The caverns quaked ominously in the aftermath of the explosion. Who would've thought the explosion would be that powerful? Certainly not Chris, oh no, not at all. So as any healthy person aware that the current situation is not preferable at all, he ran. You can't blame him, can you? Didn't think so.

Darkness. Gregorovich blinked. Then blinked again, harder. No, still dark. Clearly, the explosion had taken out any nearby source of light. Bloody typical.
Even if he couldn't see him, the constant, rather loud (clearly because of echoes) tapping of shoes to rock signaled that the young man, who seemed to be his first opponent, was running away. Rather quickly considering the big coffin he was carrying. For whatever reason that might be... I mean, who'd carry a coffin in a tournament, of all things? It was ludicrous.
Now back to more relevant issues; that is to say, the astoundingly dark environment. It would be impossible to maneuver in this darkness, and the kid might have night goggles. Scratch that, he definitely had night goggles. The enemy always had night goggles in these situations.
Gregorovich didn't like the only course of action he could take, but take it he must. Steeling his nerves and focusing his mind on what he needed to get done (coming home), he reached his hands up.
And gouged out his own eyes.

Chris, by now quite far away, stopped for a breather. In the midst of a breathy gasp, everything seemed to shake as a roar of pain echoed through the tunnels, and he faintly picked up vague sounds of cracking rock above him. He could but presume that the origin of the noise was the massive man, clearly his opponent in this competition, though he couldn't figure out why. Could those bats even threaten him to begin with, not taking into consideration their recent obliteration? He wasn't sure, but he sure as hell wasn't in the mood to find out.
Well, he'd have to fight sooner or later, so he might as well prepare for it.
'I wish I had night goggles...'

Gregorovich could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body as he leapt at high speeds through the tunnels in a vaguely animalistic fashion. His entire body was exploding with energy as the biode coursed about in his bloodstream.
His multi-faceted insect eyes, immobile in their darkly emerald sockets, pierced the absolute darkness of the caverns with ease, seeing everywhere around him at once. As Gregorovich had quickly learned when learning to control the demonic substance, sacrifice often yielded great results. His face was still burning, and sticky blood was matting his beard where it had streamed down his cheeks, but the biode has sealed his wounds and gifted him these, honestly amazing, eyes.
Though the armor itself covered only his upper head, Gregorovich knew that the tattoos on his body were curling about, growing more intricate as his muscles grew strong as steel under the biodes influence. By now the power of his leaps was scattering masses of small debris, and heavy thumps were echoing through the caverns each time he landed.
He was getting closer.

Christoph frowned. Just great, the giant was jumping around like a suspiciously bear-like rabbit, heading towards him at a distressing speed. Those echoes didn't bode well either.
"Yeah, just wonderful." He mumbled to himself, straining his eyes to see in the dark. "These goddamn lanterns aren't helping much, either."
His opponent was here, he suddenly realized. Then, he fired.

Gregorovich barely managed to dodge the magnetically powered bullet fired at him. That, he knew, was the main disadvantage of his huge frame. He was like a giant target, a bullet magnet. Forchov, how he hated utilizers of fire-arms. Granted they were useful enough now and then, but using nothing but? Pathetic, a sign of weakness, he couldn't stand it. Oh, he could feel his anger rising now. Can't let that happen. The biode would devour any negative emotions as fuel, twisting their source beyond recognition. Not the most preferable outcome, da?
The young man seemed to be yelling at him. "- can't people just get hit like proper targets?! Hey, monstro, how about you, I don't know, yield?"
Gregorovich frowned. "Nevuhr. Eyh haahv zu git bahck zu meyh huuhme."
"Okay I have no idea what you just said, but I don't think it was good and that means I'll have to shoot you. No holding back."
What a rude person. Youngsters are supposed to respect their elders, da? This one certainly didn't. Oh, if he were his parent, he'd tea- BULLETS.

Chris grinned widely as the nozzle fire of his machine-guns lit the cavern. Oh, the big man in the unpleasantly-to-the-eyes tight-fitting body suit dodged again. 'Damn.'
"Just die already, would you?! I have to get my girlfriend back!"
Gregorovich's head popped up behind a huge iron-filled cart. "Uhnd eyh mohst retoohrn to mayh cumpaneyh and meyh sohn!" The big man yelled loudly, only to yelp and duck at the renewed spray of bullets.
Chris knew he was dead if that mass of testosterone- no doubt it had quite the manhood but this was not the time for those kinds of thought well actually it was never time for that and honestly it was a pretty disturbing thought so let's leave it at that- got close. The man would tear him apart. Seriously, those arms were as thick as his chest. Jesus Christ. Well, keep firing and there's not much he could do.
Christoph laughed. He had this one in the bag. He wouldn't run out of ammo anytime soon and sooner or later the cart would break, preferably sooner.

Gregorovich frowned. He really would've appreciated not having to use the Companion Cube 20 minutes into this 'tournament', but it seemed like he had no choice. Digging through the Carrier Bag, carefully pushing explosives aside, he grasped the large box and heaved it out. Putting it in his lap, he started pressing the corners in a seemingly random pattern, a lot of effort going into ignoring the incessantly loud gunfire. As he heard the wheezing click as the corners sank into the box, he rose quickly and, holding it under his left shoulder, ran towards Chris. The barrier had been manually shrunken and strengthened, so to bullets ricocheted off the semi-transparent barrier. Even as the young man yelped and started running, Gregorovich caught up in a few long strides, grabbing Chris's neck with a hand big enough to go all around it and a bit more.
Holding his grip firm, he mumbled "Schleehp fohr eyh vhile, da?" to the violently struggling victim.

Then he slammed him head-first into the floor.