Champion forcibly broke his Combination and tried to withdraw with a wrenching shift of momentum and effort.

He took the first step back, and the AoO slammed into his thigh, paralyzing his leg with Stand Still at a Save of 80 or something, while Hercules stepped in to follow him, fending off the blow that should have punished him casually, his Expertise and Bulwark totally maxed, and still not going to miss.

“RECEIVE THE GIFT!” Herc announced, and his full attack, a straight delivery of ten punches from a Grandmaster of Unarmed Combat at -15 to attack and still guaranteed to hit, came in with an avalanche of blows and put a massive whooping on Champion, who literally couldn’t get away to escape them, nor parry them.

Champion could only use all his power to soak them as much as possible as they slammed into his bones and muscles, and finally Herc blew him away with a final BOOM that sent Champion hurtling completely across the arena.

“One point to Hercules!” called out the referee, almost breathless from the shockwaves of that many blows delivered that fast and hard, even with his personal force field.

Hercules hissed as he lowered his fists slightly. He had also been punished hard by letting that Combination through, and he spent his power to force out the cosmic energy that was interfering with his own internal healing. As it steamed out of him, he blew Vigor after Vigor, and his Fast Healing rippled through his internal injuries and began to fix them with great speed, mending bones threatening to break while bruises rising with unnatural speed stilled and receded.

Feeling better by the second, he began to trot towards Champion, who was slowly getting off the ground, doubtless forcing off the Blooding for a moment to get his own healing into play, for however much he could.

“A magnificent technique!” Champion announced as he got back to his feet. His proud nose had been flattened, and he had two cuts on his face from Herc’s fists finding it after the blows to Champion’s chest had bent him over. There was a deadly seriousness in his golden eyes now, probably realizing that if he had finished out that Combo, Hercules might have been almost beaten, but he himself would have been completely crushed.

Hercules blew another Vigor as he closed in, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stop Champion from healing the blows he’d de-Blooded, either, so this fight wasn’t even half-over as their boosted healing factors did their thing. There was only punishing him while he was mending, and inflicting more injuries on him while he did so.

Champion was much more careful as their exchanges resumed, but was still grimacing as Hercules’ blows wove through his defense, crushed his natural armor, exceeded his evasive speed, and seemed strangely ghost-like as they did so, his intuition failing him as well.

Champion was hitting Hercules as well, using lesser, shorter Combinations that managed to get past the wall of hands that could soak any of his blows faultlessly, Might cancelling out and the base punches incapable of harming the Olympian God of Strength, a trick only a god could pull off.

This was truly a challenging fight. They both had ferocious smiles as they went at it, god against cosmic Elder, and the hammering thunder of their fists rocked the forcefield once again as they shifted across the metal floor in drumbeats of set and dancing feet.

Champion thought he had Herc with a sixty-four-set Combination, so disjointed and varied they looked like ten different sets of moves. It drew Herc’s defenses this way, that, preprogramming defenses hypnotically, redirecting momentum, opening subtle gaps that could be exploited as Hercules dealt with most of the attacks and offered his own punishing fists in return here and there, Champion grimacing as he took them. The final attacks wound up and-

His fist crashed into Hercules’ face squarely, Herc sliding exactly the wrong way and taking the full blow as he did.

It didn’t help Champion, as he realized the move had been seen through and he had been set up.

The Master One Strike was unblockable, and crashed into his sternum faster than the speed of sound, the Thunderpunch dumping every ounce of its pressure through his chest. He could only scream in agony as his entire ribcage shattered, even as Hercules went flying.

It was the Olympian’s turn to go rolling out of control across the floor, and lay there limply as the referee called out, “One point to both contestants!” loudly.

But it was Champion who grit his teeth, rising somehow from the knees he’d fallen to after the shockwave of that hit had flung his limbs wide. He began walking forward, blood coming from his mouth with every breath from savagely pierced lungs.

“Point to Champion!” the referee called after six seconds when Hercules did not move. He raised his hand, prepared to TKO him out.

Hercules slowly drew his arms back, and slowly and carefully, pushed himself back to a squat.

His nose was flat against his face, and his whole face was black; there was no way he could see. Just looking at him, it was a miracle he was conscious.

Unmindful of that, he slowly lifted two fingers of his left hand and tapped them against his right bicep.

This is your strong right arm.

Every being who had ever called on Hercules for strength heard the words.

This is your strong left arm, he continued, tapping his other arm, and he lifted both of his arms to shoulder level, flexing in a way only a God of Strength could.

I will not fall while you hold me up.

---

“Oh fuck yeah,” I murmured, tensing my arms. “Take all you need, big guy!”

---

It was a sentiment repeated tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of times.

It might not have been much per person, but it didn’t need to be.

We were HIS strong right and left arms this time, against this arrogant blue alien who had blown through the strongest and best fighters on Terra.

He could not beat ALL of us!

Friends and enemies alike clenched their fists and FLEXED for the God of Strength.

---

The advancing Champion slowed right down.

Space itself was shuddering around the semi-conscious god ahead of him, whose head was lolling, blinded and doubtless concussed.

Hercules took a step, and the metal of the arena plate was squeezed out from under his foot like it was putty, instantly spiking to molten heat. Hercules took another step, and the proto-adamantium squealed in protest as it was forced away from his seemingly normal footstep, red-hot metal tracking every single step as he advanced on Champion.

Champion knew if he took a single One Strike from either of those fists, his chest would probably explode. If he landed one blow on the god’s head, Hercules would go down, and this duel would also be over.

Who would get the final blow would come down to luck. No matter how he analyzed it and bent his will to it, the god’s Domain reduced it all to strength against strength, rules even more basic than his own arena restrictions.

“This fight goes to who lands the next blow, and so has gone beyond strength and skill to chance,” he spoke out grimly, around a mouthful of bright red blood coming out, his hands coming into position despite the horrible pain it caused as the god closed in with such odd normality and such terrifying power at the same time.

“I offer a draw.”

It was almost a whisper. It had been hundreds of thousands of years since he had offered such a thing to anyone, and never in his own arena.

Hercules paused, arms upraised as if they could carry the weight of the world, space shuddering at the level of power ready to go off there. His head was almost on his shoulder, and he didn’t even look conscious.

There was a flash of gold, and the woman was there.

The Golden Hag...

She reached up and calmly took Hercules’ right arm, gently bringing it down to wrap about her shoulder without any fear. “Accepted,” she stated firmly.

“Teacher...” mumbled Hercules, as his drooling, bloody face fell into the side of her own, and that horribly dangerous feeling of unstoppable strength evaporated slowly from him.

There was just a flash of heavens-blue eyes as the dark-haired and scarred beauty met Champion’s gaze and turned away, and he froze as every instinct in him went wild at the threat she represented.

He could feel it. A Sword, raised high, and if it fell, he was going to be splashed across this arena as a smear of blood...

“You are done here.”

Holding the God of Strength up, his feet moving about every other step, Sama Rantha walked him off the arena as all those watching remained silent.

Her words were not directed at Hercules.

---

Champion stood there and watched them go.

He had not won, and he felt nothing but relief at the fact. A draw... a draw was all he could hope for.

If this Hercules could fight like this, then Primus, who was considered Hercules’ superior in all ways, would beat him with almost ridiculous ease. Taking that fight would only mean defeat.

And The Golden Hag and The Great Bear both stood above Primus...

He was indeed done here. His many Students and the irrelevant mortal competitors could finish up their business, and he would take his Colosseum away from here.

Once he was safely away from those blue eyes and the death they held for him, he could reflect on having had the best bouts in eons.

But only then.

The applause began then, and rose like all the thunder going off at once. A connoisseur of such things, he judged that the Colosseum had never heard applause so loud and fervent before. It would last for a good long time, and was probably being repeated across multiple galaxies.

He looked horrible himself. His magnificent chest was literally dented, with fistprints slammed into bone and muscle like he was built of stone and not enhanced flesh, and blood still fell from his mouth as he stood there breathing. It had been a long, long time since he had felt so much pain in one day, let alone in one bout!

He didn’t know what plans the Grandmaster had for this place, but he was fairly sure his brother Elder was overreaching himself, and putting his head under a falling Sword that would not be at all merciful.

He pulled out the second Card he’d purchased from the Dealer, slowly pushing out the magic that was stopping his injuries from healing as he did so.

One blow from victory, all to chance, and him with no Luck on his side. It had been a long time since he had danced on the edge like that.

And yet, it had let him avoid absolute defeat in the next match. Truly the wisest move he could pull off, if not the most hot-blooded.

But hot blood was for Challengers, not Champions.

He activated the Card, which had cost twice as much as the first one, given that it had to be prepared so quickly, and little red hearts swirled around himself and sank into his body.

If someone were to Challenge him right now, someone with true ability, he might lose to a lesser being. That was unacceptable, and he had credits enough to spend...