#imagine if he just fuckin wrecked a guy with the WHM laser

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 6

Ring

In truth, this hadn’t really been a fair fight at all. Hero had given himself one hell of a disadvantage in the arena. He was a healer by nature, a bard by choice, and followed a dark knight’s path by need. Any other type of combat was something liable to put him on the back foot- which is exactly why he picked up the scythe for a special guest appearance in Ul’dah’s fighting ring. This was a charity competition after all, a sum of all the bets went towards assisting the rebuilding efforts in Ala Mhigo and Doma. Hero had made damn sure the proceeds didn’t wind up lining the coffers of the Syndicate. They’d spent too much of his goodwill for him to trust them blindly ever again.

So instead he leaned on a style of fighting he had only picked up recently, barely even a moon’s worth of practice against the winner of the actual tournament giving their best against someone who was trying to pick something that would be a detriment to his fighting style. 

Of course, he couldn’t turn off his echo, and he’d overcome worse odds before this.

Hero hadn’t exactly wiped the floor with the poor Gladiator that faced him. The man was a fan favorite, the Bloodsands were his home. He’d practically been grown and raised in the ring. So Hero found himself apologizing for choosing not to fight seriously. In his mind, it’d made sense. To the Gladiator it was an insult. “I really cannot explain to you how bad it would have looked if you’d tried to fight me when I was using a weapon I know how to fight with-”

“Better’n makin’ a laughin’ stock outta me!” He practically spit back at Hero, “Rematch! Fight me again. Here n’ now!”

Hero frowned a bit and swapped his scythe for a cane, “okay but the results aren’t going to be any better.” Hell, they’d be worse. He wasn’t even wearing robes. He was wearing half a shirt and thigh high boots with a dagger in them. This wasn’t going to end better than his approximation of the Reaper arts. He glanced back at the Sultana who nodded.

“We’ve seen the Warrior of Light at his worst- who’s ready to see him at his best?”

Hero groaned inwardly as Nanamo hyped up the crowd personally. This wasn’t going to be fair at all and he knew it. Not with Eros’ signature spell on his lips. Still, the match began and Hero gave it a minute of the other man trying to make a dent in him. Every wound dealt was healed in an instant, he wasn’t even using his combat magics, not yet.

One blue blossom to heal from a wide sweeping attack.

One blue blossom to heal from a glancing thrust.

One blue blossom to heal from a hit that caught him on his unarmored hand in an attempt to disarm him.

That was it, Eros’ signature spell should be charged. “You want to see what I’m capable of? Fine.” He didn’t dare target the poor man with the might of this spell- but he jumped back and let loose his signature blood lily, right in front of the poor man’s feet, turning the sand between them to glass with a feral smile.

The Gladiator froze to stare at the pillar of raw white magic before dropping his sword to the ground. Hero hadn’t even hit him, but the force alone seemed to be enough to take the fight from him.

“So tell me, was this more or less embarrassing than the scythe?” Maybe he’d overdone it a little bit, but sometimes people needed to remember why they were willing to send a single vieran man against gods and rest assured that it wouldn’t be the gods who walked away alive.

Nanamo, for her part, clapped excitedly while he walked out of the ring regretting the unwarranted slaughter of the poor man’s ego.