In true Dwarven tradition, Cain drinks until nearly morning then passes out in a booth in the corner. For most of the night the small tavern was packed, and Cain learned a great deal about this city called Kan.
For one, the dwarves were only tolerated because they were the best smiths. Even the Elf at the gate didn't come into town, they only hired him for the days the competitors were showing up. Other than that only humans were welcome.
The standard of the competition here was also supposed to be laughably low. The dwarves insisted they could take most of the so called Blessed humans in a fight without using their magical weapons.
Magic was beyond most of these dwarves only a few low level Earth Mages were among their ranks, but making magical weapons was a species trait, even if they couldn't use one bit of magic they could still learn to craft the finest magical weapons.
They also recommended Cain put his Scimitar away, before a human realized what it was and arranged to have him murdered in his sleep. Cain bought it from a Dark Dwarven Master Smith, and the smiths here recognized the workmanship immediately, as well as the power.
Cain had pretended to tuck it into his pack and then joked with the dwarves. "I guess I'll have to make like the stout folk and beat the humans unconscious with my bare hands."
They were looking forward to the spectacle, and promised as he finished breakfast the next morning that they would come watch his fights.
The numbers of the fighters were all up on the board by groups. There was nothing but numbers, poorly written, and Cain suspected that whoever was in charge was actually illiterate, but it was enough to lead him to where he needed to be.
"Group 4, Cain and Kouis, you are up first. The winner can choose to hold the floor or concede to fight later. First two fighters to five wins advance to the regional tournament."
That's easy, you can keep fighting until you have your wins if nobody can stop you, instead of waiting about all day.
The dwarves are plenty drunk already, and even more excited to see Cain fight. They realized early last night that Cain was no ordinary wandering human champion, and that he didn't hold the biases that these locals did, so he became an honorary member of team non humans as they called it.
Looking around the tournament, Cain realized just what they meant. A lithe man with slightly pointy ears was being forcibly dragged from the ring and ejected from town. Too much Elven blood they announced, so he was disqualified.
They definitely wouldn't let Cain fight if they knew what he was, so he's planning to hold back as much as he can.
Kouis has already taken the ring, twin short swords in hand, when Cain walks up unarmed. The referee smirks and his opponent gets a cocky look for the entire half second between the bell starting the match and Cain back handing him unconscious.
"What did the hand say to the face?" one of the dwarves cheers, and the crowd begins to laugh.
The fighters in his group don't think it's nearly as funny though, giving Cain an evil glare as the medic checks to make sure the man isn't dead.
"Unconscious, but his neck is fine. He will wake up in a minute or two." The medic announces, moving the man to a stretcher and having staff take him to a shady area.
"I'll hold the ring until my five fights are won. Who is next?" Cain declares, and a slender man in black leather jumps up on stage.
The bell rings while he's still moving, and Cain simply catches his wrist and throws the man to the ground, gently kicking his ribs to encourage him to stay down. There is a crack, but not a horrible one, so Cain estimates that a single rib fractured.
The medic is called back again, sighing as he sees the man holding his side and Cain waiting patiently in the ring.
"Can you avoid making my job harder? Either break them all at once or not at all. I don't want to come back here in another minute." The medic complains, and the dwarves laugh.
"Aye, whoop them all at once. Give those wannabe Blessed the real what for." One of the dwarves cheers and the crowd begins shouting profanities at him.
"He's got a point. Just send the last three all at once. I didn't realize that I had ventured into an area so weak. Let me finish up here and I'll go back to looking for Ancient Relics."
"You're a Funny Man are you? Maybe you think you are the Progenitor King, collecting relics from the beginning of the world?" Someone in the crowd shouts at him.
"I reckon he's not a human at all, no Blessed fights like that. Call the Arch Cleric and check this Demon." Another voice screams, followed by thunderous applause.
"Matches are on hold until the cleric verifies your eligibility. If you aren't human, step aside now, before the guards are forced to deal with your Demonic presence." The referee announces.
The chances that they can actually tell Cain is an Ancient seem pretty slim, so Cain simply waits.
A few minutes later, a young Ginger haired Priestess jogs into the ring. "Did you need my healing? Where is the wounded?"
"No we need you to verify a contestant's eligibility. We suspect that man, Cain is not human."
The cleric looks Cain over for a second, casts a spell that covers him in warm holy light, then frowns and does the same thing again. This time her eyes go wide and she hits her knees in reverence.
"That man is no human. The body is completely human, but the spirit of a Seraphim and an Ancient Dragon live inside."
That sends a wave of shocked whispers through the crowd, and even the other competitors fall to their knees.
"A Blessed Holy Warrior? No, that can't be. He must be a hybrid. No member of the Heavenly Host would dress so shabbily." A gaudily dressed woman in the crowd screams.
"Send him out. He's a dragon blooded impostor, not a human. How dare the Dragons send their mutt here to cripple our greatest warriors?" The referee from the next arena shouts, and the guards come running.
