054 – Fight

***

The swordsman in white strolled to the middle of the road. He casually looked us over as the disciples drew their own blades. I set aside my staff and took out my own dress sword with its blade of spiritual steel.

“The four of you are so young. Practically sparks. I’ll bet you’ve never been in a real battle before,” he said with a smirk. The swordsman accurately guessed our inexperience but didn’t rush in to attack. We had him out numbered four to one.

“Yurk, take my side. Juniors, keep behind us,” Zambulon commanded. We fell into position. Hwilla stood just behind Yurk, and I backed up Zambulon. Hwilla and I didn’t have the power or techniques for this fight, so we were relegated to being assistants.

The swordsman eyed me curiously. The other three disciples had fires wildly flickering with anticipation, but mine burned steady as a candle. My unusual spiritual condition made the man assume I led the group. But that was not so. My taking a supporting role surprised him.

Zambulon and Yurk launched the initial assault, making minor, probing strikes at their opponent. The mercenary swordsmen deflected their blades and ignored their feints. He made some half hearted passes of his own, which the senior disciples easily avoided. The entire group shifted back and forth, but we remained in our loose formation.

At this point, the swordsman tried to gauge us as opponents. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes in a four on one battle.

“Four young whelps out to make names for themselves. Well you won’t earn any accolades fighting me. No one has ever heard of Logrev the Common Swordsman. Just, as I imagine, no one has ever heard of you four beginners. It’s a shame. Your deaths won’t get me any respect either. No one will write stories or songs about this fight, although I might use it to impress some of the dancing girls later this week.”

Logrev the swordsmen—he had no title—attacked us. For a man with zero reputation, he moved with shocking speed and power. He pushed Yurk back with a flurry of rapid strikes and then quickly switched targets before Zambulon could attack from the flank. Both the senior disciples tried to counter together, but he successfully fended them off. Their swords rang like bells, and sparks flew in the air when they made contact.

I had witnessed a previous duel, between Malisent and Sleazeanor the Peerless Rake, a few days after enkindling my own flame. My eyes could not keep up with their fight. It looked to me like a film played back at triple the normal rate. Their limbs blurred and only Sleazeanor’s sword leaving trails of pale light in the air gave me any clue as to what happened. That battle was too far above my level to perceive or understand.

Now I witnessed a duel using newly augmented senses, and one at a lower level of skill. I tried my hardest to follow the movements of all those involved. My role was to look to provide just enough of a threat from the side that the enemy swordsman couldn’t risk an all out attack against the primary combatants. That or to take advantage of any openings in his defense to get in a flanking attack. Only teamwork could win us this fight.

“Why is a swordsman like you wasting his time getting drunk in a brothel?” Zambulon asked.

“It’s not a waste of time. Pleasure is the goal of life. Why not skip all the fighting and hard work and go straight for the prize?” Logrev asked. “Laziness is a virtue. Trying to get famous is the real crime in my opinion.”

The battle picked up tempo. The fighters made more dramatic attacks and heated their inner fires. I saw an opening and darted forward, only to have the lazy swordsman send me back with a furious blow that vibrated down the blade into my arm. He was extending fire into his sword to increase its power.

“Why not join one of the noble houses? They’ll accept even second rate swordsmen into their minor branches. You could be married to a rich baroness,” Zambulon said.

“Ha. You think marrying into an established dynasty means a life of leisure? Not a bit. Once those ghouls have you in the pedigree, they’ll load you up with all sorts of responsibilities. It’s worse than joining an army.”

Hwilla circled around half behind Logrev and jumped in to attack. He didn’t take his eyes off the two senior disciples but delivered a mighty kick to her stomach that sent her flying backwards. She rolled over the gravel and somersaulted back onto her feet. It was nearly impossible to for a mage to sneak up on a mage. Logrev felt Hwilla’s fire even when his eyes looked elsewhere.

“I think there must be something wrong you,” Zambulon ventured. “You’re too much of a loser to do anything but drink and whore. Noble houses wouldn’t accept you. And you don’t bother spreading your name, because it’s already been tarnished by some misdeed…”

“We’ll see who’s disgraced, boy,” Logrev said. With a powerful strike, he sent Zambulon’s sword flying from his hands. He would have spitted him right there, but Yurk and I instantly moved in for the rescue. Zambulon recovered his sword, which now had a notch halfway up the blade.

Zambulon’s taunts had awoken the man’s anger. Now the fight started in earnest. No one held back.

We made a coordinated series of attacks on Logrev, using our superior numbers to hit him from every side. His long blade swirled deftly around him, repelling our assault. Yet, despite his defense, he never seemed to be on the defensive. He replied with plenty of strikes of his own. We rushed him five times, but could not break through. On the sixth assault, he scored a hit on Zambulon, a shallow cut across his chest that caused blood to flow.

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“Gah! Damn it.”

“That’s first blood for me. You whelps have no chance against me,” he gloated.

“Strythe! Any crazy ideas?” Zambulon asked.

Logrev was a decently skilled swordsman, but his superior power made him really imposing. He enhanced his strength and speed by burning mana, and he may have held more techniques in reserve. Yet despite his loose character, he had a strangely rigid fighting style. After every short bout between us, he took a stance like clockwork. Each time he stood in exactly the same position, down to the centimeter, with his sword, arms, and feet in place like a statue. Compared to him, the four of us fought with incredibly free fighting styles. Logrev must have undergone some highly formal education, much different than our training in the Void Cult. He had drilled in certain forms over and over, although that didn’t fit his lazy and carefree personality at all.

“He’s good with gambits but weak with the end game. Keep up a constant pressure and don’t let him reset.”

“Agreed,” Zambulon said. He and Yurk sprang forward. Hwilla and I moved from behind the seniors to the sides of our opponent, forming a semi-circle around him.

Yurk and Zambulon had both studied under Putrizio, the true master of laziness, and developed very idiosyncratic styles. Zambulon had trained constantly over the last three years since enkindling his flame, and that restless determination now showed in a real battle. His moves were focused, forceful, and precise. He never flinched when attacked or backed down. As such, his fighting style allowed him to put on a steady offense against Logrev. Even when injured or countered, he returned to the fray without hesitating.

Yurk, on the other hand, enjoyed fighting more than anything. He had endless fun with it, which showed in his style. He used lots of creative—almost clownish—maneuvers. Because Yurk specialized in mixing unarmed attacks with his swordcraft, he took Logrev by surprise with punches and elbow strikes. The formally trained swordsman had never experienced anything quite like Yurk’s goofball type of combat.

The two senior disciples had almost polar opposite styles, yet they had trained against each other for countless hours. They knew all each other’s tricks. Now that they fought side by side, that experience translated into an effective unity. Together they started to push back the enemy swordsman.

Yurk locked blades with Logrev and yelled “Piston!” He used his magic technique to give a powerful shove with augmented muscles and enhanced strength. Effectively, he launched the man like the bolt from a crossbow. Logrev flew back several meters and landed hard on his back, while Yurk skidded across the road from the counter force.

The four of us rushed after him to press our advantage, but Logrev jumped to his feet and waved his hand at us, sending up a spray of gravel and grit to distract us. He used a telekinetic extension technique, similar to the one Putrizio had demonstrated by grabbing his sword at a distance.

“I was wondering when you dogs would show your teeth,” Logrev said.

“Grrrr.” Yurk growled like a dog and gave a silly grin.

“Come. Try to bite me then.”

Yurk and Zambulon went in for another assault. As before, Logrev was excellent in the first few moves from his ready stance. He had practiced those maneuvers countless times. But his movements became uncertain the further he ventured into the unknown, the infinite permutations of a swordfight. Logrev lacked our knack for chaos and quick thinking.

It became clear that the senior disciples possessed a far better swordcraft. They out performed their enemy and, as the battle raged on, learned all his strengths and limitations. Zambulon was excellent by any measure, but Yurk showed himself to be a phenomenal swordsman, better than all the rest of us by a wide margin. Not only was he born with an amazingly handsome face, he had a natural talent for athletics. As the fight progressed, Yurk landed more and more unarmed strikes on Logrev.

Zambulon scored a solid hit Logrev, faking a stab that went under his arm and then drawing upward into his armpit for an unexpected slash. Red blood flowed down his white robes.

“Second blood is mine. Revenge,” Zambulon said.

“A good hit, youngster, but to no avail.” Logrev clenched his left hand tightly. “Titan’s Flesh! Divine Healing!”

The blood soaking his robes released a puff of steam, and its red color turned to a greenish blue. Logrev used an enhancement technique to heal himself, perhaps one mixed with some augmentation as well judging by the strange biological effect. Augmentation specialists were notoriously hard to kill due to their abilities to heal damage quickly.

So far, Logrev hadn’t displayed a style strongly favoring any one method. He used augmentation, enhancement, and projection techniques in equal measure. It was possible that, like us, he was too inexperienced to have developed a specialization or balanced fighting style. Or it could be that he was one of those generalist types—a jack of all methods and master of none. Generalist swordsmen typically wandered the world as adventurers and mercenaries.

Healing techniques were impressive, and made killing a swordsman difficult, but they also burned mana. Logrev couldn’t do things like that forever. Self healing could prevent defeat, but it was not a winning strategy.

Yurk pummeled the man like one of the sand filled punching bags from the Hall of Discipline. His favorite trick was getting in under a person’s guard to deliver unarmed attacks, but this brought him dangerously close to his opponent’s blade. He danced around just at the edge of Logrev’s swirling blade.

“Cutthroat’s Slice!”

Logrev made a wide, horizontal slice, no different from the others he had failed to land on Yurk. But this time it connected with a clank of metal. Blood sprayed from Yurk’s neck. Our best fighter hopped back and clutched his throat. The cut was deep and severe, as gouts of blood flowed out. He looked more in shock in than in pain, completely confused as to what just occurred.

“Gotcha,” Logrev laughed. “No one ever sees that one coming.”

We fell back instinctively. Logrev was better fighting from a ready stance, so he didn’t mind giving us a brief pause.

“Hwilla! Grab Yurk and fall back to safety,” Zambulon ordered. Hwilla didn’t hesitate. She grabbed him under the arms and took off running towards the carriage. In a different situation, it would have been comical to see such a short girl carry a such a large man. “Strythe, take Yurk’s place.”

Our worst fighter, me, had to stand in for our best fighter. We had been dominating in this fight to this point, but now the balance shifted radically to the other side. I had to face an opponent far above my current level.

“It’s over for you young fools,” Logrev gloated. “You will never overcome my techniques!”