Who am I?
Nathan Cross…?
Well my name is Nathan Cross… But who am I really?
I am in a weapons tournament… Does that define me?
No, that can’t be all there is…
"Nathan focus!” A sharp slap stung Nathan’s cheek, the world still blurring heavily before his eyes. His master knelt at his feet, weathered, gnarled hands hardened by years of perfecting his craft sat on the tops of Nathan’s knees. The old man’s gaze staring determinedly up into Nathan’s mismatched eyes, one light blue, one dark brown; an abnormity he was born with.
“You can do it Nathan,” he urged, voice rough as he spoke. “This is the final. Yes, you took a heavy hit in that semi, but just hold it together for this one last fight”.
Nathan sat up, dazed, but regaining some composure. “Who am I against?” He blinked a couple of times, his eyes still felt hazy but the world was slowly coming into sharper focus. “Who won the other semi?”
“You’re against Leon Rowe, the new entry,” his master said quietly, returning to his feet.
“Leon?” Nathan sighed, letting his head drop into his hands with defeat. “Great. He has had a perfect run while I just about got knocked out by my previous opponent. There is no way I am winning this fight”.
”Doubt will cloud your focus Nathan!” his master reprimanded, “You’re the best fighter on this island.”
Rising slowly to his feet, Nathan walked towards the entrance, keeping close behind his master, “I haven’t seen his fighting style before. I’m not sure I can win this.”
His master snorted, “Then you have already lost.”
Without warning, the old man swung his staff at Nathan’s head. With quick reflexes Nathan blocked the incoming attack. The force of the wooden staff pushed up his sleeve, revealing a metal bracer strapped tightly around his wrist. With deft movements, Nathan drew his sword and moved swiftly, knocking the staff from his master’s hands. Within seconds he had him flat on the floor, the tip of his beautiful sword resting lightly on his masters Adams apple.
“Well done Nathan,” his master spoke calmly, not flinching as the cold metal rested against his skin. “You have already superseded me. You got me on the ground, defeated and you only drew one of your swords.”
Nathan scowled reaching down to lift his master from the cold ground.
A slow clap resounded throughout the locker room, “Impressive display as always Nate,” laughed a boy from the door way. It was Jake, Nathan’s best friend. “But if I may say the execution was a bit sloppy,” he joked from underneath his mop of spiky blonde hair. A purple bruise was growing under his left eye.
“Ouch. Who dealt you the shiner?” asked Nathan, sheathing his sword.
Jake grimaced, “Leon, he’s a nasty piece of work. Quick too. He seemed to be toying with me the whole time.”
Nathan let out another sigh, blowing his long dark hair to reveal his eyes, one dark brown and one pale blue, an anomaly he was born with, “I’m going to be slaughtered!” he groaned loudly. ”What is he? 25? I’m only 18 this is hardly fair. He shouldn’t even be part of the Rogue Island League.”
Jake shrugged, “Well he is, so you need to get over it. You’ll be fine, Nate. You’re the best fighter we have on the Island. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“Exactly what I was trying to tell you Nathan,” His master added, joining the conversation. “You are a great fighter. You can do this!” He offered him a bottle of water.
Nathan took the bottle and gulped some down before emptying the remaining contents over his head.
“In any case,” added Jake, “rumour has it the Sect is in the crowd. You have gotta perform if you want in!” he grinned.
Nathan rolled his eyes at the tall tale the contestants were told each year, “Small thrills for the newbies. The Sect doesn’t exist, it’s just to hype up the new ones and get them performing at their best.”
Jake sighed, “A guy can dream Nate. Imagine, being in an elite fighters club with exclusive entry. Traveling the world, not to mention the girls!” he grinned, causing Nathan to break into laughter. His Master however, scowled and shook his head, nudging Nathan from the room.
“Good luck, Nate!” Jake called before sinking to the floor, nursing his bruised face.
“Come Nathan, let’s go and find out what you are truly capable of,” his master said with a gleam in his eye, his stride carrying more energy than expected from someone of his age.
They walked down a small corridor and passed through the giant doors leading into the arena. The room was huge. It was different from the rooms that the preliminary matches were held in. Large steel walls surrounded a floor layered with dusty dirt. You could hear crowds cheering but Nathan ignored them, trying to find himself in the middle of all the chaos.
“Stick to what you know. Believe in yourself,” his master spoke gravely, “We will be watching from the box.”
“Master…” Nathan began quietly, “Have you ever seen anyone from The Sect? It is just a fable right?”
The old man straightened Nathans leather armour, his hands lingering for a moment, “There are many things this world has to offer that I have never seen, just remember that rumours usually have an ounce of truth to them,” he said before walking briskly out. The giant steel doors then closed with a clang and Nathan, for the first time in a long time, felt trapped.
He could see Leon standing across the room from him. His opponent was tall and skinny with had flame red hair. He wore a black leather tunic covering a white t-shirt, with loose black pants sitting on top of what looked like expensive sneakers. He is going to be quick, just as Jake said, Nathan realized grimly. Leon sneered at him, his beautiful sword had a red tinge, seemingly shining through the scabbard that housed it daintily at his side. His upper lip curling up as he eyed his opponent in disgust.
“I thought you weren’t going to show,” he jeered. “I mean, they should have called your last round a draw, stumbling around like you didn’t know which way was up. You gave me a good laugh anyway,” Leon mocked, a thick Australian accent filling his voice.
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Nathan said nothing. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, the musty smell of the arena filled his nostrils. The world fell away as he centered himself. Dimly recognising his name coming over the loud speaker, he waited until the bell before opening his eyes.
Leon was gone.
Nathans eyes darted about wildly, searching desperately for his opponent’s location. He suddenly felt a solid kick in his back, sending him sprawling to the floor. What the hell? I couldn’t even hear him move... How did he get there so quick? He thought.
“Don’t take your eyes off your opponent loser. I can’t believe you made it this far,” Leon taunted, drawing his glowing sword, spinning it expertly in his hands.
Nathan jumped back to his feet and regained his stance, drawing his sword silently. The crowd roared loudly, their deafening voices flooding the arena. Nathan’s name was chanted across the stadium. Leon, as good as he was, had not made many fans throughout the tournament.
He stared at Nathan critically, the two circling each other warily, “You know what?” murmured Leon, falling out of his stance, “This fight doesn’t even matter to me. I have already done what I came to do.”
“And what’s that?” Nathan asked, lunging forward and taking advantage of the opening.
Leon was too quick for the amateur attack. His sword sliced through the air to meet Nathan’s with a clang. “If you had any real talent they would have taken you already.” Leon said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Are you talking about the Sect?” Nathan was now confused. He danced away from Leon’s reaching sword, ducking and dodging, careful not to meet his sharp blade, “That’s just a fable…”
“A fable? You only think that, because you don’t stand a chance of being recognised by them,” Leon declared, moving forward with silence and speed. Nathan blocked his first couple of swings but then caught a punch to the stomach. It was harder then he thought and he fell to one knee to catch his breath.
Leon walked around him. “No, the Hunters would never pick you, you’re pathetic.”
Wait… Hunters? Nathan had never heard of the Sect being referred to as Hunters before. Still gasping, he swung his sword at Leon, who jumped backwards, out of his range.
“Minutes into a fight and you are already almost finished. So this is the best Rogue Island has to offer?” taunted Leon, “Not really even worth my time coming up here.”
Nathan deflected the incoming sword and landed a kick on the side of Leon’s ribs, sending him flying across the dusty floor.
Leon took in a deep breath, bouncing back to his feet, wiping a trail of dust from his face. “That’s a little better, I mean another flawless victory would have been embarrassing,” he scoffed, not even winded from the blow.
Leon rushed at Nathan once again, who deflected the attack with his steel bracer and swung his own sword back at Leon. Ducking, Leon grabbed Nathan’s ankle, forcing him to the ground. Nathan reacted quickly and rolled, narrowly missing the jab of steel aimed for his head. He lashed out with his legs, also sending Leon tumbling to the dirt. With his few preciously gained seconds, he scrambled to his feet and drew his second sword.
Leon scowled, clawing his way back to his feet, still unfazed. He beckoned Nathan with a twitch of his fingertips, “Come on kid, let’s see what you can do.”
Nathan charged, unleashing a fury of attacks, his sword a complex web of steel weaving through the air. Leon responded, effortlessly blocking the barrage of attacks, before faulting and allowing one piece of steel to meet flesh. His eyes bulging with rage, watching blood drip from his left bicep, covering his hand still tightly clutching the sword
“I think you made a mistake, boy,” Leon hissed, Nathan’s eyes widening with shock and disbelief as he watched Leon’s sword glow and roaring flames erupted from the earth, circling the two of them.
“You will die for that!” he muttered through gritted teeth, stalking closer to Nathan. The crowd quietened as a sense of awe settled over the arena.
“I will make it nice and slow I think,” Leon glared manically, flickering flames illuminating his eyes, giving them the illusion of burning red. Holding his sword tightly, Nathan prepared for what he was sure would be a fleeting fight and an excruciating death, when Leon suddenly stopped his advance for no apparent reason. A stunned expression crossed his face, followed by a strangled sound and a small cough. The flames shrunk, somehow being extinguished and Leon fell heavily to his knees. ”Run boy,” he hissed, before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and the rest of his body met the ground.
A cloaked figure stood behind Leon. Face shrouded by dark material. Nathan raised his sword to face the new threat but the great iron doors beside him opened. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his master run out. He turned back to the cloaked figure but found that he and Leon had vanished.
“Are you alright Nathan?” his master puffed, hands on his knees supporting his frame as he heaved in air.
“I am fine,” Nathan breathed, his eyes darted about searching for the cloaked figure.
“You were magnificent Nathan,” his Master wheezed. Nathan hurried to assist him out of the arena.
“But I didn’t win,” sighed Nathan, still nervously glancing around.
“You didn’t lose either,” His master reminded him.
Once out of the arena, Nathan and his master sat on a bench.
“Anyway none of that matters,” his master babbled.
Nathan stared at his mentor worriedly. His master was never the type to lose his composure.
“The Brotherhood, they want you!” he exploded, causing Nathan to rock back on his heels.
“You mean the Hunters?” Nathan said, watching his master warily.
The old man was beginning to scare him as his eyes narrowed, “Where did you hear about the Hunters?”
Nathan gave him a cautious look, “…Leon mentioned it…”
“Interesting…” his master said, looking thoughtful for a moment, slipping a small scroll out of his pocket and placed it in Nathan’s hand. “An old friend of mine, Cho Hyung would like to meet with you. If you wish to meet with him, then you will be at this address at the requested time,” his master spoke excitedly, “However, do not turn up unless you are willing to give your life to your swords. The Brotherhood doesn’t have time for anything less.”
Nathan stared at his master dumbfounded. The small scroll was held tightly in his hand. His master now calmly dismissed Nathan with a flick of his hand.
“Sleep on it. If you decide not to go, I will see you at training on Monday,” and with a small bow he left.
Nathan moved slowly towards the locker room to shower and change.
That evening Nathan returned home to his home where he shared rent with Jake.
“So you got one too?” Jake observed as Nathan threw himself down on a small couch. The small scroll still clutched in his hand. Nathan raised an eyebrow as Jake withdrew his own scroll, “I thought it was very melodramatic,” he yawned, throwing the scroll down on the table.
“Will you go?” Nathan asked quietly, the room silent as he waited for his friend’s response.
“Yeah, I think I will,” Jake admitted happily, grabbing the remote from the table, “It sounds really cool.”
Nathan was quiet as Jake surfed through the channels. “You’re really going to give your life to your sword?” Nathan asked quietly.
Jake erupted into laughter. “Oh come on Nathan. They can’t be serious, and even if they are, we have trained so much we might as well already have given our lives.”
Nathan wasn’t comforted.
“Look Nate,” Jake said seriously, “this is the chance we have been waiting for our whole lives. We might not have believed the Sect was real, but we had always dreamed being part of a club like that. Now we are being handed it on a silver platter and you suddenly have some doubts?”
Nathan thought for a second, “You mean the Brotherhood.”
“Sect, Brotherhood, whatever…” Jake replied excitedly. “Geez man! You’d think a man would be happy finally receiving his lifelong dream.”
“Something doesn’t make sense though. In my fight, where did all that fire come from? It was like Leon was controlling it,” Nathan’s eyes wandered, lost in thoughts.
Jake thought for a moment, “Probably just some special effect the tournament put on to make the final more dramatic.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You know what? I think I will go along with you tomorrow,” Nathan shrugged, “put the sports channel on,” He grabbed the remote out of Jakes hand. “You might get on the highlight reel this time,” he laughed.
Jake grinned. “I knew the real Nate was somewhere underneath all that seriousness,” he grinned.
The sports news about the tournament finally came on, mainly focusing on Nathan’s fight with Leon. They hushed the fire away as great special effects that really added intensity to the great final. Questions were asked about the ending when Leon was taken away, but after a weird interview with the organiser, it had been determined that Leon had been disqualified.
Scoffing, Nathan turned to his friend, “Something very odd happened at the tournament today,” he suggested out loud.
“Yeah, but if he was disqualified, then that means you won!” Jake cheered before changing the subject, “So we heading out to this thing tomorrow morning?”
Nathan’s eyes rose to meet Jakes and he nodded confidently, “Hell yeah!”