Zaphrriyah spun and weaved her blades, blending the inside of the titan’s skull into a smoothie of blood and brains. Soon there was only an empty dome left, and in the darkness, she felt the titan topple. She jammed her blades into the root of the neck, flooding the dome with one last gush of blood as she cut her way out into the titan’s neck and out the back of it, emerging into the bright, red lights of the ivory arena three shades bloodier. The blood gradually seeped into her shawl and skin, leaving just the red of her runes across her body.
Music amplified. The crowd went wild. Challengers entered the arena one after the other, each a glorious battle Zaphrriyah savored till the last drop of blood. They were all skilled and talented fighters, each bringing techniques and strategies she had never seen before, some that would have certainly bested her should the rules of this arena have been any different. No matter what they hit her with, Zaphrriyah would always get back up. Perhaps she would wear them down. Perhaps she would find a counter. Regardless, they were all inevitably cut down by her blades. Their blood would spill and she would drink it, replenishing her strength for the next fight. They were fearless, undeterred by her apparent immortality, eager and determined to battle the witch if it was the last thing they did. As they fell, their bodies were scraped away by the tusks of the arena, clearing the grounds for the next fight.
More kept coming. Blood kept pouring. Music kept playing. Blood dyed the arena red. The crowd thinned. The temple turned empty. Soon there was only the sound of music left. Then it stopped.
The musician stood up from their throne on the stage and raised their instrument high. Then in a flash, they cleaved into the bone cage as if they wielded a war axe, breaking apart the bars of bone in a blazing inferno of fire that continued to burn on their exposed ends as they leapt through the flames and landed in the arena. The musician slung her instrumental axe over her shoulder and smiled at Zaphrriyah. She was tall, her muscles hard and toned in the red lights, glimmering like caramel. Her hair burned scarlet like her flames, swiveling around her neck, wild and wolfish. Her eyes burned just as red, hot and passionate. She was clad in dark, embroidered, violet satin, flowing over her arms, trimmed at the shoulders, elbows and cropped at her midriff where a glimmering golden, fetter piercing dangled over hard, bronze abs. Her bosom was wrapped by sleek, black leather, blending with the shiny, satin fabric. Draping down her legs was fabric cut of the same satin, held by a pink, silken sash around her waist, outlining the shape of her legs at elaborate places where they were tighter or exposed – be it for appeal of ease of movement – flaring below her knees. At her feet were a pair of golden, serpent scaled slippers, their tips pointed and slightly curved, fitted perfectly below her ankles. Her instrument was stringed, larger than normal, glistening like steel, either side of its bout shaped and sharpened into the blades of a war axe.
"That was one hell of a show ya put on! How brutal, how merciless, how extravagant! Oh, you've got me all worked up. I want a taste of it myself."
"My blades, my skin, my heart, everything I have is for you to taste. All I ask is to hear more of your music. It is as beautiful as the one who plays it, inspiring in the heat of battle – it makes my heart throb. I want to hear more."
"Thanks, sweetheart, but this axe only sings when I feel like making it sing. And right now, I'm feeling like hearing some steel clash."
"So mote it be."
