The arena was a wooden, rounded structure, with seats atop a platform along the circumference of the wooden palisade blocking the view from the outside. There were also some bear banners here and there, in no specific or obvious order. Some were hanging from poles, some were on the walls of the arena and there was even one on one of the main doors leading in.
On one of the seats sat Thomas chatting with a couple of the guards and, judging by appearances, some of his friends or councilmen. Though the arena was within the walls surrounding the city hall, the public appeared to be granted entry, as the available seats were slowly filled up by outsiders. There were people dressed like commoners, adventurers and even the odd guard. Several women were crowding the spots closer to Thomas, yelling encouragement to Eric.
The terms of the test were the same as yesterday. Should I win, I could ask something of Eric, in the presence of Thomas. Likely, Thomas would interfere if I asked something ridiculous like make Eric kill himself. Likewise, if Eric were to win, he would be allowed to ask something of me. If I didn’t comply with said request, Thomas would likely hound the guards on me, forcing me to comply or face punishment.
The test in itself would be a mock battle, using wooden swords. The winner would be the one who surrendered first, lost consciousness or exited the, now closed arena. One would automatically forfeit the test if one were to seriously injure the other combatant. There could also be additional punishments if Thomas deemed such a thing necessary. In the end, Thomas held all ruling power in this arena, making it difficult for me to win if he did not intend me to.
Luckily, the crowd that had gathered would likely make it hard on him if he was too obviously biased as a judge. Either way, I had decided to play it safe. Eric was finishing up his talk with his female fans and turned his attention to me. He was wearing what he had referred to as the clan’s garb; it was primarily made from bear pelts, the fur pointing outwards. The bear head on his left shoulder was considerably smaller now that I could see the two of them wearing the outfit. It might be symbolic in some way, although it was more likely to be his father’s way of teasing him.
Honestly, the outfit was a little silly, and made him look a lot dumber than he actually was. Not that I had any right to judge, my own outfit was eerily similar, only really missing the whole head ordeal. I was also less clean, and probably also smellier. Not that I could wash here, demonstrating magic might disqualify me or something in the eyes of these warriors. We had both received our wooden swords earlier, and at Thomas’ signal we took our stances.
Eric’s spirit was collected around him, like a layer. Mine was too, as this was a sign of focus. Though, usually only those who could perform magic would be able to use such focus. I doubted Eric was, but I couldn’t know for certain. I would have to pay close attention to any changes in the way his spirit acted. Neither of us was using the spirit as a layer of defense though, it was merely gathered like smoke on our bodies. Though, I was probably the only one of us with the ability to see this.
My stance was a defensive one. My blade was raised in front of me with two hands, in order to deflect and guide blows. Eric’s stance was the same as mine; however for him it actually made sense to be defensive. I was the taller of the two of us; therefore I would be the one with the longer reach. It made more sense that I would be the attacker, and his stance mirrored that. He was expecting an attack. And he got it. The moment we were close enough I stepped closer and performed a thrust aimed at his torso.
He took on the blow by deflecting it to the side while stepping back the other way. Once my blade was at the end of its thrust, he gave it a shove away from his body with his left hand and held his sword overhead, readying a sweep. I followed up my thrust with another step inward and a clenched fist intended for his face. Responding to this aggression, Eric saw the blow coming and took a swift step back, unleashing his sweep.
The sweep slashed through air at an absurd speed, preventing me from aggressively following up immediately with more steps forward. As he was performing his slash I noticed a ripple in his spirit. He might simply have lost his focus for a second, but taking into account the speed at which he moved the blade, he was likely enhancing his speed with life magic.
This meant he was holding back. If he could use life magic to enhance his speed, regenerate his wounds or keep up his stamina. Though, judging from the amount of spirit, he couldn’t last all too long if he relied on it excessively.
With distance again established, we both returned to our previous stances. Noble as the young brat was, he chose to stand still and await my blows. Since I now knew he could possibly use life magic to draw out the fight, I decided to turn up the pressure. Using life magic, I thrust my blade forward once again, though this time considerably faster. Eric reacted much the same as last time, so I stopped my thrust from completing once the two swords connected, and drew it back. I repeated the same thrust three more times, all while pressuring Eric backwards. Then I changed it up and raised my sword for an overhead strike. Eric reacted by going in for a thrust. Before his thrust connected with my torso, I struck down on his blade, forcing it to the ground and almost knocking it out of his hands.
Eric did not expect the strike to come down that fast, and retreated backwards quickly. He took a quick look behind him and realized that he was running out of room, fast. Because of this he began retreating backwards and to the side. I followed him with my sword poised for a thrust. Seeing this, he stopped his retreat and took on my thrust. This time, instead of allowing me to push him back after the parry, he advanced on me with a raised fist. Not letting this deter my advance, I too, took a step forwards and head-butted his nose. The impact shook him and he fell to the ground. I took advantage by swinging my sword at his position on the ground. Somehow predicting this, he used speed enhancing magic once again, pushing away from the wall with one foot and rolling towards the center of the arena. He rolled away from my swing and dodged that, but he was still on the ground, clutching his sword.
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On his knees, he looked up at me with some blood running from his nose. Not allowing him to regain footing, I turned and raised sword for a strike. In one motion, he stood up and prepared a parrying stance with his blade above his head. He left his abdomen unguarded, so before he was back on stable footing, I kicked him in the gut. This kick was empowered, and sent him back a few steps, struggling to regain his stance.
The crowds which had earlier been quite lively were now dead quiet. The especially the expressions of Eric’s fans were those of hopelessness, though somewhat overdone. However, in contrast to the rest of the crowd, Thomas had a slight smirk on his face as he was watching his son struggle to stand properly. Weirdly enough, his eyes conveyed a loving emotion normal fathers would be seen with if their sons finally learned to walk, fatherly love.
If not for the arena and the spectators, I’d imagine the scene looked like a grandfather playing his grandson with the father watching. Well, almost. There were some peculiarities to the scene, like blood and pained expressions.
Eric regained his stance, and looked at me with frustration and anger. From his spirit I could see that his focus was tightening. He raised his sword in a thrust and rushed at me with abnormal speed. Not looking to allow him to corner me, I matched his speed and met him halfway. I parried his thrust by slashing it to the side and following up with my own thrust. With a burst of speed, he span to the side of the thrust, while closing in with a second spin and finishing with a kick. I moved out the way of its trajectory, while I took hold of his leg. Raising my sword arm, I swung at the now awkwardly positioned Eric.
He let his other foot leave the ground and kicked at my hands, gravity allowing him to dodge my swing. His kick connected with my hand, and I dropped his leg. Taking my sword with both hands, I raised it above my head and swing with crushing speed. He took the blow on with his own sword, enhancing his strength to receive it with one hand on its blade. I repeated the strike again, before he did a backwards roll and stood up. He was visibly panting, and a strain was visible on his spirit. He was strained to keep going.
Therefore I rushed at him. Blade raised to thrust, I ran at him. He parried with a grunt, before he took the impact of my shoulder as I barreled into him. However, he did not fall, he merely stumbled backwards. I began slashing at his poor stance; he was visibly having a hard time against the weight of the strikes. In a frenzied move, I hit him repeatedly from one side until, each time striking faster than he could recover his stance. Then, when the blade was far enough away from his body, I stepped in after a slash while I removed my right hand from the sword handle. I then sent the hand in a fist and swinging fashion to Eric’s temple.
Again, he stumbled backwards, this time with a cut above his left brow. Blood was trickling down as he was squinting with his eye to see. At this point he was panting heavily, and his spirit was behaving erratically. He clearly had no control over his usage, and because of this would probably pass out from mental fatigue of the strain. I would have followed up my blow, but I decided against it in case Thomas would call it disgraceful or something along those lines. So, I played it safe and waited.
Despite his current situation, he looked at me with rage. Eric’s breath went from heavy panting, to a sharper but faster intake as began a charge. It was senseless, and without any coordination in his stance. His feet slightly dented the ground as his speed went beyond human. I raised my sword, but he didn’t seem intent to stop after clashing, so I tried to get out of the way. Taking steps back, I parried a flurry of frenzied blows, all directed at my head. It seemed as if Eric had lost his mind to his emotions. A slip up from my part could be bad, potentially fatal, as he wouldn’t stop until my skull was caved in.
Soon though, with all of his blows parried, he gradually reduced his speed to put more weight into his strikes. It did not seem like a plan; rather he was getting angrier by the second and wanted desperately to overpower me. Once he had totally stopped, and was completely focused on putting more strength into his hits, I dodged one of them. This threw him off, as he followed his strike through and became imbalanced. I now swept away his feet with a kick, landing him face first on the ground.
Completely out of strength, he seemed to stay there, creating a small pool of blood from his injuries to the face.
“It seems the winner is Alphonse!” Thomas suddenly exclaimed as he stood up from his seat. The men closest to him nodded and made some approving “hm” sounds, before they began chatting amongst themselves. The crowd began a murmur of low voiced whispers, and some Eric’s fans even cried. Though, their acting ability betrayed them, making them look like fools.
“So then, what will you ask of my son?” Thomas asked with a smile.