Chapter 19: Finishing the Finals.

They saw a black car zoom past them with a roar. Thomas blinked his eyes to be sure of what he had just seen and Fleur was shocked to see something like that.

Thomas was sure that what he had just seen was a dodge charger.

'Damn, I definitely need to find myself a sweet ride. A sweet Chevy fits the bill perfectly, I can even rev it up with charm and enchantments.'

"Was that a car?" Fleur asked.

"Yup, a sports car. Sitting on one makes you feel like riding a nimbus, but more comfortable." Thomas explained.

The pair walked back to the lodging and went their separate ways after bidding a good night to each other.

The next day, there was even more people who came to the arena, there was not a seat left and the media was having a wonderful morning with fires burning in their souls and quills.

The emcee was here at the scene and with a quick sonorous, he started the day.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the underage dueling tournament, the finals are finally upon us and a duel awaits us."

"On one side we have our English tyrant who is notorious for his unpredictability and seamless execution of spells brutalizing the opponent without mercy."

"Then, on the other hand we have the African Shaman who is known for his abstruse use of old spells and the immaculate use of elemental spell craft."

"This ladies and gentlemen are both fierce warriors who will be permitted a full contact duel as per the traditions of the IFD, it's going to be bloody and I know that you are waiting for it."

The contestants came in and the referee checked their wands.

"Look now, I know that there is a lot of pressure on you guys and there is a lot on the stake here, but don't let it get to your head. All you need to do is have a clean game and may the best emerge victorious."

"Now, show me the weapons that you carry, and there will be immediate disqualification if anything other than you show me here is used during the match. Poison is out of limits but paralyzing agents are permitted."

The Shaman showed his double-edged sword and an ornate knife he carried on him. The Shaman was a burly fellow and one would hardly believe that his age was less than 16. Nearly two meters tall and was buffed with muscles, his copper skin was basking in the glory of his proud tribal tattoos.

Thomas showed his braces and the katana he got from the goblins. Thomas was a head shorter than him with his frame that was just over 150 cm, fairly tall for his age but was starkly paling in comparison to the one standing in front of him.

The shaman came forward with his hand stretched out.

"My name id Micah, and I hope that we can fight our hearts out."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Micah, my name is Thomas. Let's fight our hearts out and may the better of us win." Thomas said taking his hand.

"Want to make a bet?" Micah asked.

"I'm interested, go on."

"Let's fight without wands, only swords and the use of wand less magic is allowed as long as it does not affect the opponent directly. You can use it on the surroundings, and yourself, conjuring and summoning are permitted. Use of direct magic against the conjured or summoned is permissible, but it should not harm the opponent directly. Interesting, don't you think?"

"I like it, but what do you think about stakes?" Thomas added.

"The loser gives the winner their blade, mine is the ceremonial blade I got when I came of age and from the looks, yours is a goblin made, self-enchanted right?" Micah smirked with a raised fist.

"You surely raised it to an all-in, I accept the terms, lets see whom the lady luck favors today." Thomas returned his fist-bump.

The referee who had heard it all was left shell-shocked. The odds were at an all-time high and the restrictions imposed were somewhat deviating from the objectives of the tournament.

He decided to inform the committee and the guardians that came with the contestants. It was an international tournament and could not be left to the whims of two boys who wanted an all-out brawl.

In the VIP box:

"Sir, we are here to inform that the contestants decided to play a bet and not use their wands in the duel and wish to brawl it out with their swords and wand less magic to directly affect the opponent. Use of summoning and conjuring is permitted. This was accepted by the IFD board of directors and will be brought into actions as soon as the representatives of the contestants agree to it.

"I am fine with it, I don't see that frail brat stand a chance against Micah." The old Shaman said throwing a ridiculing glance at Dumbledore.

"I am agreeable as well, but the rule of not killing and crippling shall be in play. I don't want a war with old shamans because their brat lost a limb or two." Albus returned the provocation inch for inch.

The emcee roared in excitement and the media was lamenting their lack of camera personnel to cover the match.

"I have an interesting piece of information to share with you lovely folks here. The contestants have decided to play on a little bet. No wands, only swords, are you excited, I am for sure. Let the finals begin."

Thomas took off his cloak and transfigured his robes into simple white shirt and black trousers, a few sizes larger than they were. Then, he changed his form into his adult version that perfectly fit the clothes he was wearing.

The sixteen-year-old Thomas stood there tying up his raven hair that now fell long, stopping a few inches over his waist. The sight of him tying his hair into a ponytail was a woman's wet dream, almost every woman there at the auditorium felt their hearts tremble and their legs squirm.

There was nothing to say, Thomas was the most beautiful man they had ever seen, his frame was tall, closing to the two-meter tall Micah. His frame was not as broad but was packed with streamlined muscles that were perfect, like they were chiseled by the gods themselves, something that popped right out of a Korean tyrant manga.

The thin shirt gave a perfect outline to his body, while the most were drooling over it, but the knowledgeable ones knew that his muscles were in perfect shape, he was a natural predator, his form was the perfect blend of power and flexibility.

"Woah, the tyrant never ceases to amaze, who could have guessed that this little Pandora's box had hidden such a secret. My word, ladies and gentleman, this is a real and living Metamorphagus we see in front of us."

"First there was the French Belle's transformation and now the adult version of the English Tyrant, who dares compete?"

"The coming match shall be immortalized in the annals of history as the battle of swords and roses!"

"With my little knowledge of the English literature, I am sure if Sir Lancelot were to live, he would have been humbled by the English Tyrant. A fair warning to the husbands out there, don't let your wives run away like the queen Guinevere in the legend."

"Let the match begin."

Thomas and Micah sprung into action, their swords collided and locked with each other, both were pushed back by a few feet. They were putting on a display of what a warrior can do with the boost of magic.

Each of their blows were making sound waves and sparks as their swords collided with each other. The fighters were slashing, evading and parrying in such seamless tandem that made their fight look like a waltz of black and white.

They were reinforcing their bodies with magic, making themselves capable of inhuman feats of speed and strength that they were displaying on the stage. Then the tandem was suddenly broken as they started using magic to transfigure the ground under their feet.

This increased to conjuring elements to cover their swords or conjure weapons to hurl at each other. It was a mayhem with conjured weapons missing their targets or getting destroyed while the two were exchanging blows for blows.

Seeing that the balance was not breaking, the two decided to use summoning. Drawing runes in the air with their hands and slamming it on the ground simultaneously.

Thomas summoned a metallic serpent silver in hue, a bit over 20 meters in length. Its hollow eyes were glowing in an acid green hue that could chill the hearts of the bravest of souls.

Micah summoned an armor golem donned in tribal armor, with a spear in hand.

"How did you even make this abomination?" Micah was flabbergasted at the sight of the serpent hissing coldly at him, it's chilling gaze locked on to him.

"I designed it modelled on my father's pet snake. She's a beauty I tell you, rather than that, why don't we do this the old-fashioned way. Nothing other than the four limbs, and magic to reinforce it. You up?" Thomas asked.

"Why not?" An excited Micah answered with a beaming smile.

The walked away and kept their weapons under their summons to guard them.

The came closer and stood in each other's reach.

"Oh, is this what we have been waiting for? The good old-fashioned brawl, two men ready to duke it out with their fists, to determine the stronger between them. The gloves are off gentlemen, raise your hands and voices to liven it up."