THIS CHAPTER IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY `Mushy FROM HEROES OF NEWERTH FORUMS BECAUSE HE’S A GREAT BUMPER, AND GALVANIZED ME TO FINISH THE CHAPTER EARLIER THAN ANTICIPATED.
Now enjoy your Newerth Lore 
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“He is not human,” muttered the Vice-Captain.
The crowd by now was as hushed as they were, watching the spectacle.
The Captain said nothing, his eyes focused solely upon the scene below.
The area around the Gladiator was bathed in a sea of his blood. The Swiftblade’s movements had wound the whip around the Gladiator; it now tied up his movements. But he remained standing.
The Captain’s eyes darted towards the arena’s exits. A magic spell was in place that ensured the exits would not open while two remained alive in the arena. The fact that the exits were still sealed off meant that the Gladiator still drew breath.
How? How was he still standing? Everyone here had witnessed the Swiftblade cut him to ribbons. The amount of blood on the floor and still gushing from the wounds defied the capacity of any human.
The Swiftblade let go of the whip’s end, and picked up Sange from its place in the ground. And she approached the Gladiator, swords raised high, clearly intending to decapitate him at the neck. A finishing blow, one that could not be avoided.
Was this it?
And the unmistakable, guttural laughter of the Gladiator echoed throughout the stadium.
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She immediately, instinctively, backed up. She did not understand why she did it; only that she felt a gut-wrenching fear.
The Gladiator, tied up in his own whip, still standing, was laughing. Despite the amount of blood he had loss, despite the amount of wounds he had suffered.
She brought up a defensive stance without thinking, and immediately wondered at it. This was an opponent who had already been shredded by her. He would probably die of blood loss within an hour. Why then, was she in a defensive stance?
And yet the Gladiator kept laughing. No, he was roaring with laughter, even with the blood that spewed forth from his mouth.
She raised her swords higher, wondering if she should approach. There was no time limit to the fight. She could wait it out, until he died standing.
But the Gladiator defied her plans, as he roared out to her, “Fantastic!”
She did not lower her swords, but she wondered at his praise.
“A fantastic technique!” he said, “Using my own weapon against me, and turning it into a weapon for yourself to execute a skill! You are resourceful!”
Her eyes narrowed, as she said nothing in response.
“This!” he shouted, “this is what I have been waiting for!”
And the blood gushed out even faster. No, it sprayed from his wounds. What was he doing?
But she knew. She understood. When two warriors of extreme skill cross blades, they understand the other one. Her master had explained it to her.
She understood the Gladiator’s loneliness. She too, felt it. They were contestants, nothing more. Always the first, always the top. Always the strongest.
When one reached the pinnacle of strength, her master had told her, there was nothing left for them to seek but ‘defeat’. Warriors like themselves, who sought nothing in life but to better themselves, were lonely in their quest to become stronger. One can only become strong by themselves; it is not one’s own strength by relying on the weak.
And now she understood. Because she realized, her face was smiling on its own, throughout this fight. She too, had felt lonely. Her master’s killing intent had never been fatal; only enough to train her.
This. This was real.
As she watched the Gladiator struggle even harder at the whip binding his movements, she thought more.
She had been waiting for this as well. The rush, the adrenaline, the euphoria. She had wanted this.
The path of the strongest is a lonely one, and the destination, that thing they sought so dearly for, that they wished for, is ‘defeat’.
Now she understood why her master chose his own life, as it was right now. She understood clearly.
And with a clean snapping sound, the whip snapped in various placed, as the Gladiator freed himself.
This man…no, this monster of a man. She readied her blades. He would be another stepping stone for her on her path to becoming stronger. One of them would become the stepping stone of the other. That was a fact. And both of them knew it. Both of them understood it.
Both of them relished in it.
The Gladiator tested his arms and legs, as he clenched and unclenched his now free left hand, while waving about his right arm, still holding onto his cutlass.
“Ahh, everything seems just about right.” he pronounced. She did not comment; the blood still gushed freely from his wounds. She wondered at the decreased amount of friction on the ground afforded by the blood, and made a mental note of it in case it hampered her movements later.
The Gladiator turned around and surveyed the crowd, that was still struck awe in silence at his vitality.
“You cheer for blood?!” he shouted at them.
And then he shook his whole body, spraying blood everywhere.
“THEN YOU SHALL HAVE IT!”
She saw her chance, and rushed forwards to attack, amidst the renewed cheering frenzy of the entire stadium, as the Gladiator slowly turned around to intercept her.
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“I do believe he has gone mad,” said the Captain idly.
The Vice-Captain stared in awestruck, replying, “Mad with blood loss? I will believe that.”
A deafening clang resonated through the stadium as the two met blades, one cutlass defending against a cross cut of both Sange and Yasha. The Swiftblade was hurtled back, and more blood sprayed onto the ground. But she landed on her feet, and continued her assault at the Gladiator.
“Well at least his blood loss has incapacitated him from moving his position,” commented the Vice-Captain, “if not, I would have seriously doubted his hum-“
But he was cut off short as the Gladiator gave chase at the Swiftblade despite his wounds, and with the same speed as before.
The Vice-Captain had no words to say.
As more clangs and clashes resounded throughout the place, the Vice-Captain became irate. “She is taking far too long,” he muttered softly to his Captain, “the Gladiator should be as good as dead. Except she is only exchanging sword strikes with him and not aiming for the body at all.”
“Your views are understandable,” replied the Captain sagely, “because not everyone can see what she is doing.” And another loud clang vibrated from the arena.
“She is not finishing him off!” declared the Vice-Captain, “Even I can see that!”
“She has changed tactics,” said the Captain. He then pointed as another jet of blood exploded from a wound from the Gladiator. “Do you see that?”
“Yes, he is bleeding, what does…”
“No,” the Captain said, “that is not bleeding. Blood does not explode out of the body like that.”
They watched in silence, as the Vice-Captain waited for his Captain to give an explanation.
“Internal impacts,” said the Captain.
“Pardon?”
“Allow me to demonstrate,” the Captain said, and he drove a dagger quickly at the Vice-Captain, who immediately blocked with his blade, and was pushed back a meter.
“That,” said the Captain, withdrawing his dagger and examining the tip, “is an external impact. You were forced back a distance, but the energy that forced you back could have instead been used to damage you.”
The Vice-Captain kept his sword drawn, slightly wary at the Captain’s sudden testing of his reaction. However, he nodded at the explanation.
“Most warriors utilize brute force to wear down the enemy, with external impacts. However, much of that is wasted, due to most of the energy used in attacking being diverted elsewhere.”
The Swiftblade and Gladiator were exchanging quick blows now while running parallel to each other.
“An internal impact is utilization of precision to make sure that one’s energy spent in attacking is entirely absorbed by the enemy’s body. You might even call it an un-blockable blow; as long as contact was made, the energy was transferred. Sometimes, normal warriors manage this at random intervals. They call them critical strikes.”
The Vice-Captain decided that the Captain was not going to attack him again anytime soon, and shifted towards the Captain once again.
“And so…the energy, what does it do in the enemy’s body?” he questioned cautiously.
The Captain paused in his polishing of his weapon.
“It damages them from inside. You can see proof of it there.”
The Vice-Captain realized with a start.
“You mean, those blood gushes…”
“Yes. The blood is being forced out of the Gladiator’s body by the energy being directed into him. She is bleeding him to death.”