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The walls continued to pop up but at a slower pace. Also, all the walls far from Yeter suddenly lost the strands of earth essence inside of them.

It was difficult, but Hiztor could hear the clacking of Yeter’s hooves and faintly sense him running around. So little information was barely enough for Hiztor to concoct his match-winning strategy.

Yeter wasn’t entirely sure what Hiztor was up to. But he didn’t care. Unlike his opponent, Yeter still had enough essence to be reckless. And thanks to his two years of sensory training under Zelsh, Yeter could intricately feel what was going on with the walls. Yeter just didn’t care. He willingly ran into what Hiztor wanted to call a trap.

Whilst evading the walls, Yeter had never broken any or even attempted it. Hiztor wasn’t sure why, but he based his strategy on that and hurried with all preparations.

Soon, Yeter ran into a forked path separated by walls. Yeter seemingly chose at random and went left. The path had a sharp turn but he was soon in the middle of a corridor. To Yeter’s back was the incoming boulder, which would’ve hit Yeter in the face had he gone right. And to the front of Yeter was Hiztor, speeding through the air freshly rebounded off a not-too-distant wall.

“Playing chicken, village boy?!” Yeter laughed, accelerating to his top speed. Being a straightaway with Hiztor at the other end, Yeter stopped caring about maneuverability and charged in head first.

Hiztor was fuming mad. Running low on essence and patience, Hiztor finally shouted back, “Just die, dumb pony!”

It all happened so quickly.

.....

Hiztor’s bouncing boulder was trailing behind Yeter while Hiztor braced for impact against the stallion. He was ecstatic to finally smack that smirk off of Yeter’s long face.

Suddenly, another wall rose up between Hiztor and Yeter. But it was parallel with the corridor, showing its thinner side to both Yeter and Hiztor. And it happened to appear a krin in front of Hiztor.

“Making walls is easy!” Yeter whinnied, still not slowing down.

Hiztor hastily tucked into a front flip to help him and his essence armor rip through the wall. Sadly, he had to break through it the long way, on its side. It caused zero damage. But it greatly slowed Hiztor’s speed, lowering Hiztor’s confidence in breaching Yeter’s essence armor.

For Yeter, he didn’t care at all about the boulder behind him. His target was directly in front of him. Yeter concentrated all of his essence armor on the head in order to brace for impact and skewer Hitzor.

C-c-crack! CRACK!

The heavy crunching of bone rang out as the two collided. Yeter’s head was thrown back, forcibly deflecting the human cannonball to the side.

Hiztor winced and groaned in pain as he felt his ribs shatter and blood flood his throat. But before he could relax, Hiztor used some straggling essence to curl up and protect himself. Earthen spikes had appeared where a wall used to be.

Breaking his way through the spikes, unable to change his trajectory so quickly, Hiztor crashed to the ground. The tips of some stone spikes were jutting out of Hiztor’s back and shoulders. He wailed, “AAAAAHHHHAAAHH!!”

Yeter, on the other hand, was hit in the rear by the boulder. There wasn’t much essence there to protect him but Yeter had left enough essence to walk away with minimal injuries.

Or so he thought. The boulder hit him while Yeter was still forcing Hiztor aside. Being smashed between the two flying objects had caused something Yeter hadn’t anticipated. A crack from his neck.

Yeter was still very much alive, still blinking and breathing. But while Yeter tumbled and spun on the ground from the double impact, Yeter realized something. He couldn’t feel his legs. Or his torso.

There was no panic in Yeter’s eyes. There was no worry. All Yeter did was glance at his fallen, torn-up opponent. He silently prayed to the heavens that Hiztor would never stand up.

…

The entire colosseum was quiet. Everyone was anxious to see who would move next.

Clutching the rubble and dirt, Hiztor groaned and grunted while forcing himself to sit up. “... YOU!! … How dare you! … How dare a pitiful pony… do this to MEEE?!!”

Managing to laugh and smile, Yeter wanted to cry. “Well… You’re lucky this time. I give up, but wait till I wipe you out next time, village boy!”

“YOU!!!” Hiztor howled. The last of Hiztor’s earth essence gathered around one of his barbed gauntlets. He stepped toward the helpless horse with merciless bloodlust.

Never had Hiztor received any serious injuries. Never had Hiztor been mocked and humiliated, especially in front of thousands of spectators. Never had Hiztor tolerated anyone slandering or belittling the clan and name he lived by.

Yet that and more had happened within the span of a single fight. Against a horse.

Mustering all the strength left in his body, Hiztor leaped at the downed stallion. “DIIIE!!!”

CRACK!

“AAHHH!” Hiztor screamed.

Furious, Heuzon stood tall and leered down at the arena. “That’s my son, a precious candidate and a finalist–”

“DISQUALIFIED!”

Kelna’s shout reverberated through all of Avalanche Colosseum. She stopped Heuzon’s objections with but a word. All while holding up Hiztor by his extended fist. The barbed gauntlet didn’t harm Kelna at all. Instead, the gauntlet was crushed under her grip, crumpled around Hiztor’s now shattered hand.

“Hiztor Galdo is disqualified from the Permafrost Province Qualifier!” Kelna restated. “For acting out to kill a surrendered opponent long after the forfeiting statement was given. And for condoning such actions and attempting to protect your son from the punishment he’s earned himself, the Galdo Clan is hereby banned from participating in the Mortal Championship for the next fifty years!”

Hiztor had nothing to say. He just wanted to scream and shout in agony. But Kelna’s other hand was firmly gripping Hiztor’s face to keep his mouth shut.

Heuzon was speechless. From being on top of the world to have his son make it so far and win the final match, earning the territory and clan so many benefits while securing their influence and support within the region… to utter disillusion and devastation of seeing his son treated with malice and contempt by the province’s representative.

Yet no matter what Heuzon wanted to say, his opinion and words weren’t even worth shit at that moment. Speaking out of reflex had gotten his entire clan and territory in trouble. Anything more and Heuzon wasn’t sure if he would make it back home unscathed. Within a single moment, the Galdo clan had become the target of the Permafrost Province and humiliated Rhyner Region. It was far worse than any scenario the Galdo Clan could’ve imagined.

Seeing Heuzon shut up, Kelna scoffed and tossed Hiztor aside, sending him flying into his father’s open arms. “The Permafrost Province will not be administering treatment for his wounds, on account of him making a mockery of our qualifying exhibition. If you want him treated, leave and pay for it yourself.”

Trembling, Heuzon couldn’t even nod. All around him were territory leaders and regional kings. And each of them was staring, leering, or glaring at him.

The only person not looking at Heuzon and his screaming son was Rhyner Trighton. His eyes were fully focused on the arena as if nothing had happened. But he did sigh, saying, “I told him. Don’t pick a fight with the Rot Team…”

Heuzon was at a crossroads. He could try and make excuses or cast Hiztor aside to salvage the situation…

Or Heuzon could leave, quickly and quietly. Which he did.

While those in the reserved section kept their thoughts to themselves or used telepathy to speak without prying ears, the rest of the colosseum was in an uproar. It was the first time most of them had ever seen someone disqualified for misconduct. And it was after the match had been decided!”

“... Wait… I WON?!” Yeter yelped, still unable to move anything below his neck.

A glimmer of a smile appeared on Kelna’s face. “Yes. By default, but you will still move on to represent Permafrost Province in the prefecture qualifier.”

“YEE–OW!”

“Why the long face?” Zelsh chuckled and appeared at Yeter’s side, as did a medic. “Stay still unless you never want to move your body again.”

“Y-YES, MASTER!” Yeter shouted with the utmost care, making sure to not move a muscle.

The medic’s life essence poured through Yeter’s body but stopped. It was then injected into Yeter’s neck, practically swelling and glowing from how much essence was applied to the broken neck. After a minute, something clicked in Yeter’s mind. He subconsciously twitched his hooves and felt the tingling sensation of his legs falling asleep on him.

“Thank you!” Yeter scrambled on the ground while bobbing his head up and down at the medic.

Laughing, Zelsh helped Yeter stand on his shaky legs. “Alright, we have to continue now. But great job, Yeter. I still can’t believe Bradok won the bet…”