While Lanor was being dragged out of the ring, Osric received his pay.
But surprisingly to the spectators, he didn't leave.
It wasn't common for fighters in the elite bracket to fight more than once a night.
"He's staying?"
"This guy is seriously insane."
"Yeah, his calm face could fool anyone."
"Maybe Lanor wasn't enough of a challenge for him?"
"That's true. He doesn't look tired."
"But Lanor was still an elite fighter?"
The crowd kept discussing amongst themselves.
The referee decided to approach Osric.
"Do you wish to choose a second opponent?"
"Yes."
"Alright then."
"Everyone listen up! Osric will now choose a second opponent."
"Once he does, don't forget to make a new bet!"
The crowd was starting to get excited again.
Osric looked at the remaining ten fighters.
Realistically, there were four possible opponents for him left right now, but his gaze kept turning towards the woman.
'I wonder how strong she is.'
She had a lean body with refined muscles that clearly came from hard training and experience in combat.
Since she was wearing a short sleeve, one could see her countless small scars across her arms.
The woman had a serious expression on her above average face. Her hair was dark, relatively short and in a small bun.
Her dark green eyes were focused on Osric.
'He keeps staring at me. Is it finally my turn to fight?'
Osric then discarded his curiosity and pointed at someone else.
'It's too risky. She is one of the only three here, that I haven't seen fight before.'
Meanwhile Alice frowned.
'Does he not want to fight me because I'm a woman?'
'I hate men like that.'
She completely misunderstood Osric's intentions.
While she was getting increasingly frustrated in her own thoughts, Osric's new opponent stepped into the ring.
The man who stepped forward moved with a relaxed confidence that immediately quieted some of the noise in the crowd.
He was slightly taller than Osric and broader through the shoulders, though not as heavily built as Lanor had been. His dark hair was tied loosely behind his head, and a short, uneven beard framed a mouth that carried a faint, amused smirk.
Several old bruises colored his ribs and upper arms.
"Ah… it's Karel."
"Good choice."
"Yeah, this one should be interesting."
Karel climbed into the ring without hurry, stretching his neck once before rolling his shoulders.
He looked at Osric with open curiosity.
"So you're the one who just dropped Lanor."
His voice was calm, almost friendly.
Osric didn't answer.
The referee stepped between them.
"Second match of the night," he shouted loudly enough for the crowd to hear. "Osric versus Karel!"
Immediately the room erupted again.
"New bets! New bets!"
"Ten copper on Karel!"
"Fifteen on the new guy!"
Coins began clinking across the betting tables as the house scribbled new odds onto the chalkboard.
Karel glanced briefly toward the crowd before returning his attention to Osric.
"You're either very confident," he said casually, "or very stupid."
Osric studied him carefully.
Karel stood lightly on his feet, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in small movements.
Unlike Lanor, his posture was balanced and controlled.
Experienced.
'More skilled,' Osric concluded.
But there were other things too.
The man's right shoulder sat slightly lower than the left.
And the way he occasionally flexed his hand suggested stiffness in the fingers.
Old injuries.
Nothing crippling—but enough.
Osric stepped forward slowly.
"I don't like waiting," he said simply.
Karel chuckled.
"Fair enough."
The referee looked between them.
"Ready?"
Neither man moved.
"Fight!"
The moment the word left the referee's mouth, Karel moved first.
But unlike Lanor's explosive charge, his approach was measured.
Two light steps forward.
A quick jab toward Osric's face.
Osric tilted his head just enough for the fist to pass by his cheek.
Before he could counter, Karel was already stepping away again.
The crowd reacted immediately.
"Fast."
"Yeah, he's testing him."
Karel circled lightly, eyes sharp.
Another quick jab came, this time aimed lower toward Osric's ribs.
Osric blocked it with his forearm.
The impact was solid—but not overwhelming.
Exactly what he had expected.
'Less power than Lanor.'
Karel withdrew again, never staying still.
"You're calm," Karel said while circling. "Most people get reckless after a big win."
Osric didn't respond.
He moved forward instead.
Karel's eyes narrowed slightly.
Osric threw a straight punch.
Karel slipped to the side smoothly, countering with a sharp strike toward Osric's liver.
Osric twisted his torso, the blow grazing his side instead of landing cleanly.
The two separated again.
The crowd leaned forward.
"Now this is a fight."
"Yeah, both of them know what they're doing."
Karel wiped his knuckles across his nose.
His smirk returned.
"You're tougher than you look."
Osric stepped forward again, forcing the distance closed.
Karel's smile faded slightly.
He threw another quick combination.
Left jab.
Right toward the temple.
Osric blocked the first and pushed through the second, his own fist shooting forward.
Karel barely managed to lean back.
The punch brushed his beard.
The difference in power was immediately clear.
Karel's eyes sharpened.
'That would have hurt.'
The two men circled again, the tension in the room rising.
This time, however, Osric didn't wait.
He stepped in harder.
Karel raised his guard—
But Osric suddenly shifted his weight and drove a heavy strike straight toward Karel's midsection.
The impact landed.
Karel's breath burst out of his lungs.
The crowd roared.
"Good hit!"
Karel staggered back two steps before recovering his stance.
His smirk was gone now.
He looked at Osric with renewed focus.
"…Alright," he muttered quietly.
"Now it's getting serious."
Across the ring, Alice watched the fight unfold with narrowed eyes.
The frustration from earlier had faded slightly.
Instead, she studied Osric carefully.
'He's not reckless.'
'He's calculating.'
Her gaze lingered on his movements.
'Maybe he didn't avoid me because I'm a woman.'
But the thought quickly hardened again.
'Or maybe he just thought I'd be too easy.'
Her eyes sharpened.
'We'll see.'