Inside the projection was another arena. It looked bigger than this one in both size and capacity. Eager fans filled all the rows of the arena from top to bottom. Their clothes seemed to differ in both color and style as more vivid colors like red or darker colors like black stuck out from the normal brown and green colors. 

In the middle of the arena stood Aaref Fayworth. With a smirk and a finger pointed toward the sky, he silenced the crowd. “Welcome ladies and gentlemen,” he said. He extended one of his hands to the left and revealed the first fighter. “The first fight will be between the A-rank Demon of the Frost: Izain Nocht and,” he extended his other hand to the right, “B-rank adventurer Lance Von.” 

The two fighters appeared to be polar opposites of each other from height to composure and overall appearance. Izain appeared to be smaller in both height and size while Lance towered over him with a bulkier appearance. At first glance, it appeared that Lance possessed the upper hand in physical strength. The rough, dark-haired man stood proudly with his burly arms crossed. His smile radiated an extraordinary amount of confidence. 

However, Izain appeared nonchalant; his composure was calm and his posture was almost completely straight except for a slight slouch. His hands rested in the pockets of his pants as his legs took turns crossing each other. His head was tilting up and nodding which caused his white hair to bounce gently against his face. 

“Begin!” Aaref announced. 

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked with a cocky grin. He tilted his head against his fist and cracked his neck. He rolled one of his shoulders and arms forward before laughing and repeating the motion with his other shoulder. “Am I not of your caliber for you to take me seriously?” His grin grew wider with every step he began to take. 

Several feet away and almost body-to-body, Lance stopped in his tracks and leaned over. Looking down on Izain, he slapped his hand on top of Izain’s shoulder. Their eyes met; Izain’s glaze was cold and unwelcoming. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you froze u—” 

Lance’s eyes dropped to his stomach. A cold sensation haunted him as a small wound was punctured into his core. From the wound, hung half of an icicle. Blood began to slither out the wound. His gaze shifted back up. Aizen had vanished. 

“You talk a lot,” Izain said. His voice was low, but his words were clear and carried by a stern tone. He stood behind Lance wielding the other end of the icicle. 

“W-why, you little bastard!” Lance shouted and turned his head. His eyes were practically bulging from his head. “I’m going to crush you!” he shouted while spreading his arms and attempting to squeeze Izain. 

Evading the attack, Izain maneuvered backward and ducked. The icicle dissolved as he clutched his hand into a fist and delivered a punch across the center of Lance’s core. A gob of spit launched from Lance’s mouth. 

“How dare you...” he mumbled and staggered back. “How dare you make a fool out of me?” He screamed out. This time, his muscles expanded and his body grew. He was twice as burly as before and looked like the personification of a beast. 

“Beast Magic: Overdrive!” he screamed out. 

The spell was followed by loud grunts and short screams. His physical appearance was more intimidating than before. The pupils of his eyes faded. Dark brown fur sprouted across his chest as his shirt ripped apart. 

Running wildly, he quickly approached Izain. For a split second, Izain’s eyes widened. He threw up his arms to block the incoming left hook but was overpowered by the sheer force behind it. The attack sent him crashing against the ground and flying across the stage. Springing back to his feet, Izain was met with another fierce attack. This time he was knocked back down with a weaker punch. 

Lance grabbed his head. He raised Izain’s face to his before slamming Izain’s head back down and throwing him across the ground. Izain’s face dragged across the stage before his body could hit the floor. 

Charging back in, Lance prepared to deliver another powerful blow until his feet came to a stop. The floor beneath him was replaced with ice and he was lifted up between tall shards of ice. 

Attempting to swing and break the ice, he was distracted by the loud footsteps of his opponent. Looking down, he saw Izain extending his arm up and touching the ice where his stomach was. 

“You fought well, but you are nothing more than just a wild man with the attitude of a beast,” Izain said. “That will never get you anywhere on the battlefield. Sure, you can slaughter a hundred dumb mana beasts and men with this power, but any intelligent specimen would put you back in your place.” His eyes shifted from Lance to the sky. He threw his left arm back into the air as if he was reaching to grab something. 

“Gate of Heaven: Frost Bolt!” 

A light blue circle with triangles and dots within it materialized diagonally in the sky. The air below the circle filled with frost as energy rushed out of it. The energy took on the coldness of its caster and formed into a giant icicle that levitated in front of the gate. 

“Usually, this attack will kill its enemy, but since that is prohibited in the tournament, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hit anything too vital,” Izain said. He looked back at the sky. 

“Compression Strike!” he said. 

Throwing his hand forward as if he was stabbing somebody, Izain launched the giant icicle at Lance. Making its descent toward Lance, it soared at great speeds. A cold wind blew in the opposing direction as it approached. Before making contact with Lance, it shrunk dramatically in size into that of a needle. 

The blow struck him directly in his right chest. As the attack landed, it broke the other ice surrounding him and created strong winds that blasted around the whole arena. Lance fell to the ground.