One Man Against An Army

"Excuse me?" Khalor asked, slightly confused.

Had he not made his point abundantly clear? Had Astaroth not just agreed to help him?

Why was he still refusing to concede this tournament?

"I said no." Astaroth reiterated.

"You just agreed to help me. Why aren't you accepting my demand?" Khalor asked.

"I will help you. But I will not give up on this tournament. You want first place? Defeat me. That shouldn't be that hard for you, right?" Astaroth said, pulling out his shortbow and aiming an arrow at Khalor's head.

*Tsk*

Khalor looked at Astaroth in disappointment. He had hoped the man would understand that fighting this pointless fight made no sense. Logic dictated that he should win so he could garner the attention he needed to enact his plan.

Yet, Astaroth didn't respond to that logic. Instead, he wanted to fight it out, make it a contest of strength again.