37th Trial of Ymiden, 720
Underground Fighting Arena
Underground Fighting Arena
Isodol stood back as she watched the man’s fist connect with the other man’s face. It happened so quickly, if she were to have blinked, she wouldn’t have known why one man was lying face down on the ground. The crowd went wild, applauding like they were thunder itself. She didn’t join in. She had been making internal bets with herself on who she thought was going to win the fight, and she had lost. Being new still to the area, she didn’t know the local residents or their fighting techniques. She had thought she had made the right call, though: the man was built tough, with broad shoulders, an almost disturbingly muscular back, and a mean face. But yet, here he was, lying unconscious on the ground, his opponent pounding his fists together in triumph.
She blew out hot air, mentally scolding herself for being wrong, but thanking herself all the same for not actually betting on anyone until she was sure she knew what she was doing.
She pushed her way to the front of the crowd, so that she was almost touching the rope that sectioned off the boxing ring from the audience.
The referee started counting down from the middle of the ring. Three... two... one... Time had run out at the man was still lying prone on the ground, un-moving.
Isodol sighed and took her eyes off the match. An unusual thought entered her mind then, a thought she wouldn’t have normally found herself thinking what with always preferring to be on the outside of betting. But what if she were to be the one in the ring? What if she were to bet on herself to fight? Knowing almost nothing of brawling or unarmed combat, she wistfully shook the idea away. How silly. But still...
Suddenly a new match was being set up. On the left side of the ring stood a hulk of a man, his eyebrows set into a malevolent knit. His mouth formed a straight line of indifference as he mashed his gloved hands together in preparation. His opponent stood at the other side of the ring as per custom. He was significantly shorter but held the same muscle mass. He bestowed a smirk, like he knew something his adversary didn’t.
The referee, or whoever it was who mediated the fight, announced the two fighters. The burly one was named Zain and the smaller, smirking one was named Valmond. They both raised one of their gloved hands into the air during the moment when their named was being called out to the audience. Many more cheers erupted when Zain's name was called, and Isodol tried to ignore it.
She ran to the nearest score keeper, for it was they who usually kept tallies on who bet on whom. She put her name in for Valmond, hoping to the immortals that his smirk meant more than just arrogance. She threw down a hefty five coins, staking her claim that he was going to win the first round. Returning back to her original position amongst the crowd of onlookers, she waited for the match to begin.
The referee called to the sky: "ready, begin!" and the two men were off in a battle of unarmed combat. Zain threw a mediocre first punch; it didn't land very close to Valmond, and was easily blocked by said fighter. But Zain was not deterred. He continued to pound out blows, throwing left and right punches, all the while hoping one would hit. For the most part, Valmond did not acquire any welts. He remained unfazed and unharmed until the last two punches. He was unable to block those because of the speed at which they were thrown.
Isodol grimaced when they landed. One to the face and the other to the abdomen. But nary a thought of regret passed through her mind. She still held fast to her bet. And her prediction rang true for the majority of the match. That was until the end when Zain continued to pound Valmond, pummeling into a new day of the week.
Isodol scowled as Valmond fell to the ground, pinned underneath the weight of his opponent. The referee shouted numbers until the unholy number one was announced. She knew at that moment that she had lost out on five essential coins to fund her alcoholism.
Suddenly, Valmond stood, non longer pinned to the ground like a dog being disciplined. He interjected, "rematch", and thus both men returned to their respective corners and prepared for another session.
Isodol again rushed to the man to place her wager. For some odd reason, she was stubborn in her belief that Valmond, the underdog, would come out on top. Why else had he suggested a rematch? Perhaps he knew something no one else did, as denoted by his previous smirking. Perhaps he was just another arrogant, gullible boy with dreams of becoming the strongest man, the best fighter of the underground ring.
Regardless, Isodol put ten coins to Valmond's name. Why did she double her previous amount? She couldn't say. She could only say that there was a roiling in her stomach, like the fluids were riling for a success, and Isodol, never wavering from acknowledging a gut feeling, neglected to admonish the feeling, encouraging her instincts and acting on them in the form of her gamble.
Again, she returned to her rightful position amidst the throng of people. Avidly watching the fighters, she did. Slightly impatient, she was, but that didn't stop her from relishing in the positive anticipation she felt waiting for the next match to begin. It didn't take long to start either.
The referee announced the names of the competitors again, perhaps just in case anyone missed it last time, or perhaps because it was customary and in line with the rules of how underground fighting went. Whatever the reason, time ticked by rather quickly, and before Isodol knew it, both men were at it again.
