OCL_Round One

Helmer's brow furrowed. His sworn duty as a doctor was to save people, but allowing harm to come to people seemed just as bad. It didn't help that the screaming of "The Damned" incessently cried for him to help, to save, to jump inside the boiling-lava lake Golemn and pull them out one-by-one. The tornadus of water that Finley managed to summon swung a huge wrecking-ball of aquamarine juice. It sizzled as steam rose up. It seemed that there was no way to attack the magma-monster, nor defend or out-wait the lifespan of such a beast. The many pained shouts that came from inside the devilishly smiling Golemn drew a bit of a sadistic smile to Ghost-eye's face while Helmer grimaced. Finley put two hands up and held them in an open palm upwards, the sybol of surrender. Both of them could hear the words ring out from the announcer.
"Ghost Eye has won this round"
The Crocodillian strode across the chisled stone. Setting a hand on Helmer's shoulder. Helmer couldn't feel any ill-will towards him... which seemed odd, but perhaps this was a way for the chieftan to... "claim his next victim". Helmer could swear he felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead as he saw down the thirty-ish teeth of the Scaled Crocodillian.
"You are too soft. Grow. Become Strong. We will meet again, I will make sure of it."
Ghost-eye's sharp teeth beared as his lips curled upwards and he tilted his head to the side, looking Helmer in the eye.
"Seeing you up close, you are strong, even if you do not think so. Even if you try to deny it from yourself. Do not waste this talent. Someone as powerful as you should not bow your head to the weak."
Ghost-eye removed his hand from his ex-adversary and walked down the steps that Helmer had taken to get up to the main stage of the tournament. The Golemn on the stage appeared to follow Ghost-eye, flopping over itself, goopy molten rock spilling in various spots, then rejoining the main body as it half-slithered and half-sauntered. Ghost-eye's Maw was open, agape. Finley had a clear view of the... thing getting swallowed into Ghost-eye's body, but leaving no visible trace of it's awful aura. The Extra Lichen that grew onto the melty-beast was already browning on the ground, matching the blood-stained dirt. Ghost-eye exited the Arena, heading back to his room, where he sat down and began meditating to reiterate all the possibilities of the fight, if any.  He'd hoped that his words would stir the lion in the boy's heart, bring the kindling of power into a roaring flame, one that could be tempered and bolsted into an ally in this strange world. After all, this was a p[ace for the strongest. If Ghost-eye could convince even a single person here to join him on rebuilding his home, or help him return to his home, that would increase the probability of success by... 100%.