Three minutes later, the match was over.
Team Fat Fox had advanced.
The crowd was still wheezing with laughter as the losing team was dragged off muttering about rabid raccoons and culinary abuse.
The announcer cleared his throat, voice high and shaky from trying not to laugh. "A-And with that… Team Fat Fox advances to Round Two."
Someone in the audience yelled, "THEY JUST SCRATCHED THEIR WAY TO VICTORY!"
"IS THIS WHO'S SUPPOSED TO FIGHT EUROPE?!"
"ARE WE FLINGING PEOPLE AT FRANCE NOW?!"
And yet… they had won.
And not just once. No, somehow, through the pure power of chaos, misdirection, and Fatty's surprisingly accurate throwing arm, Team Fat Fox kept advancing.
Round Two: Team Fat Fox vs. Team Bone Cutter (Southern Martial Academy Duo)
The next team wore black and red armor, spiked shoulder plates, and carried double axes.
"We've studied your tactics," one of them sneered. "That yeeting nonsense won't work on us."
