"Pa... Patrick Schneider is the winner! So stop hitting him!"
"Oh? Already?"
Patrick looked at the referee with a hint of disappointment. Then, licking his lips, he spoke.
"He hasn't surrendered yet, you know?"
Surrender?
The referee glanced at the being that was once a swordmage, a miserable object that should now be called a bloody mess.
'Surrender?
I'm not even sure if he's still alive.' The referee stated firmly.
"The match is over."
"Well, if you say so, I can't help it. Tsk... He wouldn't have died even if I hit him twenty-seven more times."
A very specific number emerged, spoken with absolute certainty. Truly, one could not make such a precise estimate without having mastered the art of beatings. Patrick spoke to Georg, who was twitching at his feet.
"Hey, you. Let's have a private chat later."
At that moment, the referee saw it. He saw Georg's body, which he thought had completely lost consciousness, tremble.
"My word, that just now...."
"How can it be so one-sided?"
"Unbelievable. His opponent was a swordmage who wielded three Soul Weapons."
"And didn't that man, Patrick, also use something like magic?"
"Then, is he a swordmage too? But he didn't have any Soul Weapons, did he?"
"Maybe he's a real swordmage."
"Oh... ooh...."