Arsenic bobbed his head lightly as he felt a few eyes rested on him, he had that generic spaced out look on his face drifting between reality and his subconscious devising a stratagem. His left hand hung heavy on the pommel of his sword, the cooled metal somewhat comforting causing him to grin as he daydreamed. Big mistake, the canvas that covered the flooring of the cage shook as his first opponent bustled toward him. Moments before though this one’s weapon burst into flames, manifesting them from thin air, which was an interesting trick. Arsenic was snapped back to reality as the floor tremors rocked him. His senses were apt as he smelled the burning, he took in the heat rising and he felt the approach.

The battle began, his lips curled into a grin as he stood their watching the charge. His grip on his sword ne’er changing though he found himself compelled to draw his weapon. Eyes looking over the larger combatant as he came at him soon widening, pupils contracted to pin prick sided flecks in the midst of a white sky. Genuinely he would have felt nervous months prior, but his mind automatically flicked to his reason for motivation. Teeth gritting together as he didn’t see Zeig approaching him instead, he saw Arwan coming forward with a swing of his claw again.

Zieg’s arm sprung into action with the swing, Arsenic’s eyes raced along his attackers limb correlating immediately. This time though having adversed affects, where he staggered he felt himself become steadfast reacting on a moments notice flitting backwards allowing the blade to pass in front of him. Though Arsenic was sure in his movements his heart never ceased to thump loudly. His weapon had yet to be drawn though he did adopt a crouching posture, his right hand extended forward open palmed, while his left hung back hovering over the hilt of his sword on his hip. His armor never squeaked or groaned against his movements, and his face showed neither strain nor discomfort. Though his confidence well exceeded his actual chances that might be what separated him from the rest.

Twisted by association he compared his opponent to the pale figure he deemed a worthy adversary and rival. As well as being number one on his list of evil creatures to remove this world of. The young fighter would use this moment to approach his opponent; through common sense he believed that his opponent would be coming around for a follow up swing. Nothing more than that lay between the seconds of a second life, or the seconds of an actual death. The flames raged from the blade, and they burned unnaturally but nothing thus far in his journeys had been natural. With his own response to his opponents attack; Arsenic sprung forward off the ball of his right foot.

Be ready..

A spreading shiver as his body, sauntered forward in a few steps, which brought him face to face with his opponent, last minute movements come in handy as he brought his right foot down “stepping” wrong on it making it look like he twisted his ankle. His face displayed pain, as he sharply rebounded to the left. Immediately his left hand clasped down hard on the hilt of Damascus. Swiveling himself around behind his opponent he brought the blade upward to the back of his foe arm making a full extension, as his weapon would most likely hit. Swiveling the weapon split secondly to change his grip on the weapon Arsenic slashed downward from right to left form an attack to his opponents back.