Knights of Tezoth

what exactly do you want, bro?

Did you watch the arena bout — probably at the previous Deus's birthday, or maybe even before that, just a bit earlier?
The fighter present effortlessly defeated an unknown opponent, and everyone applauded him. What was his name... Something with an R... Richard? Ricardo? Ronaldo?..

While you were pondering, the second round started — they rushed you right off the bat. You fought like a lion, at some point even felt a second wind and deflected a flurry of blows! And then you landed yours — a single, decisive one. It brought you victory.
— Thanks for the duel, that wasn't easy, — you thanked your opponent, helping him up.
— You're doing fine as hell, — your opponent praised you, — now I see how you made so many women cuckold their husbands...
You tried to make excuses, but your reputation had already been announced by the referee, and no one heard your justifications.

Your next opponent turned out to be a man in plate armor wielding a war hammer:
— Now I'll show you what the babies you smeared across the walls felt!!!
— I don't doubt it, except I haven't smeared anyone, — you sighed wearily, assessing yet another billion HP on your opponent.
It was a very tough battle. You dodged like the devil, barely managing to strike your opponent when he opened up for a brief moment. Finally... You won without taking a single wound! What a triumph!
— Phew... thank you... for the bout, — you said, breathing heavily. — And please, don't think I'm some kind of monster or baby-killer, it's all the organizers' fabrication.
— Yeah, sure... — The opponent didn't believe you. — Who else moves that nimbly if not a baby-eater?
— And how is that related... — you muttered and waved your hand — you didn't know what tired you more: the string of bouts or such conversations with opponents.

— Good day, — you politely greeted your new opponent with an axe and, gathering the last of your strength, prepared for battle.
— Relax, — the axeman said to you so that only he could hear you over the crowd noise, — this is all part of the show, nobody here seriously thinks you slept with their wives or ate children.
— Show? — you didn't understand. Could all of this really be some kind of strange city entertainment? How can one slander a person like that and pass it off as some sort of amusement? — Uh, well, thanks...
You fought valiantly, and even prevailed in the most desperate situation.
The last fight was truly heated: the fired-up opponents hacked at each other with lightning speed, somehow managing to dodge the enemy's attacks simultaneously. At some point it seemed to you that he was gaining the upper hand, but the axeman unexpectedly, as if gaining new strength, chopped you across the shoulder. If not for the light armor that absorbed part of the blow, he would have been lying on the ground. Barely staying on your feet, you switched to a counterattack and still managed to snatch victory.
— Thanks for the bout, — you said with difficulty, pushing away the red haze clouding your eyes.
— Don't mention it, — the axeman replied, wheezing and limping, — but I won't give you my wife, hhaaaa.

Your next opponent turned out to be a knife-fighter just like yourself.
You greeted yet another opponent and prepared to take a fighting stance. The next bout promised to be interesting, and you hoped to pick up something new from it, regardless of the outcome.
…
…
…
You no longer understood how you were still on your feet. You had almost no doubt you wouldn't hold out against an equally fast opponent who needed just one attack to end your winning streak. However, the exact opposite happened: by incredibly dodging three thrusts in a row, you found your blade in the opponent's body.
You thank your opponent out of habit and help him up from the ground.

The opponent said nothing and left the arena, making way for a new opponent armed with a mace and shield.
— Buddy, how about we drop these women and kids? Let's better ride off into the sunset together ¬‿¬
— Thanks, of course, but I'm not planning to leave yet, — you got a bit nervous.
Your battle was heated... until you finally defeated your opponent.
- Ha... Ha!.. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!.. — only at that moment did you realize you weren't in the arena but in the stands, and your heart skips a beat with every attack of your mental vis-à-vis. - You're so damn good!..

***

Upon returning to headquarters in the sewers, you're met by Private Kucha — "Sergeant! During your absence!.." — "No..." — you reply, lowering your gaze threateningly. — "Did you forget my call sign, private?.. And do you deserve to be executed on the spot?" — your face, barely visible through your mane, shows extreme displeasure. — "S-sergeant... I... well...", — "Remember my call sign, private... Night Blade — that's who I am... Heh-heh.. heh...." — "S... serge... ant..."...

***

The Knight of Dawn Steel wakes up early in the morning on March 5, 297, and gasps for air for a while.

- His... Grace's... birthday... — he finally realizes. - I absolutely must prepare!

Forgetting all sorts of melatonin nightmares, he resolves to give his all on this day.