Stay and watch the fight

“Ethshali! I thought you’d chickened out.” One of the diciples said.

“Must we do this, Gelva? I will compensate you in medicinal pills to improve your cultivation.” The new arrival, named Ethshali, replied.

“The best medicinal pill you can provide would be bending over and taking my cock. Perhaps if you would do so willingly, I would let this matter go.” Gelva said.

“You know I won’t do that.” Ethshali shook her head.

“I know. That’s why I’m going to take the resolve you stole from me by ****!” Gelva roared. Rows of metal plates flashed into existence along her arms. Those gauntlets must be some sort of magic treasure!

Ethshali, the other futa, drew her blade. It took the form of a scimitar with pieces cut out. The blade glowed menacingly in the futa's hands. She swung it up to block Gelva’s blow, deflecting her assailant's left fist as she tried to pull back.

She was too slow, though. Gelva had already swung her blade around, scoring first blood along the other futa's arm with her fists. Her hands glowed with a menacing red light that resembled spikes.

“The fists of fury technique!” Alea whispered. She’d read about this. Unlike a fireball technique, fists of fury had to be maintained continuously throughout a fight. It existed on a far higher level than a fireball, as it could be used for attack and defense.

Not only was Gelva skilled at holding and maintaining enough resolve to power the technique, but she was also a skilled martial artist. She traded blow for blow with Ethshali, who seemed to be constantly withdrawing a step with each exchange of blows. She struck out with her scimitar, but each time Gelva would block the blade with her fists.

“How dare you take what was mine, young upstart! I was an outer sect disciple when you were sucking your mother’s teats!” Gelva snarled.

“It isn’t too late, Gelva. I can return your **** and cultivation vessel to you if it will resolve this strife between us.” Ethshali said between breaths.

“Unlike last time, Ethshali, there are no sect elders for you to plead your case to. This time your ass is mine!” Gelva snarled.

“For the last time, your **** and cultivation vessel begged me for aid. They said you were a cruel and vicious mistress! And from the rumors, I believed it.” Ethshali pleaded.

“I am cruel to those who disobey me, as you’ll soon find out.” Gelva grinned menacingly.

“I didn’t want to do this, Gelva, but you leave me ****. Forbidden sword art! Tempered Flame Slash!” Ethshali shouted.

Alea felt a strange sensation as all the resolve in the area was pulled towards the sword-wielding futa. The energies mingled, and the temperature grew. In an instant, a halo of fiery flame surrounded the futa’s scimitar.

“Haaa!” Ethshali swung her blade, too fast for Gelva to dodge.

Gelva crossed her arms and went down to one knee, disappearing behind a curtain of flames.

“A shame that you couldn’t see reason. As is custom, I will bury your ashes in--- What!? Impossible!” Ethshali jumped backwards, shocked by whatever she saw through her flames.

The curtain of flame vanished into the air, and there Gelva was. A corona of blue light shimmered around her and tiny droplets of mist shimmered in the air.

“Did you really think I didn’t know that you’d finally comprehended the Tempered Flame Slash technique? I admit I’m impressed. Your average mystic artist would be completely unable to grasp it’s intricate spell weaving. But I am a keeper of the outer sects Hall of Techniques. I knew that you’d succeeded the moment you checked out the next volume of the Tempered Flame Sword Arts. It’s too bad you offended me, otherwise you surely would have been accepted as an inner sect disciple in a few years.”

“Quit talking like you’ve won.” Ethshali replied. But even as she did so, she spat up a mouthful of blood. That last technique had taken a lot out of her, and a look of despair painted her face.

“Ah, but I have, darling. Now watch a real technique. I spent the last ten years mastering this trump card! The Devouring Stone Beetle Strike!”

Gelva cupped her hands in a pincer motion, causing the earth to rise from the stadium floor and slam against Ethsahli from either side.

Ethshali’s scimitar went flying from her hands, landing point down into the solid stone floor. A testament to the sharpness of a magic treasure.

The futa was bound and bruised, helpless under the grip of the stones. When Gelva pried her hands apart, the stones came apart as well, exposing most of Ethshali's body but keeping her arms and legs trapped in their stony embrace.

Gelva walked in close and cupped Ethshali’s bruised and downcast chin in her hands.

“How far the genius of the outer sect has fallen.” She said with a cheshire grin.

“Do your worst. I am ready.” Ethshali said, eyes downcast.

“Oh, I plan to, sweetheart.” Gelva pulled back her leg and kicked full **** between the bound futa’s legs.

“AAARGHHH!” Ethshali cried. She wriggled against her bindings, but couldn’t escape.

“Ha! This is what you get for taking what is mine, you horny slut!” Gelva snarled, kicking again and again.

*Pop*

The sound of Ethshali’s balls bursting could be heard throughout the audience, ringing loud and clear.

The other mystic artists shook their heads at Gelva’s ungraceful victory. This would set Ethshali’s cultivation back months, if not years. Her chances of getting accepted into the inner sect within her lifetime plummeted as a result of this fight.

Broken and battered, Gelva hauled Ethshali free of her bindings and pushed her face down into the ground. Ethshali’s face held a blank look as Gelva took her from behind.