"Hey! Nice to meet you," Trosker waved at them and said, his light brown hair waving in the wind. He was bare-chested, his lower half covered by a pair of simple black pants, while his lean chest is covered in scars. "Name's Trosker, this one's Reyvan. Rey, aren't you being damn gloomy? Smile a bit!"

"They're our opponents, you know. Stop playing buddy-buddy to everyone you meet," Reyvan scowled, elbowing his companion. He was pretty well dressed, a stark contrast to the bare-chested man. His short, neatly combed brown hair was somehow staying in place in spite of the cool wind of the late afternoon, as if even nature itself was trying to highlight the contrast between them even further.

"So?" Trosker raised his eyebrows, his emerald green eyes staring at his companion in bewilderment. "That doesn't mean I have to make it personal. They're been nice to us so far."

"You do realize we met them less than two minutes ago, right?" Reyvan sighed.

Claire just stared at the two of them, before deciding to stare at Fiora. As expected, she wasn't even budging in the slightest.

"Geez, hey, you with the grey hair, You look like you've seen some crap," Trosker stared at Fiora and said, "Lighten up a bit. Tell me your name at least?"

"Fiora, and I'm fine with myself as it is." Fiora gave a quick reply. Though she still seemed the same, Claire could surmise that Fiora did not appreciate being dragged into the conversation.

"Oh damn, this is going to be fun!” Trosker barked out a loud laugh. "I'm fighting with a statue."

"It seems some of our contestants are enjoying themselves! However, as on schedule, the fight starts in a matter of seconds! Count down with me, everyone! Ten!"

"If that is the extent of your strength of will, you are going to lose, little lady." Trosker held the end of his chain, ready to unravel the binding from his left knuckle.

"Sure, I shall take your assessment into account,” Fiora's answer was even, no trace of emotion in her tone.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

The moment echoes of bells marking the beginning of the match resounded, the two has already disappeared, turning into red and brown colored blur. The two's chains were lying on the arena floor, amidst the flying dust and debris overtaking the place.

Without further ado, both handlers took their own Incarnations' glowing chains.

All of a sudden, Claire felt a sudden gust of wind in front of her, followed by a tug as Fiora pulled her out of the way.

The forcefield protecting the walls shook as a massive, beast-like being punched it. Without breaking a sweat, the figure turned around, revealing a massive, muscled man covered in feathers. His head is shaped like a golden hawk's, piercing green eyes contrasting the massive wings unfurled on his back.

"No bark, but you certainly can bite!" Trosker, the hawk man, let out a hearty laugh, no hostility evident at least in his voice. "We made the right choice joining this thing, after all!"

"Dammit, Trosker. Just kill her and take the fucking necklace already! We don't have all day to spend on this," His face was pale, as if he had to swallow his own fear to even stand there.

"Yeah, yeah, snippy as always," Trosker shrugged and charged forward, yet again meeting Fiora's chains.

With a wave of her hand, Fiora conjured several flat, red hot crystals while moving her chains, and they all flew at the same time, aiming for Trosker's abdomen. The knives found their mark, marring the hawk man's scarred upper body with even more wounds. Each wound sizzled, and a smell similar of that of a burned meat filled the air.

"You're a tough one," Trosker landed, without as much as blinking even with several hot crystals lodged down his abdomen, and pulled the offending weapons out out. White smoke rose from his hand, the crystals searing the feathers on his palm. The moment he threw the heated objects down, his skin immediately knitted back within seconds, leaving pinkish scars.

"I see, so a part of your power is the ability to take attacks head-on by depending on your accelerated healing, and compensate the rest with your mobility," Fiora nodded, "However, what of your partner? I hope you do remember that your partner is incapable of the former."

"Oh, he will be fine. The better question is, how about yours?"

A lone, golden brown feather streaked across them, nicking Fiora on the cheek, close to her right eye, and landed between Trosker's middle and index fingers. A trickle of blood and a stinging feeling accompanied the wound. Though the wound was shallow, it still looked painful.

Meanwhile, Claire, who has been trying to sneak away from the thick of the battle and grab Reyvan's necklace, stopped upon noticing the small, distracting, and stinging pain close to her right eye. There was no blood, but the pain was similar to getting a paper cut, nothing unbearable yet distracting her enough from her objective.

Not expecting the sensation, she grimaced in pain. As a result, she stopped advancing.

"Don't draw the battle for too long, Trosker! Get the necklace!"

"Heh, fine, tough crowd. Let's end this!" Trosker nodded and rushed forward, sending sand and rocks across the arena in his pursuit towards Claire. Fiora followed suit from the other direction, chains extended to hinder the golden eagle, while she ran as fast as possible to save her own partner. Both moved in terrifying speeds, throwing dust every which way.

The field shook, translucent cracks appearing on the surface of the force field, yet the cracks quickly disappeared like it was never there soon afterwards.

"Mmph!"

Claire felt a stabbing pain on her left leg, and then the gust of cool wind as Fiora carried her in both arms, and jumped up in the air. Not even a second passed, and the ground have cracked, dirt and sand spraying to all directions from the relentless attack of the hawk.

A quick glance below revealed not only the extend of the damages to the arena, but also the blood dripping from Fiora’s left leg, a testament that the latter did not escape as unscathed from the attack as her still expression implied.

"This is going nowhere, Fiora."

Fiora nodded, without saying anything.

Claire held up the small silver chain with her left hand, dangling the chain as both of them descended towards the ground. Trosker, with his wings spread wide, keeps on attacking without relent, while Fiora tried to keep her handler safe by dodging and occasionally retaliating with her chains and crystals. Claire could feel herself being tossed and turned around, yet there was care taken in each movement. It was like the weapons were living beings, capable of their own thoughts at least.

Knowing the wide reach of her chains, Trosker kept Fiora distracted, aiming for the obvious deadweight to keep them from attacking his handler. Even as he looked like a pincushion for crystals, he persisted attacking, leaving Reyvan to almost scratch the ground in his pain. Dust has covered the arena like a fog of war, and Fiora took the opportunity to place Claire on the ground.

Claire took a moment to stabilize herself, it was practically a miracle she didn’t wobble and fall after the ordeal.

"Claire, you are right that as long as he could move, this would be going nowhere. Should I cleave this place instead?"

"Fiora, don’t,” Claire shook her head and took a look at the force fields. The protective barrier were still flashing in and out, cracks forming and disappearing as the seconds tick by. After a moment of silence, Claire continued, “There should be a better way.”

“Then, Claire, would you be willing to place your trust in me?”