Draconic Sphere Ω

Chapter 32: It Seemed Like The Fun Thing To Do

Brunhild's footsteps squeaked humorously as she stepped into the colosseum. Her opponent was a little shorter than her, but proportioned like a tall halfling or a small human.

"Hem, hem! My dear gentlehumans!" said Lord Pineapple Discombobulate the Second. "This is the last battle of the Race To The Bottom! One of these clowns will be crowned Most Pathetic Failure of the Year and win a year's supply of hot bunnies courtesy of Rabbit Joe's Hot Bunny Emporium! The other will still have a vanishingly small chance to rejoin the tournament proper and win back their honour!"

"Such as it is!" added Lord Pomegranate Flabbergast.

"Indeed!" agreed Lord Pineapple Discombobulate the Second.

I can still escape this hell, thought Brunhild. There's a still a chance I can leave here with my honour.

Brunhild's opponent grinned at her.

Suddenly Brunhild recognised that grin, underneath all the makeup. And that stoop, the stoop of an aged man.

It was Chekhov.

Brunhild gaped. Chekhov kept grinning.

"Don't dishonour ze whole clan, ja?" yelled one of Brunhild's aunts from the audience.

I can't do this, thought Brunhild.

I CAN do this, thought Brunhild.

"Ready... Fight!" yelled the referee.

Chekhov winked and pulled out a wand. He pointed it at Brunhild.

Brunhild dived out of the way.

Chekhov pointed his wand to where Brunhild was now lying on the ground, and blasted her with flames.

Brunhild frantically rolled and dodged aside. Only after several long moments did she realise that the flames hadn't felt hot at all.

Brunhild stared at Chekhov, disbelieving. Chekhov wiggled his eyebrows and beckoned Brunhild towards him.

Brunhild yelled and charged. Chekhov shot blast after blast of fire at her. She didn't even try to dodge. The crowd roared in pleasure.

Brunhild snatched Chekhov's wand out of his hand.

"Oh, no, don't hurt me!" cried Chekhov, quite unconvincingly.

Brunhild growled and tried to snap the wand.

The wand was surprisingly tough. Not this, too, Brunhild thought. I will not be seen as weak. She raised the wand to snap it over her knee.

"No, stop —" yelled Chekhov.

Brunhild brought the wand down over her knee.

It exploded.

The explosion threw Brunhild into the air. She would later remember nothing of this moment.

From the seats, Kaergat, Lacrie and Dandelion saw Chekhov's eyes go wide. The referee took a step forward.

Then Chekhov pulled a black sphere from a box at his belt. He brandished it high above his head.

A ripple in reality itself seemed to spread from the sphere.

Everything rewound.

Brunhild flew back up, into the air —

Flames appeared, then vanished —

Brunhild was on her feet again, conscious, and utterly bewildered. She looked down at the unbroken wand in her hands.

"Just punch me or something, ya nut," growled Chekhov.